Page 19 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Town

I was setting the brown bag on the floor of the passenger side of the truck when someone called my name. I looked over my shoulder and saw Wade jogging down the sidewalk toward me.

“Oh, hey,” I said awkwardly, realizing I’d never returned his phone call.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Wade said, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

I frowned. “In town? I had to run some errands.”

“The livestock auction in Three Forks is going on, isn’t it? I thought you’d go with your dad . . .”

“Oh, right,” I said. “He asked me to stay home and look after Muddy.”

Nodding, he looked at me. “Listen, no sweat about dinner, okay?”

“What are you doing right now?” I asked suddenly.

“I was going to the bar to count inventory.”

“You think you can put that on hold for a moment and get a cup of coffee with me?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Wade said.

“I know, but I want to. There are some things I want to—we’re old friends, okay? I don’t want you to think—just have coffee with me? Please?”

“You don’t have to beg,” Wade said with a grin. “I’ll have coffee with you.”

I closed the truck and locked it.

“You locked your truck,” Wade said.

“Yeah, so?” I frowned and looked at him.

“Nothing it’s just—well, it reminds me that you haven’t lived here in a long time.”

We fell silent as we walked shoulder to shoulder to Sweet Teeth. He opened the door to the bakery, and I walked inside first, greeted by Abby’s friendly smile and the scent of warm, buttery croissants.

Wade tried to pay, but I said, “My treat. You bought my drink the other night.”

“My family owns the bar,” he pointed out. “It hardly counts.”

I handed over my card and looked at Wade sternly.

“Fine,” he relented.

We took our orders to the corner table and sat down. My latte was too hot to sip, but I tore apart the croissant and popped a buttery bite into my mouth.

Wade watched me intently, his hand wrapped around his coffee cup.

“What’s New York like?” Wade asked suddenly.

“Loud.”

“Is that all?”

“Congested.”

“You sound like you hate it.”

I paused for a moment and then I shrugged. “I don’t know if hate is accurate. But it’s just so hard . Everything is a fight. And at the end of the day, you shouldn’t fight where you live.”

“So why did you stay so long? I mean, obviously you stayed because you got engaged, but before that. What made you stick it out?”

“Salem. And Wyn and Poet. My roommates and best friends,” I clarified.

“Ah.” He lifted his mug and took a sip. “So now that you’re no longer engaged . . . do you plan on going back?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The idea of living far away from my sister . . . I don’t know if I can handle it. And my friends . . . they might as well be my sisters.”

But what else was there for me?

I’d been asking myself the same question since the first night I came back home and slept in my childhood bed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch,” I said quietly.

“Hey, don’t be sorry. We broke up five years ago. You were living your life, moving forward. It’s not your fault I haven’t gotten over you.”

I reached across the table and took his hand. “You were a good boyfriend. A good friend. I shouldn’t have cut you out.”

“You didn’t cut me out,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Life took you in a different direction. What were you supposed to do? Call me every night? Promise me a future? It wasn’t realistic.”

He sighed and let go of my hand.

“Even if I don’t go back to New York, you and I?—”

“Oh, I get it.” He smiled slightly. “Heard you loud and clear.”

“You’re better off anyway,” I said with a winsome smile. “I’m a mess.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down like that?” He frowned. “Your ex must be a real piece of shit, because any man would be lucky to be with you. Mess and all.”

“You’re a good friend, Wade. One of the best.”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s always been my problem. Friend-zoned for life.”

“Have you tried dating apps?”

“I’d rather stick my head in a vise,” he drawled.

“Have you tried a mail-order bride?” I teased.

“It might come to that. There are no datable women in this town. They’ve all paired off or moved away. I’ve all but taken a vow of celibacy. Actually, the celibacy has been thrust upon me.”

“That’s no good. Tell you what. We’ll go to a bar one night and I’ll be your wingman. Nothing makes a woman want a man more than when she thinks he’s already paired up.”

“Name the time and the place. I’m in.”

“Knock on the door,” I muttered to myself. I raised my hand and then stopped. “Hadley, come on. This is ridiculous. He’s seen you naked. You can have dinner with him.”

Anxiety shot up my throat and I lowered my hand. I hastily took the steps down off the guest cabin porch and headed back in the direction of the main house.

“No, come on. You can do this. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

The sun was setting and the temperature was dropping. And I’d made the mistake of wearing a cute sundress with a denim jacket and cowboy boots.

I’d shaved my legs—past the thigh.

And now I was psyching myself out.

I started to pace toward the cabin.

I was muttering to myself like a crazy person while carrying a bag with wine and a dessert from Sweet Teeth.

The door to the cabin opened. Declan was barefoot, his hair was damp, and his shoulders looked miles wide in his black and blue flannel button down.

“You want to come in or should I give you a few more minutes to gather your courage?” he asked with a smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

I groaned.

