Page 23 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Ranch

“You feeling better?” Declan asked as he pushed the last piece of pizza toward me.

“Full, sedated and satiated,” I remarked. “No, you eat the last piece.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm.” He took the piece and got up. “Another beer?”

“Sure.”

He went into the kitchen and while his head was stuck in the refrigerator, I said, “I quit my restaurant job. Back in New York, I mean.”

Declan chewed his bite of pizza and after he swallowed he looked at me. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “That’s who called me.”

“Your ex-fiancé called you? I thought he was in Italy.”

“He is. He wasn’t the one who called. His cousin manages the restaurant I work at. Nico called to ask me what shifts I wanted when we all came back to work after the renovations. The idea of seeing them again after Gianni told his family that we broke up . . .” I shook my head. “So, I quit.”

He pulled out two beer bottles and shut the fridge. “I don’t blame you. Who the hell would want to see their ex’s family, let alone work for them.”

“They’re good people,” I murmured. “And I didn’t think . . . that when my relationship ended, I’d lose them too. That’s what really got to me, you know?”

He cracked open both bottles and returned to the couch, holding one out to me.

I took it. “Thanks.”

“So you haven’t talked to your ex? Since it ended?”

I paused and then shook my head. “No. I haven’t talked to him. Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s some unresolved stuff there.”

“No. It’s resolved,” I said with finality. “It’s over. It’s done. Dead and buried. Ain’t coming back.”

“What’s that saying? Thou doth protest too much?”

I raised my brows. “It’s not me protesting. I don’t want him to call. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“So, if he came back?—”

“He won’t.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What’s fascinating is that you didn’t even pause to think about it.”

“Nothing to think about.” I shrugged. “You have to look forward, not behind. And we didn’t work. It’s all hypothetical anyway because he’ll never come back and I wouldn’t want him to.”

He took a drink of his beer but didn’t reply.

“You look like you want to say something,” I remarked.

“I want to say a lot of things. But I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Probably,” I agreed.

“So I’m keeping my thoughts to myself.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Dangle the carrot. Now I have to know.”

“I don’t think you’re being honest,” he said.

My heart drummed with nerves. “About what?”

“About what you want,” he said.

“You think I’m lying about my ex? That I actually want him back?”

He paused and then shook his head. “No I think you’re telling the truth about that, but I think you’re not being truthful about being over it.”

“I said it’s over , not that I’m over it. And just when I think I might be over it, something wallops me in the face.”

“Like the call from his cousin and you quitting the restaurant, so you don’t have to face the family that’s not your family anymore.”

I swallowed and felt tears sting my eyes. “Ouch. What is it you want from me, Declan?” I asked softly.

“For you to be honest with yourself.”

“About what?” I was ready to tear my hair out. “That I enjoy being with you, but that I can’t handle anything serious right now? That I’m more devastated about my breakup than I want to be?”

“You’re still in love with him.” His jaw clenched. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not, but how do you expect me to get over a two-year relationship in a month?” I demanded.

“I don’t expect that. But Jesus, I thought I was okay with whatever you had to give me, but I’m not. I want more. I want more of you. I want more of us.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Because you actually like me?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I actually like you, and I don’t want to hurt you by being emotionally unavailable.

So I know I should stop having sex with you, but I don’t want to stop having sex with you because it’s really good sex and it blows out all the clouds in my brain where nothing makes sense and when you’re inside me suddenly the world is quiet and I feel like I’m not drowning. ”

My words came to a halt and the horror was immediate. I hastily clapped my hands over my mouth, as if that could somehow put all the words back inside me where they belonged.

Instead, they hung in the air between us.

“I have to go,” I blurted out.

“Why?”

“Because I just emotionally splattered all over you and I need a chance to?—”

His lips covered mine and his hand tore through my hair. I closed my eyes and pressed a palm to his chest. I sank into him for a moment before ripping myself away, before putting distance between us. I scrambled back and stood.

I placed my fingers to my swollen lips. “I can’t, Declan. I’m going back to New York.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” I said, even though I was hardly sure.

“You’re going back to New York after admitting you don’t like it and there’s nothing for you there.

” When I remained silent, he stood up and nodded.

“You don’t want to go back to New York. But you’re willing to run back there because there’s something for you here now.

And that scares the ever-loving shit out of you. ”

I didn’t reply, my head crammed too full of thoughts that were taking root and not letting go.

Without another word, I turned and left the cabin. I grabbed my boots and didn’t even bother putting them on. A grave mistake when I stepped on a rock that dug into the arch of my left foot.

The main house was dark and quiet, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to run into Muddy and explain to her why I was coming home at ten o’clock when she knew I had plans to spend the night with Declan.

I trod quietly up the stairs and into my bedroom and ensured my door closed without a sound.

And then I went to the closet, flipped on the light, and shut myself inside.

I stared at my cell phone for all of two seconds and then I called my sister.

“This better be an emergency,” she groused. “I was just about to fall asleep.”

