Page 11 of Ace of Spades (Hidden Creek Ranch #1)

WESTON

I shoot Chance a quick text, asking him if he can bring Kota home and let Maverick out when he gets back to the ranch, letting him know that I’m heading to Mom’s for the night.

I felt bad ditching her at the dance, but after everything that happened earlier, I needed to get out and clear my head.

Besides, it wasn’t out of the way for him since she was staying with us at the ranch.

My truck roars through the winding roads that I know so well, curving through the trees on the dirt road leading back to Cedar Creek. My headlights shine on the trailer that I grew up in as I pull into the trailer park, the ‘ now under new ownership’ banner hanging across the open front gate.

I spot Mom on the makeshift porch that’s falling apart, lounging in her rocking chair under the porch light with Artemis—her orange cat—in her lap, as if she had been waiting for me this entire time.

I kill the ignition, climbing the few steps up to the front door, Artemis jumping out of her lap at my arrival.

“Hey, ma,” I tell her, bending down to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t know what it is—call it mother’s intuition, but I knew you’d be swinging by tonight. Come on in, honey, I’ve got some fresh sweet tea and I’ll order us some pizza.”

“Sounds great,” I say, forcing a smile. I still feel wound up from earlier, the half-hour drive having done nothing to slow my racing heart. Maybe that’s subconsciously why I had come here, because I knew that when I got in this state, there was nobody better to calm me down than my mom.

I follow her inside, her shoulder-length hair the same blonde shade as my sister’s.

Kota looked like a younger version of my mom, with the same blue eyes, tan skin, and golden hair.

I, on the other hand, had gotten most of my features from my dad, with my jet-black hair and fair skin.

The only thing that I shared with Kota and my mom was our above-average height.

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“Do I need a reason to stop by and see you?”

“No, but remember that mother’s intuition that I was just talking about? Call it a sixth sense, but I know my son. Something’s bothering you, honey. So you can mope for the next hour until I finally manage to get it out of you, or you can save us both some time and just talk to me. ”

I take a seat at the four-seater dinner table, the same one my sister and I had grown up eating at, as mom hands me a glass of tea.

I let out a long breath, running my hands over my face.

“Is it a girl?” Mom asks.

“No. I mean—I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Oh boy,” she says, taking the seat across from me. “Okay, so tell me more about this girl.”

I sigh, trying to figure out how to put everything into words when I don’t even know what’s going on in my own head.

The plan last night had gone to shit. I’d told the guys what Hailey had admitted during her birthday party.

I knew it wasn’t my place to share, but it had made it sound like she either didn’t know what was going on, or if she did, she didn’t like it.

It had made us reconsider everything, and we had all agreed to give her a chance and see if we could potentially even get closer to her, to get a better feeling of where she stood.

That was how we’d convinced Chance to take Ava to the dance, despite all of his objections.

I had to admit, I actually felt bad for the guy—she was proving to be becoming a stage-five clinger.

But I had been supposed to spend time with Hailey, since we assumed Ava would be bringing her along.

I had even thought about inviting her myself.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Bradley had already beaten me to it. And worse? That she’d actually agreed to go with the fucker.

Her boyfriend.

No—not her boyfriend, according to her. So why did it still feel like a dagger in my chest ?

“She’s…”

“Beautiful? Sweet? Amazing?” my mom tries.

“Infuriating.”

“Oh,” she says, leaning back in her seat. “Well I can’t say I expected that, but go on.”

“She’s… well she hates me, and I hate her.

Or at least, I thought I did. I should, but I don’t think I do anymore.

I mean, I do, but… I just thought things had changed between us.

I thought we had started getting through to each other, started seeing each other differently.

But I was wrong, and now I just feel… stupid. ”

Mom watches me without saying anything, giving me the time to get my thoughts together.

“I let myself start seeing her differently, even though I knew exactly the type of person she was. It’s like she showed me who she was this entire time, and I still refused to believe it.

I was naive, ma. But I think I so badly wanted it to be true, because those pieces of her that I thought I was seeing, when it was the real her, I really like those. ”

“Well, tell me about those moments,” Mom asks.

I think back to the last three months, her amber eyes and bright smile flashing through my mind. She never smiled like that when she thought people were looking–it was reserved for moments where she was caught off guard, a genuine smile that wasn’t meant for everyone’s eyes.

“At the Utah rodeo in March, when all of the bad snow storms were coming through and I was sleeping in my truck because Chance got hurt and stayed home, she invited me to come sleep in her trailer, even though she claimed to hate me at the time. Scratch that—she didn’t invite me to stay in her trailer, she didn’t even give me a choice.

