Font Size
Line Height

Page 33 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Ranch

“Hey, come here, I want to show you something,” Declan said, taking my hand and leading me to his bedroom.

“Seriously, can you feed me first? I need protein for energy before we?—”

Declan laughed. “I’m not showing you my dick. I want to show you this . . .” He gestured to his dresser.

“What about it?” I asked in confusion.

“Open the top drawer.”

I opened the top drawer to find it empty. “There are no clothes in here.”

“No, there are not.”

I looked at him and then the drawer. “Oh . . .”

“Yeah. That’s for you. Your underwear, some socks. You know, so you don’t have to do the walk of shame back to the main house in soiled undies.”

My cheeks heated. “ Soiled undies?”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across my ear. “From my cum dripping out of you.”

I gripped his arm and swayed. “Declan!”

“I love it, Hadley,” he said, wrapping another arm around me. “I love looking at you and knowing that.”

“I need to sit down,” I murmured.

“Or lay down?” he asked wickedly.

“I can’t lay down,” I said. “We’re having dinner at the main house in a few minutes. Propriety. I can’t show up with sex-hair again.”

He sighed. “Fine. But when dinner’s over, we’re coming back over here.”

“Declan . . .”

“Yes?”

“I think I should sleep in my own bed tonight,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“ Because is not a reason,” he said. “You’re an adult.”

“I know.”

“We already told your dad, and I’m pretty sure Muddy is cheering us on. So what’s the problem?”

“That sassy pants has done nothing but cheer us both on,” I agreed. “But I don’t want—I know this is stupid. But I think my dad is hurting more over his breakup than he wants to admit.”

“So what? You’re not allowed to be happy if he’s unhappy?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just . . . I don’t want him to think . . .”

“That you’re choosing me over him,” he finished.

My eyes widened. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what’s in my head and spit it out for me?”

“I don’t know. I just get you. I get where your mind is at. I also know you’re a recovering people pleaser.” He grinned.

I grinned back. “Just for tonight, I promise.”

He sighed. “I understand. But the next time you sleep over, bring some socks and underwear. Preferably the black, lacy kind.”

“Okay. I’ll have to go buy some.” I looked down at his crotch to the bulge he was sporting. “If I thought you wouldn’t touch my hair and mess it up, I’d get on my knees for you and take care of that problem.”

“Hmm. You know I can’t stop myself from touching you.”

I bit my lip and then boldly met his gaze. “Maybe I should tie you up and have my way with you.”

“Please, God, yes .” He kissed my lips and tried to deepen the moment.

I gently pushed away from him when all I wanted to do was pull him closer. “We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, we do,” he agreed. He took a deep breath. “You go on ahead. I’ll take care of this problem and then join you at dinner.”

“Can I watch?” I blurted out.

“You want to watch me jack myself off to the thought of you in black lacy panties?”

“Please?”

His eyes darkened. “Fuck yeah you can watch, but I’m gonna want to come all over you. And once again that defeats the purpose of not showing up at your family’s house looking like we got into trouble.”

I swallowed, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. Of us tasting each other.

“Go,” he urged. “I need a cold shower. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Fifteen minutes? Seriously?” I asked.

He grinned. “Time me.”

I pulled out my phone. “Okay. I will.” I set the clock and with one last kiss goodbye, I forced myself to walk out of the cabin. I headed back to the main house, keeping an eye on the time.

Dad and Muddy were in the kitchen, having cocktails. I shook my head at my father’s offer of bourbon and grabbed water instead.

“Where’s Declan?” Muddy asked.

“Showering,” I said. “He’ll be along in a bit.”

I was in the middle of setting the table when my phone alarm went off. I silenced it just as the front door opened.

“Hey,” Declan greeted, his eyes finding mine. “Was that your alarm?”

“It was.” I bit my lip to stifle a giggle.

He arched a brow and then turned his attention to Muddy. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Pour yourself a drink. Connor’s in the den.”

“That was pointed,” I said with a laugh.

“It sure was,” Muddy agreed. She handed me a basket covered with a napkin. “Biscuits.”

Declan went into the den and straight to the liquor cart. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he sat on the other end of couch and didn’t say anything to my father.

