Page 7 of Danger

I tuck my hands into my back pockets. “I heard you might be looking for help around the ranch.”

Her smile softens. “You doin’ okay, sweetheart? Is the bakery okay?”

“Things are a little tight right now. We’ll pull through. Just… need to find ways to help bring in a bit more money.”

PJ reaches out and squeezes my arm. “You or your parents need anything at all, you let me know, you hear me? Anything.”

Before I can answer, Fisher pops up between us. “I need help.”

PJ arches a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“My stomach’s growlin’,” he says seriously. “Like… loud.”

She grabs a sandwich plate and sets it on the table. He slides into an open chair.

“Problem solved,” she says.

Then she turns back to me. “I was about to restock the guest house with fresh towels. If you wanna start there, I’ll put together a list for you. I’d love to have you help out around here in the mornings. Maybe help Fisher with morning feed.”

“That would be perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”

And that’s how I end up at the guest house ten minutes later, arms full of linens.

I’m still stacking towels on the shelf when my phone rings. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, may I speak with Winnie Hawthorne?”

“This is she.”

“Hi, Winnie. This is Melissa calling from the Weston Rodeo Committee. I’m calling about your request to host a booth for Hawthorne’s Bakery this weekend.”

My heart jumps so hard it actually knocks the breath out of me.

“Oh—yes,” I say quickly. “Thank you so much for calling. My parents and I really appreciate you reaching out. We are so excited about?—”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she cuts in. “Unfortunately, we don’t have enough space this weekend to accommodate your bakery.”

Her words are soft. Like she’s hoping I won’t feel how disappointing they are.

“Oh,” I say. “I—I understand. Is there anything we can do? We’re happy to bring a smaller setup, or?—”

“We’re fully booked,” she says, firm but polite. “We appreciate you reaching out. If a spot opens up in the future, we’ll be sure to give you a call.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for me to realize this is the part where I’m supposed to say thank you and sound grateful for nothing.

“Okay,” I manage. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course. Have a great afternoon, Ms. Hawthorne.” The line goes dead.

I check my phone like maybe it’ll ring again and she’ll say just kidding—we made room.

It doesn’t.

So, I just stare at the stack of towels in front of me. Things were supposed to be looking up. A rodeo weekend booth could’ve meant lines. Extra money for the bakery. Some of our bills caught up. Instead, it’s just another closed door.

Another reminder that being nice and hopeful doesn’t always get you a yes.