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“Don’t sell the horses. We’re still going to make a profit thanks to how well you’ve trained the riders and their rides.” Duke’s voice was gentle, laced with an affection that only baffled me further. “And when I’m back, we’ll talk.”
I wanted to. I really did. But what was left to say?
I couldn’t move past what had happened, and I doubted he could either—no matter how he was acting right now.
I understood the shift. Nash and Mama were gone. The past was…well, past. But sometimes, the past wasn’t just something you left behind. Sometimes, it was prologue, and I wasn’t about to rewrite my story by diving headfirst into a chapter I’d barely survived the first time.
No, thank you.I was moving forward.
He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. “Miss me, okay?’
No. Not okay!
I pulled my hand away. The man had lost his marbles. “Did you fall off a horse or something?”
He laughed. “Something,” he agreed and kissed my cheek this time. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”
He left after that, and I slumped against the wall.
What the fuck was that?
A few hours later, I was eating brisket and cornbread and drinking beer when I felt a familiar presence drop into the chair beside me.
The barbecue had been set up behind the main barns, where the rich scent of mesquite smoke drifted on the breeze. Long folding tables, covered in checkered cloths, were lined with trays of slow-cooked meat, buttered corn, and cast-iron pots of baked beans. A few metal tubs filled with ice and sweating beer bottles sat at the ends, already half-empty.
Near the pit, a couple of old ranch hands stood, turning slabs of brisket and racks of ribs over open flames, their faces flushed from the heat. Someone had rigged up a few strings of lights between the fence posts. In the distance, a cowboy had pulled out a guitar, so we had live music.
Laughter rose from one of the tables, loud and loose, the result of a long day and a few too manydrinks. This was how rodeo nights ended—plates full, boots kicked back, and the kind of exhaustion that felt good.
“Tell me it ain’t true, darlin’.”
“There are so many truths to tell Knox. Which truths are you lookin’ for?”
Knox Lawson was a legend in country music, with a voice like whiskey and gravel, a reputation for buying only the best damn horses, and the kind of charm that could talk the devil into a dance.
Knox shook his head, his long, silver-streaked hair falling around his face. “That you’re leaving Wildflower Canyon, and you haven’t called me yet.”
I set my beer bottle down. “Not sure where I’m at, Knox.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Bullshit.” He leaned and shook hands with Hunt, who was sitting next to me. “She bullshitting me, ain’t she, Hunt?”
Hunt let out a laugh. “She knows where she’s at. She’s going to help me start up my place.”
“Heard that Nash left you some prime land. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Knox.”
“You know I need someone like you, Elena. Someone who knows horses better than half the trainers I got on payroll,” Knox said, what he always did in his attempt to hire me away from Wilder Ranch.
I took a slow sip of my beer. “I don’t know if I want to work for you, Knox. You’re disorganized as all get out.”
Knox grinned. “Who said anything about workin’ forme? You’d be workin’ with me. And you can help me get organized.”
Knox had thirty thousand acres outside of Austin.
Hunt raised a brow. “That sounds like an official offer, Elena.”
Knox tipped his hat at me. “It’s the official ‘I’ll pay you whatever the hell you want’offer.”