Page 3 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

“I owe you? How do you figure?” I asked with a laugh.

“Just send me a picture,” she pleaded.

“And how do you suppose I should go about it? Excuse me, Declan, can I get a photo of you to show my sister how hot you are? ”

“Ha! I knew you thought he was hot. Is he charming? Funny?”

I held in a sigh. “Yes.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re screwed. If you can, get a photo of him from the backside. I want to see him in a pair of jeans.”

“Bye, Salem.”

I hung up on my sister. I made the bed and folded the clothes Declan had lent me and put them at the foot of the mattress.

My coat was laying across the back of the couch and I put it on. I shoved my cell phone into my pocket and then made sure I had my cup coffee.

I opened the cabin door. Declan was wearing a brown leather jacket with a fleece collar and a worn brown felt cowboy hat. He turned when he heard me, lifting his coffee cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Sorry,” I blurted out. “My twin sister’s a gabber.”

“Twins, huh?” He grinned.

“She’s crazier than I am.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Hey,” I said with a laugh. “Be nice.”

“Ready?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.” I reached for my suitcase so I could carry it down the steps, but Declan beat me to it.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“Thanks.”

We walked in companionable silence toward the main house. I kept scanning the clearing, but everything was quiet. No sign of the bear.

The early morning sun bathed the mountains and crisp spring air caressed my cheeks. I breathed a sigh of relief at being home.

We passed empty cattle pens, but the smell of churned earth and manure seeped into my nose.

I stepped up onto the porch of the main house and turned the knob of the front door.

The aroma of bacon and the crackling of grease in a pan hit me all at once and before I knew what was happening, tears had gathered in the corners of my eyes.

I hastily brushed them away, not wanting Declan to see them.

He came in behind me and placed my suitcase in the foyer.

“Dad? Muddy?” I called out.

“Hadley?” Muddy yelled back. “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” I confirmed. “Declan’s with me.”

“Hey,” Declan said, announcing his presence.

“Can’t leave the biscuits,” she hollered. “So come on in here.”

Declan followed me into the kitchen. It was beautifully stained dark oak with red and white gingham curtains. Salem had tried to convince Muddy to let her redecorate, but she’d been adamant about leaving everything as it was.

My grandmother was a tall, wiry woman just shy of seventy. Her long gray hair was pulled back into a tight braid that hit the middle of her back and she wore one of my grandfather’s old flannel shirts.

She set the wooden spoon down and quickly enveloped me into a tight hug. “I’m so happy to see you. But aren’t you supposed to be in Italy?”

I glanced at Declan to see his reaction to that announcement, but his face was clear of emotion.

“Change of plans,” I averred, pulling away from my grandmother. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“Message? What message?” Muddy asked as she picked up the wooden spoon and went back to stirring the gravy.

I rolled my eyes. “I called your cell last night. You didn’t answer, so I assumed you’d already gone to bed.”

“I don’t know where my cell phone is,” she said. “It’s also on silent.”

I sighed. “Great. We’ll never find it.”

“Never say never,” she said. “It’s probably in my crocheting chair.”

“I also called Dad last night, and his cell went to voicemail. Where is he, anyway?”

Muddy paused for a moment and then said, “Out.”

“Out?” I raised my brows. “Dad is out? It’s not even seven in the morning.”

“You staying for breakfast, Declan?” Muddy asked instead of replying.

“If you’ll have me, ma’am,” he replied.

Muddy fixed him a heaping plate and did the same for me. We took our food to the dining room table and as I was peppering my gravy, the front door opened.

“Connor,” Muddy called. “Your daughter came home.”

“Which daughter?” came my father’s low, raspy voice.

“Your favorite one,” I called out.

“Salem?” Dad teased.

I laughed and scooted my chair back from the table and rose just as my dad came into the dining room. He quickly enveloped me into a bear hug, squeezing me tight.

He pulled back and dropped his arms. “Morning, Declan.”

“Morning,” Declan said.

“Yeah, good morning, Dad. Where were you?” I asked, hands on my hips.

“Out,” he said evasively. He inclined his head. “Why are you home? You’re supposed to be in Italy.”

“So you didn’t get my message either.” I sighed.

He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. A moment later it beeped. “Ah, yep. There’s the voicemail.” He looked at me. “What time did you get in?”

“Late. I took a flight out of New York around nine.”

“And how did you get to the Ridge?” Dad demanded.

“Cab.”

“You did what? You know I don’t trust cab drivers.”

“Relax,” I said lightly. “It was either take a cab or stay the night in the airport and then have you come get me in the morning.”

“I’d have preferred to come and get you,” he huffed.

“Your phone was off, and Muddy lost hers,” I pointed out. “How would I have gotten a ride?”

“I didn’t lose my phone,” Muddy protested. “It’s just momentarily misplaced.”

Dad rolled his eyes the same blue shade as mine and grinned at me. “I’m getting a plate of food and then we’re having a talk.”

He went into the kitchen to speak to Muddy, leaving me alone with Declan.

“So, you were supposed to be in Italy, huh?” Declan asked.

“Yep.”

“Going on a solo journey?”

“My dad hates that I took a cab from the airport. How do you think he’d feel about me solo traveling?”

“So, you weren’t going to Italy alone . . . Girls’ trip?”

His line of questioning would eventually lead to the truth.

“Don’t you have things to wrangle?” I asked pointedly.

Declan smiled. “In a bit. I still have bacon on my plate.”

I grabbed the remaining slice and put it into my mouth.

His eyes widened. “You ate my bacon.”

“Sure did. Now you can get on with your day.”

“You ate my bacon,” he said again. “Are you trying to start a fight?”

“Who’s starting a fight?” Muddy asked as she came into the dining room with a plate of food.

Dad followed her.

“No one,” I said.

Declan looked at Dad. “We got a bear close by. Grizzly.”

“Yeah?” Dad asked. “You saw it this morning?”

“Last night. When I prevented it from eating your daughter.”

I glared at him.

“Hadley?” Muddy asked, her gaze bouncing between me and Declan. “Something you want to tell us?”

“I got home late last night and I didn’t want to wake you guys up. I was going crash in the cabin. I didn’t realize that the cabin was occupied,” I said pointedly. “I was having trouble getting the door open. The bear came out of nowhere and it would’ve gotten me if Declan hadn’t pulled me inside.”

“So you slept in the cabin?” Muddy asked with a raise of her brows.

“Yes,” I said.

“I gave her the bed,” Declan added quickly. “And I took the couch.”

Dad looked at Declan, his expression tightening.

Declan didn’t appear at all put out and I silently cheered him.

Not many men could withstand what my dad threw down.

He was a tough man. An old-school rancher with the grit and strength to back up his statements.

But where his daughters were concerned, he was a big softie.

People talk about women, but Hell hath no fury like an overprotective father trying to keep a charming cowboy away from one of his daughters.

“Well, I better get to work,” Declan said, rising from his chair. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Leave the dish in the sink,” Muddy said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Declan took his plate into the kitchen and then a few moments later, the front door opened and closed.

“All right,” Dad said. “It’s just the three of us now. You wanna tell me why you’re home and not in Italy with your fiancé?”