Inside her chest, echoes of the euphoria she’d experienced at the time tried to flicker to life.
But it had been just a fantasy.
A chimera.
A castle built on quicksand, destined to crumble.
Why had he asked her to marry him?
The answer struck with painful clarity. Because it was a natural progression. The payoff for all the years invested. But their engagement had been more about giving in to everyone’s expectations—including hers—and less about Grey seeing a life with her. Lorelei sensed Grey hadn’t been all in, even if she’d fallen.
Hard.
Was it his problem that somewhere along the way she’d developed real feelings, while he’d kept her in the friend zone?
What an idiot I’ve been.
Her nose curled. With the pain killers working their magic, she became acutely aware of the bar stench rising from her clothes and hair. She slowly sat up before tugging Toni’s shirt off.
I should thank him.
There was no way she could face him today, though. Or anytime soon. And she didn’t want to know what happened in the back of his truck.
Grabbing her phone, she typed out a quick text.
Hey. Thanks for getting me home safely. I’ll see you around sometime.
Waaay down the track.
She switched off her phone and tossed it on the nightstand.
It was best to stay away from Agriolis altogether.
Ready When You Are
Antonio
Three Weeks Later
Anton tightened the last two bolts to fix the snorkel on the tractor, the final piece replaced after changing a broken fan belt. Giving it a jiggle, he made sure it was secure. With a nod to Papà, he took a step back as he wiped his hands on a rag. “Okay, turn her over.”
The engine roared to life, the smell of diesel cloying the air in the equipment shed. The corrugated iron structure housed their two tractors, along with the various attachments they used for maintaining their crops. Three walls were lined with hooks and shelves that were loaded with parts, containers, hoses, ropes, and all sorts of essential tools of the trade. Whatever they needed for maintenance, it was either in this shed, or its neighbor that held the four-wheelers. Two roller doors opened to a view of the paddock, which was behind the farmhouse. In the distance, the sheets on the line flapped in the breeze like a flag on a hill. Anton’s stomach rumbled; it would be time for breakfast soon.
“Bravo.” His papà clapped his hands before rubbing them together. “Let’s see the chef do that.” He turned off the engine and hopped down.
Anton shook his head. “Grey knows his way around an engine.”
“I wasn’t referring to your brother.”
“Uncle Matteo?”
Papà ground his teeth together before mumbling an Italian curse that Anton had only heard once before. When an eight-year-old Sophia had taken his truck for an ill-fated joyride. Thankfully, the only casualty had been the chicken coop.
Uncle Matteo hadn’t set foot on the family property for twenty-five years. Nonno had died without speaking to his eldest son again, and the rift between the brothers continued to this day.
“What happened for you to hate him so much? Why did Nonno cast him out?”
“Nothing.”
“You can’t keep—”
His papà sliced a hand through the air. “Basta! It’s nothing to do with you.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. It has affected my entire life. And now it’s impacting others.”
“Who?” Papà snapped.
“The Carters. Lory.” Anton hadn’t seen her since the bar.
Papà scoffed. “The moment you lose your heart to a woman, you are ruined. And you will hurt everyone around you, to have her for yourself. But perhaps it is too late for you?”
Anton scowled to cover the sick feeling rising in his gut. Had his secret been exposed? “What?”
“Non fare lo stupido. I see it all over your face.”
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Papà’s words echoed in his head. Anton reared back as he threw the greasy rag in a bucket. “You’re wrong.”
Papà laughed. “Am I?”
“Yes.” Anton clenched his jaw. It took a lot to get him riled up, but his father had found his weak spot.
“A father knows his son. One day you will understand.”
“Is that right? Then why were you so surprised when Grey told you he was leavin’?” Anton cocked a brow, half disbelieving that he was confronting the old man, and half revved for a fight.
His father bared his teeth, spitting out a string of curses. “Sei una tale merda. You dare to challenge me? I know what’s best for my children. He will be back.”
Is calling your child a shit what’s best, Papà?
“I thought he wasn’t welcome,” Anton spat.
His father’s mouth snapped shut, rage twisting his features into gnarled lines. “Pack up the trailer with the gear for the State Fair. Tomorrow, you’ll prepare the stalls for our arrival next week.”
Anton nodded.
“You will go in place of your brother. It’s Sophia’s last year showing the cattle. Don’t ruin it for her.”
“Sì.”
Papà climbed on the tractor, leaving Anton behind without another word. They’d probably ignore each other for a week.
Turning away, he hung his head. “Fuck.” He raised his arms, ready to dive his hands through his hair before remembering they were filthy. “Fuuuuuck.” The word roared from his mouth. His body was strung so tight he could’ve crushed rocks in his palms. Damn. He needed to let off steam. He’d been so busy with the last few newborn calves of the season that he’d barely slept in weeks. Three, to be exact. Not since he’d drifted off under the stars with Lory’s body curled against his.
Goddamn it.
“Toni?”
Oh, great. Now I’m hearing her voice. He released a groan of frustration as he scrubbed his greasy fingers over his cropped hair. Fuck it. It’ll wash out.
“Are you growlin’ at me?”