I winced. I hadn’t even thought of the time difference. “I slept with Declan a few nights ago and now I’m afraid that I like him. Like, like him like him.”

She paused and then said, “I’m waking up Wyn and Poet. And then I’m calling you back.”

The line went dead, and my screen flashed before going dark. A few minutes later, it buzzed.

“Hello?”

“You’re on speaker, and we’ve congregated,” Salem said.

“Mildred is here, too,” Wyn added.

“So tell them what you told me,” Salem commanded.

I sighed. “I slept with Declan a few nights ago and I think I actually like him.”

Silence reigned.

“Of course you like him,” Wyn finally said. “I knew that would happen after you told me you slept with him.”

“Wait, you knew?” Salem asked. “When did she tell you?”

“The other day,” Wyn said. “She asked me not to say anything because she wanted to tell you herself.”

“Why does no one call me?” Poet demanded. “I feel left out.”

“The last time I called you, you were crying in a bathroom stall at work,” I reminded her.

“You were crying at work?” Wyn asked. “When?”

“I’ll tell you later. After we get off the phone with Hadley,” Poet said. “It’s not that good of a story.”

“It’s a good story,” I protested.

“Are we riding at dawn?” Wyn asked.

Poet laughed. “No. Now let’s get back to Hadley’s problem.”

“Yeah, is there a reason you’re sitting here talking to us instead of naked wrestling with the wrangler?” Wyn asked.

“Whoa, before you reply to that, I want the details. When did you hook up with Declan?” Salem demanded.

I quickly explained the night Mirabelle gave birth and what had happened between us, following it up with our plan for this evening that had gone to shit.

“So like, a few nights ago,” Poet said. “And now you’re already in a fight?”

“We’re not in a fight,” I denied.

“You were there and now you’re here, talking to us instead of being with him,” Wyn said. “Sounds like a fight to me.”

“So you like him,” Salem said. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is she doesn’t trust herself,” Poet said. “She thinks she can’t like someone so soon after her engagement ended. And she’s worried she’s going to get her heart broken again.”

“This is so charcuterie and wine talk,” Wyn said.

“We don’t have any charcuterie, but we have the rest of the wine,” Poet mentioned.

“I’ll get the bottle,” Salem offered. “Don’t say anything until I get back.”

“This is so exciting,” Poet said.

“Not a word,” Salem called out.

“I didn’t say anything important,” Poet replied.

“I’m back,” Salem said a few moments later.

“No glasses?” Wyn inquired.

“I figured we’d just pass the bottle around,” Salem said.

“Oh, that’s better,” Wyn agreed. “Gimme.”

My heart ached. The three of them were together, no doubt cuddled up on Wyn’s bed with a dog to pet and a bottle of wine to share.

And I’m here, in a place I love with a man I have no business having feelings for.

“Okay, let’s continue,” Salem said. “Mama’s gotta get to sleep, but this is monumental. I want to know what you guys talked about that had you leaving his cabin instead of staying the night.”

“She already said,” Poet replied. “He called her out about having feelings for him.”

“Before that,” Salem said. “What led up to that? Because I know something did.”

“That damn twin thing,” Wyn remarked.

“Yep,” Poet agreed.

“Nico called this afternoon,” I blurted out.

“Asking about what shifts I wanted when the restaurant reopened. It was awkward, and he said Gianni told the family we’d split up and I just kinda lost it.

Not on him. But like, I didn’t realize that whole part of my life is really over.

Done. Not just my engagement to Gianni, but my involvement with his family.

And the idea of going back to work for them and seeing his cousins, and letting them all speculate about why we broke up .

. . I told Nico that I quit. That I wouldn’t be coming back. ”

“Thank God,” Salem muttered. “We wondered when you were going realize that you couldn’t go back there.”

“Yeah, well, like I said I haven’t been thinking clearly.” I rubbed my forehead. “Nico offered to call around and get me a job at another restaurant. And I said no.”

“You said no?” Wyn asked. “Why?”

“Because she doesn’t think she’s coming back to New York,” Salem said softly. “Right, Hadley?”

“Not coming back?” Poet asked, her voice sounding confused, broken. “You have to come back. We can’t be the four of us without you.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re worried about having feelings for Declan,” Wyn realized.

“Am I allowed to talk?” I intervened. “Or do you guys want to keep having a conversation like I’m not here?”

“But that’s just it. You’re there, not here ,” Poet stated. “And it sucks. It sucks so bad.”

“I fully agree,” Salem said. “It sucks a big one.”

“I can’t live in New York for you guys,” I said. “As much as I love you all. I don’t even like New York; that’s not a shock. But I also can’t stay here because of a man I hardly know.”

“The Ridge is your home,” Wyn said. “Forget Declan for a second. If he wasn’t there, would that change the way you feel about coming back to New York?”

“No.”

“So why does Declan’s presence change it for you?” Wyn went on. “Unless . . . oh no.”

“What?” Poet asked.

“She more than likes him,” Wyn said. “Don’t you?”

When I didn’t reply, Salem asked, “Hadley, are you falling in love with Declan?”