Page 32 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

The Ranch

Breakfast started off super awkward. Muddy and I tried to fill the silence with inane chatter. Declan sat next to me, and he placed his hand on my thigh, which instantly calmed me.

I looked at Dad, who was watching me and Declan like bugs under a microscope. I straightened my spine and raised my brows. He sighed and went back to eating his bacon.

“So why did you come back early?” I asked.

“I saw all I needed to see. I purchased what I wanted to purchase,” he said. “Henry and Josiah are loading up the livestock and coming home.”

“You drove home by yourself?” I asked. “All alone?”

Dad narrowed his gaze. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I’m wondering if your special lady friend came with you,” I said with a wide smile.

“Lady friend?”

“Give it up, Dad.” I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re seeing someone.”

Dad’s gaze went to Declan. “You told her.”

“Told her,” I repeated, my gaze bouncing from Dad to Declan. “You knew?”

“Guess he didn’t tell her,” Muddy said, picking up her cup of coffee. “For the record, I didn’t tell her anything either. But she’s a smart cookie, and if you ever wonder where she gets the bad lying gene from, well that’s all you.”

“I’m still stuck on the fact that Declan knew Dad was dating someone.” I looked again at the man sitting next to me. “Oh, I remember now.”

“Remember what?” Declan asked, his expression tight.

“I asked you about it days ago and we never picked up the thread of conversation again. You distracted me.”

My dad made a noise.

“I didn’t want to betray his confidence,” Declan said finally.

“How’d you find out?” Muddy asked Declan.

“He saw me kissing her in the barn.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, well, well, now whose turn is it to explain?” I demanded. I glanced at Declan. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said lightly.

“I get that I have to accept this relationship,” Dad stated tightly. “But can you try not to flirt with each other in my presence?”

“We’ll try and tone it down,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“No, we won’t,” Declan drawled. He pulled my chair closer to him.

“Atta boy,” Muddy said, raising her cup of coffee to him.

Dad’s gaze narrowed at Declan but softened when he looked at me. “You don’t seem mad,” Dad said to me.

“I’m not mad. She’s the reason you didn’t want me going to the livestock auction with you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I wasn’t ready to—anyway, we’re done now.”

“Done?” Muddy asked. “Really?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because she wants to get married and I don’t,” he stated. “So, there you have it.”

“Dad,” I said softly. “Mom would want you to be happy again.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. Without another word, he strode from the house, the front door slamming shut.

I looked from Muddy to Declan. “Who is she? Let me guess. The veterinarian. Dr. Swanson.”

Declan nodded. “Yep.”

“What do you make of all this?” I asked Muddy.

“If I had to guess, I would say Dr. Swanson does make him happy. And that’s why he ended it.”

“Oh,” I said softly.

“Let him be, sugar. It’s for your father to figure out.” Muddy rose. “You kids mind cleaning up?”

“Not at all,” Declan said.

“You’re a good boy,” Muddy said, coming to him and patting his cheek. “Treat her well, or I’ll use the shotgun myself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Declan said formerly.

Muddy left, grabbing her jacket on the way out.

I stood up and began gathering the dishes.

“You’re mad at me,” Declan said. “For not telling you.”

“No.”

“Annoyed?”

A smile flickered across my lips. “Annoyed is a better word for it, and I am annoyed—just not for the reason you think.”

“Tell me then.” He went to the sink and grabbed the scrub brush.

“You know how to clean cast iron, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, because that pan has been seasoned for sixty years. My grandmother will kill you if you ruin it.”

“I know how to clean cast iron,” he assured me. “Back to what we were talking about.”

“I’m annoyed because you knew and instead of telling me you didn’t want to divulge what you knew, you misdirected me. Don’t misdirect me. Next time I can’t know something, then tell me that.”

“And you’ll just accept that as a viable answer?”

“Well, of course not.” I rolled my eyes. “But once I calm down, I’ll respect your decision to be an iron vault.”

“All right.”

“But you do know now that I’m your girlfriend we’re not supposed to have secrets, right? You’re supposed to tell me everything you know. Especially when it pertains to gossip.”

“So, if Salem tells you something in confidence, does that mean I get to know too?”

“Hell no. Salem isn’t just my sister. She’s my twin.”

“So let me get this straight; I have to tell you someone else’s confidence, even if they swear me to secrecy, but you won’t do the same.”

“That’s right.” I nodded.

