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“I changed her mind,” Hunt supplied, his tone loaded with warnings. He knew Maverick well enough to know that the owner of Kincaid Farms had a mischievous streak, and if he saw that Duke was being an ass, he’d play with him.
Maverick knew about Duke and me, well, he had the highlights, which I’d spilled one drunken evening. He had met Duke a few times in Dallas, so they knew each other. The thing was that everyone knew everyone around ranch country, even if Duke hadn’t come to Wildflower Canyon for a decade. However, that fact did make him an outsider.
And, when you compared the two men, it was clear one was a city boy in a tailored suit, a man who didn’t belong on a working ranch, and the other had stepped straight out of the television showYellowstoneand got his hands dirty, expecting women to follow him home, which they often did.
Maverick tilted his head, his focus on me. “Wildflower?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a day, Mav.” My lips curled into a smile.
He chuckled. Duke snarled. Hunt sighed.
Maverick cupped my cheek as if he had a right to touch me. “You sure?”
He was trying to provoke Duke. Sure, we were friends—good ones. We hugged, we arm-wrestled, we rode together (each on our own horse). But we weren’t the kind of friends who held each other’s faces and looked soulfully at one another.
He clearly didn’t care that Duke was about to blow like a bull seeing red. He didn’t like Duke’s attitude, and this was his way of putting him in his place—by using me. He did whatever he wanted, never mind how I or anyone else felt. That came with being a spoiled rancher, born with a silver spoon that Maverick had turned into a gold one—snapping up ranches and farms big and small across Wildflower Canyon until theirs was one of the largest in the region.
“She’s sure,” Duke snapped, his demeanor as sharp as a spooked horse.
Maverick gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “She told me you kicked her out. Wanted her gone. What changed?”
Duke tucked his hands in his suit pockets and gave me an insulting and appraising look. “Hunt informed me that she has her uses.”
I gasped. Hunt groanedagainand mumbled, “What the fuck, are we in high school?”
Maverick turned fully to face Duke. “You want to be careful how you talk about my friends, Duke.”
“She’smyemployee,” Duke informed him. “But I can see you bristling, Mav; she aclosefriend of yours?”
Maverick was about to step toward Duke, steel flashing in his eyes, when Duke made it worse. He turned to me, his voice quiet—but not soft. When it came to me, soft was something he’d lost a long time ago.
“Hopping from one man to another, Elena? You really are your mother’s daughter, huh?”
Silence.
Even the wind seemed to die.
Hunt muttered a curse under his breath.
Maverick moved so fast I barely had time to react. His knuckles were white, his whole body coiled like a man ready to swing.
Without a word, I placed my hand against Maverick’s chest, stopping him cold. He was breathing hard, his body tight with anger, but I didn’t flinch. I was as steady as they came, just like I was with an agitated filly.
“Maverick.”
He stared at Duke with venom in his eyes.
“Maverick,” I repeated. Still calm. Still firm.
A long second passed. Then Maverick stepped back. Not because he wanted to but because I asked. He knew the lines he couldn’t cross with me. Punching Duke would be one of them.
Duke released a breath. “That’s what I thought.” He sounded sharpandsatisfied.
I turned my gaze to him, slow and measured, andfor the first time, Duke looked uncertain. I knew why. The woman he’d known—the one who had burned for him, begged him, cried for him—was gone.
These days, I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t fight. But I also didn’t let anyone get away with disrespect—anyone, it seemed, except Duke Wilder.
I was going to say something, but I needed a minute to find the right words—something sharp enough to cut but not so reckless that it gave Duke exactly what he wanted. Because as satisfying as it would be to tell him to mind his own damn business, it would be even more so not to give him the reaction he was looking for.