Page 24

“We’ll be moving the herd down to the south pasture before the rain rolls in.” He scanned the gathered ranch hands. “Charlie, you take point. Seth, you and Colt run the fence line afterward—keep an eye on that break near the creek.”
There were a dozen of us, give or take, some still shrugging into their jackets, others rolling the stiffness from their shoulders after another too-short night. Most held steaming mugs, their hands curled around them to ward against the morning chill.
It was all very typical, except for Duke.
He stood a little apart from the group, quiet, observant. I was surprised to see that his jeans weren’t too new, his boots were worn enough to show miles, and the cowboy hat he wore sat just right. It suited him…all of it. The look, the silence, the way he didn’t bother speaking just to hear his own voice.
Hunt nodded toward him. “Duke’s riding with me today.”
No one questioned it.
I stepped forward, setting my coffee on the fence rail. “Alright, horses.” I already knew who’d be best suited for what, and they did as well. “Ben, you and Kyle finish working the colts. Take them to the round pen after lunch. Jace, I want you on Copper today—he needs someone who won’t let him pull his usual tricks. And Charlie, when you’re riding herd, make sure to keep an eye on Biscuit’s back left hoof. Something’s off.”
A chorus of ‘yes, ma’ams’ followed, along with a few smirks. I wasn’t much older than half these guys, but I’d been raised on this land. I knew what I was doing, and they knew better than to question me.
Hunt took a sip of his coffee and nodded at Duke. “Let’s move out.”
The sound of boots scuffing dirt, coffee mugs thunking onto fence posts, and saddles creaking filled the air as the group broke apart, heading to do the day’s work.
Hunt caught my eyes when he swung up into his saddle. I tilted my head and smiled, telling him I was okay. It was all good.
Though it wasn’t, especially when Duke walked up to me on his way to his horse. “I need to speak with you sometime today.”
My heart hammered, but I drank some coffee like I didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ll be at the stables.”
Duke didn’t respond. He walked up to his horse and mounted it, his movements smooth and practiced. He was a good rider, and he had always been.
Thatsummer, we’d gone riding together a lot, past the south ridge, where the land stretched wide and endless, untouched by fences or roads. He had been twenty, reckless and laughing, spurring his horse forward and daring me to keep up. And I had—because I always did.
We raced through the valley, dirt kicking up behind us, and the wind was sharp and wild against my skin. When we finally pulled up near the river, breathing hard, he turned to me, his eyes bright, and he grinned like the world had never hurt him.
"You’re fast, Elena."
"Faster than you,mi cielo," I had shot back smugly.
He smiled tenderly. I knew my endearment meant a lot to him—he was my everything.
"Guess I’ll have to catch you next time."
But there hadn’t been a next time. When he ran away from me after breaking my heart, I didn’t chase after him.
And now? There was nothing left between us but ugly history.
Duke’s horse shifted beneath him, bringing me back to the present. His jaw was tight, his hands steady on thereins as he watched me, making me wonder if his memories were as vivid as mine.
It was early afternoon when he came to the stables. I’d been waiting—I couldn’t help it. He was with another woman. He didn’t belong to me, and yet I ached to see him, craved even a glimpse of his face. Having him this close felt like a dream come true, even with his cutting words and the looks of disgust he tossed my way.
Duke Wilder was back in Wildflower Canyon; my heart was whole again just seeing him. Did that make me the most pathetic woman in the world? Yes, it did. But I couldn’t change a damn thing. The heart wanted what it wanted, and mine had wanted Duke Wilder since I first met him.
It was like Mama had said when I’d asked her why she stayed with Nash even when he didn’t legitimize their relationship, made her suffer the barbs of society as his mistress, his whore, and, especially, when he’d checked out after her diagnosis, unable to stand seeing her wither away.
“Elena, your heart chooses who you love, and your head has no say in it.”
Like mother, like daughter. She loved a man who didn’t love her enough. And I loved a man who hated me. I think my mother had the better end of that stick.
I ran a brush down Jasper’s flank, keeping my hands busy.
“Did you have a good ride?” I asked politely, not looking at him because I so desperately wanted to.