Page 115 of Feels Like Home

“Just needed a couple of weeks to myself.”

“Yeah, I see that now,” she says. “I just didn’t understand your plan until I saw the posts.”

I turn around and see that my frown matches Noble’s.

“What posts?” he says.

“Oh, like you don’t know.” Nell clicks around on her phone, then holds it up. “You’re going viral.”

He takes the phone, and I lean in beside him to watch a clip of Noble from the junior rodeo, standing on the platform as Mrs. McManus sings his praises. It’s mixed in with shots of him talking to Cody, one arm on the kid’s shoulder, looking like a coach.

“Read the comments,” Nell says. “A few trolls, but you’re going to get that when hundreds of thousands of people see a post. A whole lot more from people talking about all the good you’ve been doing around this town. You’re building a playground? And the horseback riding lessons?” She blows out a breath.

I look at him. He shrugs. I’m thinking there might be some exaggerating going on, and knowing the Silverwood rumor mill, I’m not surprised.

“I get it. Paying for past mistakes? Giving people hope that you’ve grown up? Genius move, Noble. Genius.” Nell’s eyes flick over to me. “I’d say it’s maybe your influence, but I’m not so sure—” Back to Noble. “Seems you’ve been playing the long game. So clever. Even I didn’t see it coming.”

Noble sets the phone down and slides it back toward Nell.

“Your plan worked,” Nell says. “Got a call from the folks at Diamondback. They’re very happy with this turn. They’re finally ready to talk.”

Diamondback. The Western clothing brand?

My head starts to spin as I try to piece together what Nell’s saying. Was Noble doing all of this just to land a sponsor?

That goes against everything he said and, frankly, every way he’s acted since he’s been here.

There’s no way that’s true.

Right?

My heart starts to race and my brain kicks into high gear, thinking and overthinking, replaying every interaction. His being here, apologizing, making things right—that was just a way for him to fix his reputation? For a sponsor?

For money?

I’m about to remind myself how ludicrous that is when Nell starts talking again.

“When I told you to fix your reputation, I didn’t think you heard me,” she says. “But this—” she holds up her phone. “I’m impressed.” She looks at me. “And you—I mean, Noble, she’s perfect. She couldn’t be more girl-next-door.”

At that, my eyes go wide. Because what is she saying? I start to say something, though I have no idea what, when Noble says, in a firm tone, “That’s not what this is.”

I try to latch onto those words, but they slip right through my fingers.

Nell waves him off like we’re all in on the same joke when, in reality, I’m starting to feel like the butt of one.

Noble looks at me. “Hattie, would you give us a minute?”

At that, my heart sinks. He doesn’t want me to hear this conversation. I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest, trying to square what I know about Noble and what Nell is accusing him of. To anyone else, this might not seem like a big deal. He comes back into town, wins everyone over, plays the hero, gets himself on social media, goes viral, and before you know it, the World Champion bull rider is rodeo’s golden boy and sponsors want him to be the face of their brand.

To anyone else, that’s probably the way the game is played.

But to me, it feels like I’m the game that got played.

“Hattie?” he says, gently. “I need to talk to Nell.”

I shake back to my senses, my mind still spinning. “Right. Yes. Of course.” I start to go, but he grabs on to my hand, an earnest look in those brown eyes that always, always reel me in.

The part of my brain that’s telling me this is all ridiculous, that this can be cleared up with a simple conversation once this woman leaves, is getting drowned out by an onslaught of what-if’s.