And when I refused, she got in my truck and twisted my arm until I agreed. ”

“I think I like her already,” my mom laughs, bringing her tea to her lips.

“It’s almost like she wants people to think she’s tough and mean, as if she wears her attitude around like a suit of armor, but underneath all of that, she’s actually very sweet.

Her friend, Ava, told us about how they went dress shopping for the dance tonight, and they both saw the same dress at the same time and fell in love with it.

When Hailey didn’t think that Ava was looking, she found the dress in her size and hid it, before telling Ava that they were out of stock in her size and insisting that Ava buy it.

I know that doesn’t sound like much, but it’s little things like that that I notice, even when she doesn’t want people to. ”

“It’s little things like that that show a person’s character,” my mom says, a twinkle in her eye.

“And another thing I like about her is her drive, her ambition and work ethic. You should see her when she’s running, Mom.

When she’s in the saddle, flying through the arena, she looks like that’s where she belongs.

The look in her eyes, the fire and determination–it’s impossible to look away. It’s… mesmerizing.”

Mom gives me a soft smile, a knowing look on her face.

“You really like her, don’t you,” she asks, though it comes as more of a statement rather than a question.

“I don’t know anymore,” I admit, leaning back in my seat. “I don’t know what’s real with her anymore.”

She gives me a pitying look just as a knock sounds at the door .

“Must be the pizza,” she says. “Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

She excuses herself to answer the door, and I walk over to the fridge to help myself to more tea. As I’m filling the glass, I spot a pile of opened mail on the counter, the bold red lettering catching my attention.

I set the glass down, sifting through the unpaid bills.

“I got pepperoni, I hope that’s okay–” my mom stops in her tracks as she comes in the doorway, spotting what I was looking at.

“Honey—”

“What are these, mom? Did they find a way to raise the rent even more?” I ask.

She lets out a sigh, setting the pizza on the table and sitting back down in her seat.

“This is ridiculous,” I say, rifling through the papers. “With everything added together, the cost of living here has almost tripled from last year. That’s insane, they can’t do this,” I seethe.

“And yet, they are,” she responds, the sound of defeat lacing her tone.

“The Barlowes—you know, the ones that live next door? They’re two months behind, and Wendy just got laid off from the bakery.

It turns out that the fancy new grocery store that just opened has a bakery built into it, so the foot traffic at the downtown bakery has died down like crazy.

They just can’t compete with the prices that this new place is offering.

They just couldn’t afford to keep her anymore. ”

I toss the papers down, setting my hat on the counter and running a hand through my hair .

“I’ll do the best that I can to help. Can you please just consider moving to the ranch?

You wouldn’t have to pay rent or bills, and you would have everything taken care of.

There’s only so much I can do to help while you’re living here, the rodeo entry fees are getting steeper and the ranch is just breaking even until we get the guest ranch up and running.

It’s going to be a few years before I have the money to buy this place, and then you could move back here if you still wanted to. ”

“Honey,” Mom says, getting up and walking over to me. “I don’t want you to keep worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you. You and Kota both.”

“And who worries about you?”

I’m taken aback, not quite sure how to answer that.

“That’s right. Now for once in your life, stop worrying about taking care of everybody, and take care of yourself. You’ve already helped so much, let me handle the rest.”

I give her a nod, bringing her into a hug and resting my chin on her head and I let myself enjoy her warmth, feeling her love embrace me.

“Good. Now, eat and get some rest. You have fresh sheets waiting for you, and I’ll have pancakes ready in the morning.”

Mom held up on her promise, the smell of bacon and pancakes waking me up first thing in the morning. We make small talk over breakfast before I leave to head back to the ranch, my phone buzzing as I pull out of the trailer park .

RAFE: Hey man, I think you should probably head over here. There’s something you should see.

My brows furrow at his message.

ME: Where are you?

RAFE: Hailey’s.

Seeing her name makes my stomach do a weird sort of flip, my heart racing faster at the thought of her. Did something happen? Why was he over there? And what did he mean there was something I should see? So many thoughts raced through my brain, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

I hit the call button, bringing the phone to my ear. It rang twice before going to voicemail.

“Dammit, Rafe,” I mutter to myself, hitting the call button once more.

It didn’t even ring twice this time, ringing once before going to voicemail. I try two more times before throwing my phone on the dash, my foot pressing down on the accelerator as I fly down the road, leaving a cloud of dirt in my wake.