“You’ve been out here five minutes,” he said. “You could’ve been well into your first glass of wine already.”

“Yeah . . .”

“Come inside, Hadley. I promise I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

I pointed at him. “That, right there, that’s why I’m nervous.”

He grinned and pushed away from the doorframe and then went inside, leaving me to contemplate if I wanted to follow him.

With a sigh, I tromped up the stairs and into the cabin. I closed the door behind me. My mouth instantly watered.

“Something smells incredible,” I said as I set the bag down so I could take off my boots.

“I kind of changed the menu on you,” he said from the kitchen. “This morning, I put a brisket in the slow cooker.”

“Oh, I love brisket.” I picked up the bag and padded into the kitchen to set it down on the counter. I pulled out a bottle of wine.

“We’re not just having brisket. We’re having my famous kitchen-sink nachos. I was in the middle of grating the cheese when you couldn’t decide if you wanted to come in.”

“Let’s forget that, okay?” I asked. “Wine opener?”

Instead of replying, he walked over to me and caged me in against the counter. “Hi.”

I looked at him and swallowed my nerves. “Hello.”

His hand sank into my hair to cradle the back of my head. “You had to wear a dress . . .”

I frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“All I’m going to be able to do during dinner is fantasize about your skirt hiked up around your hips, your hands gripping the counter while I fuck you from behind.”

My eyes widened and I sucked air into my lungs.

Declan leaned down and gently kissed my lips before releasing me and stepping back. He opened a drawer and pulled out the wine opener and held it up.

“Open the wine,” he suggested, kissing me quickly again before moving away.

I did as he said and popped the cork. “Glasses?”

“Let me get them.” He opened the dishwasher and pulled out two sparkling clean wine glasses and handed them to me.

“These are pretty,” I commented.

“Yeah? I thought you’d like them.”

I frowned. “Thought I’d like them?”

“Yeah.” He looked at me. “I didn’t have wine glasses in the cupboard, so I went to town and bought a set.”

“You went to town?” I asked.

“Hmm, yeah.”

“When? I was in town earlier today.”

“I know. You went to Sweet Teeth with Wade.”

I set the bottle of wine aside.

“You guys were looking a little cozy,” he said, his blue eyes steady on me. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Like, are you dating him too?”

I lifted a glass of wine and held it out to him.

He took it and then I took mine. I sipped it and nodded. “That’ll do.”

“Hadley,” he said quietly.

“Try the wine,” I suggested.

“ Hadley .”

I grinned. “Are you jealous?”

“No. Jealousy is stupid and destructive.”

“You sound jealous,” I remarked. “You really should try the wine.”

He took a sip. “Happy?”

“Delighted. And not just that you tried the wine.”

He opened the oven and slid the nachos into it before closing the door again. He set the timer and then grabbed my hand to lead me to the couch. “You’re completely evil.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

We sat down next to each other, and Declan pointed to my painted toenails. “I call bullshit. You’re totally evil.”

I wiggled my toes. “What? These? How is this evil?”

“Your toes are kind of adorable.”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“You’re a foot guy? Please tell me you’re not a foot guy.”

“You can be a pelt woman, but I can’t be a foot guy?” he asked with a raise of his brows.

“I knew you’d never let me live it down,” I muttered.

“I’m not a foot guy. I just think you have cute toes. We can move past this conversation if you want.”

“I want.”

“Back to the evil thing. You wore a sundress.”

“Yeah . . .”

“ Evil ,” he stated seductively. “And now you won’t answer a simple question. Are you also dating Wade?”

I sighed. “No, I’m not dating Wade.”

“Was that so hard to admit?”

“No.” I paused. “Is that all?”

“Is that all what?”

“Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You’re not going to ask me what we talked about?”

“I’m guessing if you want to tell me what you talked about, you’ll tell me. But I’m good just knowing you don’t have several of us in rotation.”

“Several of you— what? ”

“Hmm. Maybe I am a little jealous.” His gaze strayed to my mouth. “The idea that you’d kiss someone else . . . Yeah, I don’t like thinking about that.”

“I’m not kissing anyone else,” I said softly.

“Good.”

We stared at one another, and I felt the back of my neck flush.

The timer on the oven dinged.

“Dinner’s ready.” He got up and went to deal with the nachos. He pulled them out of the oven and set them on a trivet.

“Declan?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what I love?”

“What’s that?”

“Cold nachos.”

He’d been reaching for the spatula when I voiced my announcement. Declan set it down and looked at me.

“You like cold nachos?”

“Love them,” I replied with a smile. I set my glass of wine onto the coffee table and stood up. I then slowly removed my denim jacket and tossed it onto the couch. Then I went for the straps of my yellow and blue sundress.

“Leave it,” he commanded, voice gruff. He stalked toward me and scooped me up into his arms. “Best fucking date ever.”