Page 21 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Twenty

The Ranch

It was still dark out and I was half asleep when Declan slid inside me from behind. I winced at the angle—I was sore—but I didn’t make a sound of protest. Instead, I lifted my legs and took him deeper.

He kissed my naked shoulder as he rocked into me, his hand snaking across my hip to rest between my legs. Declan played with me, his fingers slipping through my wetness.

I was warm and feverish, caught up in the magic of us. It wasn’t long until I shattered around him. He gently thrust into me, gripping my hip as he came. Declan stilled.

I sighed in delight.

He slid out of me.

“We made quite a mess,” Declan murmured. “You want to shower?”

I stretched and then hastily covered my mouth when I yawned. The idea of showering with Declan felt . . . intimate.

Too intimate.

“No.” I sat up. “I should get back to the main house.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be.” Declan climbed out of bed.

“What do you mean?”

“You got what you wanted and now you want to rush out in the morning. You’re making me feel cheap.” He looked over his shoulder and grinned cheekily, letting me know he had no hard feelings.

I brushed my hand down his back. “Can we do it again tonight?”

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Absolutely.”

My insides hummed at the prospect.

“Let me at least make you a cup of coffee for the road,” Declan said.

“Not necessary. The road is short.”

“Trying to sneak back into your house before your grandmother wakes up?”

“Not even. Besides, she knows what’s going on between us.”

“Does she?”

“Yeah, not officially, but she’s a smart cookie. She won’t tell my father—but she said she won’t outright lie to him either. Strange though, considering she knows my father’s personal business but is keeping his confidence.”

Declan fell silent. He scratched his bare chest and my eyes drifted toward the swath of inked skin.

“So tonight, yeah?”

I nodded. “But I’m cooking dinner this time.”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t a tit-for-tat situation. I’m happy to cook.”

“Okay.” My brow wrinkled. “But I’m still bringing dessert.”

He reached his hand out and gently cradled my breast and slid a thumb over my nipple, causing me to shiver.

“You are the dessert.”

His words were delicious and sent a thrill through me.

“I better get up and shower before I get distracted,” he murmured.

“Hmm. Probably.”

He sighed and reluctantly dropped his hand. “Tonight.”

“Tonight.”

“You mind if I . . .”

“Shower,” I urged. “I’ll see myself out.”

Declan got up and padded naked to the bathroom.

I glanced at the clock. It was just past five in the morning. My body was sore and tired. But I smiled the entire walk back to the main house.

The scent of frying bacon immediately hit me along with the strong brew of coffee.

My mouth watered as I entered the kitchen.

Muddy stood at the stove, wearing her faded blue and white striped apron, her gray hair tied back in a long braid.

“Morning,” Muddy said.

“Good morning,” I said, going to the coffee pot and filling a cup.

I was a grown woman and I refused to be embarrassed, waltzing into the house after spending the night with Declan.

“You’ve got razor burn on your neck.”

I groaned. “ Muddy .”

“What?”

“Can’t you at least pretend you don’t know what I was doing?”

“Kinda hard to do that, sugar.” She looked at me and grinned. “You look exhausted.”

My cheeks heated. “Some grandmothers don’t comment on their granddaughter’s private lives.”

“Some granddaughters at least pretend to sneak in after being out all night,” she pointed out.

I sighed. “We never could get anything past you.”

“Salem was pretty good. You, my dear, don’t have that gene.”

“What gene is that?”

“The rebel gene.”

“I can be a rebel,” I protested, my spine snapping straight.

“You’re twenty-three-years old. You make your own choices, and yet you’re still standing here trying to defend them. Salem plows ahead and when she gets into trouble, she asks for forgiveness. Never permission.”

“As you said, I’m twenty-three and I don’t have to ask permission.”

“True. How do you want your eggs this morning?”

“Poached, please.”

She nodded. “I just want you happy. You know that right?”

“I do.”

“And you look happy.”

I rolled my eyes. I looked well-fucked, but I wasn’t going to say that to my grandmother. There were some things you just didn’t say.

“Remember the night of the bonfire, you caught us trying to climb the tree outside my window to get into the house?”

“I remember.” She grinned at me. “Peppermint schnapps on your breath.”

I laughed. “You said if we were going to get caught drinking, then we at least needed to drink something we wouldn’t be embarrassed about in our later years when retelling the story. And the next night you made us drink straight bourbon. Does Dad know that story?”

“Doubt it. He was out of town when that happened. And I certainly never told him.”

“Neither did I. And I know Salem wouldn’t have squealed.” My smile dimmed.

“Have you told her yet?”

“About what?”

She gestured with her chin in the direction of the cabin.

“It was her idea,” I said with a rueful shake of my head. “Wyn, Poet and Salem all voted and told me I had to go for it.”

“Voted? You’re making life decisions based on a committee?”

“Just this life decision,” I said with a grin.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm. What’s that mean?”

“It means hmm.”

“You never keep your opinions to yourself. Why are you now?”

“I’m not keeping my opinions to myself. I’m mulling over what you told me. I guess I didn’t realize . . .”

“What?”

“They’re your tribe,” she said. “Your village. And it must be really hard being separated from them.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, nodding. “It is.”

