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“Don’t tell me how I feel.”
I pressed my lips for a moment and then said, “You knew the deal, doll. I wasnevergoin’ to fall in love with you.”
I could appease my conscience by saying that she knew what the stakes were, but I knew she was expecting more, and I had been considering it, thinking that maybe Fiona would be a good choice for a life partner. She had been until I came back to Wildflower Canyon, and now Texas seemed impossibly far, and the life I thought I’d have with Fiona simply impossible.
Her expression hardened. “Fine. But just so you know, Duke? I don’t think this is about the ranch. I think it’s abouther.”
“If you’re quitting, send your resignation letter by email and cc HR on it.”
“I’m not quitting, and if you try to fire me, I’ll sue you for sexual harassment,” she yelled.
I smirked. “Fiona, I understand you’re upset, so I’llexcuse you mouthing off at me this one time.” I narrowed my eyes. “You threaten me again, I’ll destroy your career and forget suing me; you’ll have trouble paying for gas.”
I went down to the kitchen, leaving Fiona spluttering to let Itzel know that I was going to sleep in a guestroom and asked if she could move my things. She didn’t ask one damn question, just asked me if I was going to eat with Fiona in the dining room or the office.
“In the office, Itzel, andalone.Gracias.”
“De nada.”
After dinner and answering a few emails, I made my way upstairs. Itzel had put me in the room across from the master bedroom—Nash’s room.
I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the knob. I hadn’t stepped foot in here in over a decade. Since coming back, I’d avoided it completely. But I couldn’t avoid it forever, so, with quiet determination, I turned the handle and stepped inside.
The scent hit me first—cedar, leather, pine.Nash. Like time had settled in here and never left.
The room was spotless—Itzel had probably ensured that. The sheets were crisp, the furniture polished, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere. This made it feel more empty and poignant.
There was no sign of recent life. No warmth. No lingering presence. Except in my mind, because when I thought of Nash, I thought of him here—or in the paddocks.
I rubbed my hand over my jaw, scanning the space. Itwas just a bedroom—four walls, a bed, and a dresser—so why did it have such an emotional impact on me?
I sat on the edge of the bed and, for the first time in years, I let myself remember my father as more than just the man who had made my mother’s life hell.
“Damn it, Nash. I wish things had been different. I wish…I’d had more grace,” I whispered into the emptiness.
I opened the nightstand drawer without thinking, expecting to find a gun, some old receipts, maybe a bottle of whiskey.
Instead, I found a photograph. I pulled it out slowly.
Maria.
In this picture, she was young, younger than I remembered her. She stood by the corral with a horse at her side, and sunlight caught the softness of her face.
Nash must have taken this himself, I mused. I turned it over. My throat tightened as I read the words written in Nash’s slashing handwriting."Mi amor, siempre."My love, always.
Nash had loved her the way a man only loves once, I thought.
Like father, like son!And, yet I’d spent my whole damn life hating him for it.
I set the photo down carefully back to where Nash had left it.
Then I began going through everything.
His clothes were still in the closet. They smelled of him and triggered memories of days gone by when I had loved him unconditionally as a child, yearned for himwhen my mother took me away from Wildflower Canyon, and lived for the days he’d come to visit.
Mama didn’t want me to come here, and I finally put my foot down when I was nineteen and told her I was going to spend the summer with Nash. She’d grudgingly agreed, partly because she’d planned a summer trip to Greece with friends.
I paused at the thought. Had it always been like that? She wanted my attention when she was alone—but the minute she was with someone, she ignored me.