Rough Stock (Lost Creek Rodeo #3) - Heather B. Moore Page 0,4
house, waiting, was the day he knew he had to end things. His mom wasn’t around, and Amy had let herself in. She simply didn’t respect boundaries, and it didn’t help that she was also calling and texting at all hours of the day. Westin was a nice guy, but not that nice.
When he’d broken things off, she’d thrown a fit, of course, and threatened never to talk to him again. Which was fine with him.
So why was she calling now? After so much time?
He exhaled as he pulled over to the side of the road, then he answered the call.
“Amy?” he said into the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Westin,” her voice purred. “How are you?”
He closed his eyes. “Why are you calling?”
She exhaled, and he could see her pout in his mind. Not his favorite image.
“I’m in your neighborhood, sugar,” she said. “Thought we could meet up. You know, talk about old times.”
“I’m out of town.” He had to be direct, even blunt with her. Because he knew from experience that if he gave an inch, she’d take ten miles. “Even if I were in town, we wouldn’t be meeting. Our relationship has been over for months.”
“Just because we’re not dating, it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
Westin gritted his teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry, Amy. It does mean we aren’t friends. I thought we talked about this before. There’s no future anything—”
“You think you’re all that, don’t you, Westin Farr?” Amy cut in. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re one big poser. You’ll never—”
He hung up before she got too far into her rant. Not that he was surprised. It only confirmed his original decision. Then he blocked her number. Next, he called his mom. Told her about Amy’s call.
“Sorry she’s still bothering you,” his mom said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep everything locked up.”
This only brought a small amount of relief to him, so he called his sister, Cheryl.
“She’s nuts,” his sister said. “You might want to file a restraining order after all.”
Westin didn’t think things needed to go that far. “I’ll hold off on that. I just wanted you to know because mom’s alone.”
“I’ll see if she wants to come here for a few days, and I’ll start following Amy on social media again if you want,” Cheryl said. “Track what she’s doing for a bit.”
If there was one thing Amy lived and died by, it was Twitter. She narrated her entire life on that platform. In fact, she was probably throwing him under the bus right now. Ranting about their phone call.
“Okay, thanks,” Westin said. “Let me know if there’s anything I need to be aware of.”
“Will do. Love you, baby brother.”
“You’ll never stop calling me that, will you?”
Cheryl laughed. “You’ll always be my little brother, so no.”
Westin shook his head, but he was smiling.
When they hung up, he had a warm spot in the center of his chest. He knew he was lucky to have such a great relationship with his mom and sister. Not all of his buddies had that.
The next hour of driving was uneventful, thankfully, and by the time he neared the town of Lost Creek, he was good and hungry again. He slowed to turn off the highway and headed to the first gas station. His truck was nearly empty, and he should probably fill up now so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.
As he turned onto the exit, he was surprised to see a young woman walking alongside the road, her thumb out.
It wasn’t that hitchhikers were completely unusual, especially in more rural settings, but this woman looked as if she were fiery mad . . . if the way she was dragging a suitcase, with its one wheel, behind her was any indication.
Westin felt a bit sorry for her suitcase.
And the woman? She was a petite, curvy woman, hair black and streaming behind her with the help of the wind, and she wore a t-shirt that said Sharks, along with shorts that gave him a good view of her legs.
Eyes on the road, he told himself.
But his gaze strayed again.
He wasn’t in the habit of picking up hitchhikers. Besides, this woman looked like trouble. He didn’t need any more trouble in that department.
Also, she was walking the opposite direction that he was heading.
What if . . . what if some creep picked her up?
Westin grumbled at his intruding thoughts. She was an adult woman, and she was making her own choices. Right?