I felt like I was on a raft in the ocean and a storm was throwing me about. Wave after wave crashed over me, and every time I managed to poke my head above water, another would engulf me once again.

My friends, my sister—they were the lighthouse on land.

Would all that change if I didn’t go back to New York?

Muddy scooped the poached eggs from the water and gently set them on the plate, along with several pieces of bacon.

“Eat,” she commanded.

I took the plate to the kitchen table and sat down. “It’s funny, you know? Salem and I moving into a strange apartment. Nothing but each other, a suitcase each, and a lot of gumption. I’d never have guessed Poet and Wyn would become our best friends.”

“You should invite them out for a visit,” Muddy said.

“I invited Wyn,” I admitted. “The family she nannies for went to Paris and took the French-speaking nanny. She has a week off.”

“Is she coming?”

“I don’t know. I kind of threw out the invitation willy-nilly.”

Though it would be wonderful to see one of my friends, I hated to admit that I was enjoying my private time with Declan. And if Wyn was here, I’d feel pulled in two different directions. It wouldn’t be fair to have her come out and then bail on her to spend time with a man I barely knew.

I ate my breakfast and then helped Muddy clean up.

“I already fed the chickens,” she said. “And collected the eggs. I’m headed into town. You need anything?”

“Town? This early in the morning?” I raised my brows. “You don’t have a town fella, do you?”

“Oh you.” She laughed. “No. I’m meeting Lucy for coffee before the store opens.”

“Tell her I said hello,” I said.

“I will.”

I sprayed off the counter to get rid of the grease splatter and began wiping it off.

She leaned over and patted my cheek. “Don’t think too hard about the future, Hadley. It has its way of working itself out.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m off. Call me if you need something.”

“Okay.”

Muddy walked to the foyer, grabbed her keys and jacket and was gone.

The house was quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher.

I went upstairs and headed immediately to my bedroom.

My cell phone was charging on my nightstand.

I had a missed text from Dad with some photos of livestock he was contemplating purchasing, and several messages in the group text.

It was just past nine on the East Coast which meant that Poet and Salem were at work already.

I called Wyn.

“Are you coming to visit or not?” I demanded.

“Good morning, how are you? I put vanilla in my coffee this morning and did Pilates.”

I sighed. “Good morning.”

“No, I’m not coming for a visit. Though I wish I was.”

My heart sank. “Why can’t you come? You have a week off.”

“Yeah, see, about that week off . . . the housekeeper called and said the Carringtons’ mini dachshund was having separation anxiety, so she asked me if I would take care of her. Mildred becomes destructive and has a habit of leaving fecal gifts in random places when she’s left alone.”

“Mildred is the housekeeper or the dog?”

“The dog. She’s a good girl, she just needs an emotional support human.”

“And where is the good girl right now?” I asked with a smile.

“Not snuggling me . . . in bed . . . under the covers . . .”

“Ah,” I said with a laugh. “I see.”

“Mildred and I are hanging for the week at our place. Poet and Salem are excited to have a part-time dog.”

“Dogs are good,” I said.

“Sorry I can’t visit.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you getting bored?”

“Bored? No. There’s plenty to do on the ranch to keep me occupied.”

“Plenty to do, huh? Like mucking out stalls? Feeding chickens?”

“And sleeping with Declan.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Wyn? Hello? You still there?”

“I’m here. I’m in complete and utter shock, but I’m here.”

“Why are you in shock?” I demanded. “You guys told me to go for it!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would actually do it,” she said.

“Well, why not?”

“Because you’re Hadley. And you’re very thoughtful about your decisions.”

“I was thoughtful about this.”

“Hm. No, you weren’t. Which is fantastic news, actually. You’re only impulsive after too much to drink and that rarely happens. Wait, so when did this start?”

“Couple of nights ago,” I admitted. “I helped him give birth. Wait, no. I helped him help Mirabelle—the mare—give birth. I went back to his cabin to shower. He made me a quesadilla and we drank bourbon and then we . . . ya know. And last night he cooked me dinner and I stayed over.”

“Oh my God!” she squealed.

I smiled even though she couldn’t see me. I was giddy talking to a best friend about a guy. The last time I’d been this excited, it was because of Gianni . . .

My good feelings slipped away at the memory of him.

“So, are you going to gush or let me speculate?”

I laughed. “I haven’t told Poet or Salem yet, so I’m thinking we need to have a charcuterie and video hang-out. Do me a favor and keep it between us for now, ya?”

“Will do. But let’s have that chat soon,” she said. “It won’t be the same as you being here, but we’ll make it work. If you can pull yourself away from the awesome get-over-your-ex sex.”

“I’ll find the time,” I assured her.

“So, it is awesome, right? At least tell me that much.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.”

She squealed again. “Oh, sorry, Mildred. I woke the beast and now she probably has to go outside. Later, gator.”

Wyn hung up and I set my phone aside. I stripped off my dress and underwear and threw them in the dirty clothes bin before padding into the bathroom.

As the shower steamed, I looked at myself in the mirror. My lips were swollen and even though my skin was wan from lack of sleep, there was a definite sparkle in my eye. And just maybe a jaunt in my step. A lifting of my spirits. A reason to smile.