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t make the rules, Declan. But what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine.”

His lips turned up in a smile. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.” I nodded.

“Hadley?”

“Hmm?”

“You called yourself my girlfriend,” he said.

“Oh.” I nibbled on my lip as I began loading the dirty breakfast plates into the dishwasher. “I just assumed—maybe I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Assuming is good,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He grinned at me and then leaned over and brushed his lips across mine. “Yeah.”

I sighed. We finished cleaning up the kitchen in companionable silence.

It made me think about doing this with him forever, but my heart saddened when I thought about no sounds of children’s laughter echoing through the house.

No Christmas mornings of squeals when they realized Santa had come the night before.

“Hey,” I said, feeling emotion jam my throat. “I know we were supposed to have a day together, but I really want to call Salem and my friends and tell them . . . well, everything.”

“Everything?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me.

“Not everything . But enough that they understand.” I placed my head against his chest and closed my eyes. He smelled like bacon, and I nuzzled my nose against his shirt.

“Stop that,” he whispered against my hair.

“Or what, my big, delicious snickerdoodle?”

“Or I’m carrying you out of here and taking you back to the cabin. And then I’ll have to make love to you on the hardwood floor with nothing but blankets because the mattress is still in the back of the truck.”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible,” I whispered, peering up at him.

“Hmm. No, it doesn’t.” He kissed me and then let me go. “Call Salem and your friends.”

“I want you to take me for another ride on the back of your motorcycle soon,” I said. “But I don’t have the clothes.”

“We’ll get you some clothes,” he promised. “And some hot boots.”

“We better be careful,” I whispered. “We don’t want anyone walking in while we’re flirting with each other.”

“We’re at the beginning of a relationship. If we can’t flirt now, how are we supposed to cement it for years to come?”

“Valid question, Declan.” I stood on my toes and kissed him again. “Get out of here. And walk away from me. Slowly. I want to enjoy the view.”

“Your wish is my command, ma’am.” He pretended to doff his hat and then he turned and with an exaggerated swagger, walked away from me.

The front door closed, and I was alone.

With a deep breath, I went up the stairs to my bedroom. My cell phone was on my nightstand. I swiped it and immediately went into my closet. Even though my relationship was out in the open now, I didn’t want my dad to accidentally hear anything I said through the walls. Especially anything sexual.

I groaned in embarrassment when I remembered that he’d seen me with sex-hair.

“Don’t think about it,” I muttered aloud.

I turned on the closet light and closed the door. And then I dialed Salem.

“We’re on our second bottle of Prosecco,” she said in lieu of greeting.

“Oh, that’s fun,” I said. “Boozy brunch at the apartment?”

“Yep,” Salem said. “None of us wanted to get dressed. Wyn cooked.”

“Reluctantly,” Wyn called out.

“Hang on, let me put you on speaker. Okay, can you hear me?”

She was a bit echoey, but I could hear her. “Yep.”

“Hey, lady,” Poet said.

“How are you doing?” Wyn asked.

“I’m good.” I cleared my throat. “Really good, actually.”

“Mood stabilizer?” Wyn joked.

“Yeah, in the name of Declan,” Salem quipped.

“Guys, let her talk,” Poet said with a laugh.

When I stopped chuckling, I said, “So do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Bad,” Salem said.

“Yeah, bad,” Wyn agreed.

“No, good,” Poet stated.

“You’re outnumbered,” Salem said. “Sorry, Poet. Go on, Hadley, what’s up?”

I swallowed and felt my heart leap into my throat. “I’m not coming back to New York.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone followed by Wyn saying, “We know. We already started packing up your stuff.”

“ What? ” I asked in shock. “You can’t be serious!”

“We’re serious,” Poet said. “The moment you told us you quit the restaurant, we went out and got boxes. You don’t have that much stuff, so we’ll send it to you in a few days.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “That seems anti-climactic.”

Salem still hadn’t said anything.

“Salem?” I pressed.

“I’m here,” she croaked.

“Are you . . . okay with my decision?”

She fell silent for a moment and then said, “Selfishly, no. I’m not okay with it. Unselfishly, I understand completely.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? We all knew this place wasn’t for you. It was only a matter of time . . .”

There was silence again and then Poet asked, “So what’s the good news?”

“Yeah, and is it dirty?” Wyn teased.

I laughed. “Positively filthy.”

“I’m sat,” Wyn said. “With bubbly. Tell us everything .”