“This is going to be fun,” I muttered.

“Give them some time. They were buddies before you got between them.”

I gasped. “I didn’t get between them.”

Muddy raised her brows.

“Fine, but I didn’t mean to.”

“Green beans, and mashed potatoes,” she said, pointing to the dishes. “And take a trivet. I’m bringing the tenderloin right from the oven.”

“On it,” I said.

“We’re ready,” Muddy called out.

Dad wasted no time getting up from his seat and bringing his drink to the table. Declan was slower. I took the chair next to Declan and we all sat down. Muddy brought in the beef tenderloin and poured gravy over the top of it.

“Smells amazing,” Declan said.

“It does,” I agreed. “Doesn’t it, Dad?”

Dad grunted.

After Muddy took her seat, I picked up the basket of biscuits and handed it to my father. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he said.

“I think a storm’s on its way,” Muddy said. “One of our famous late spring storms.”

“Muddy has a sense about these things,” I said to Declan.

“I like storms,” Declan said awkwardly.

God, are we really talking about the weather?

“What’s your favorite season?” I asked.

“Winter,” he said. “Christmas, especially.”

“Winter is long here,” I said. “But there’s an ice sculpture festival. I’m so glad I don’t have to miss it this year.”

“We should enter,” Declan said. “It would be fun.”

“Yes,” I said in excitement.

“You’ll have to take him sledding on Maple Mountain,” Muddy added. “And ice skating on Lavender Lake.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” I looked from Declan to my dad.

Dad held his fork in his hand and his brow was wrinkled in thought. A slight smile appeared on his lips. “You can’t forget hot chocolate and chocolate fondue at Sweet Teeth.”

I nodded. “You have to reserve tickets. They do seatings.”

“Winter in Huckleberry Hill sounds kind of amazing,” Declan said.

My hand rested on the table and Declan covered it with his own and gave it a squeeze.

The tension around the dinner table eased and conversation began to flow.

“I bought you a present,” Dad said to me. “It should be here tomorrow.”

“What did you get me?” I asked in excitement.

“I’m not telling you.” He looked at Declan. “She loves surprises.”

“Does she?” Declan asked. “Good to know.”

“No, don’t do that,” I moaned. “Don’t tell him that.”

“Don’t ever tell her what you’re planning,” Dad went on. “Because if she knows too early, she gets really happy, but then she gets really sad.”

“It’s a dopamine thing,” I said. “When the surprise is no longer a surprise, I kind of crash.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“You’re really not going to tell me?” I asked Dad.

Muddy laughed. “You just said not to spoil it for you.”

“I am my own worst enemy.” I sighed. “I talked to Salem and the girls today.”

“Yeah?” Dad perked up.

I nodded. “I told them I wasn’t going back to New York. None of them were surprised. In fact, they already started packing my boxes.”

Dad nodded, his expression turning solemn.

Declan noticed and looked at me.

Later, I mouthed.

He inclined his head and went back to eating. “I need this recipe,” Declan said. “It’s fantastic.”

“It really is,” I agreed.

“I’ll write it down for you,” Muddy said.

Declan frowned. “You don’t have it written down?”

Muddy shook her head and tapped her temple. “It’s stashed up here.”

“Along with many other great dishes,” I said. “Everything I know about cooking I learned from her.”

“Why haven’t you cooked for me?” Declan asked.

“Because you always offer to cook for me,” I reminded him. “And you’re no slouch.”

“You’ve cooked for her?” Dad asked.

“Yes,” Declan replied.

“When?”

“Dad,” I muttered.

“I’m just curious.”

“He made me his kitchen-sink nachos on the night of our first date. With homemade brisket.”

“Brisket?” Dad asked.

Declan nodded. “Yep.”

Dad paused. “I love brisket.”

“Yeah?” Declan asked.

“And beer,” Dad added. “I like bourbon better, but I like beer. Local beer. With pool tables.”

I frowned in confusion and looked at Muddy. She shook her head and shrugged.

“I like pool,” Declan said.

Dad stood up from the table, his plate only half finished.

Declan did the same.

“I’m driving,” Dad announced. To me he and Muddy he said, “Don’t wait up.”

The two of them left the room without another word.

“What’s that about?” I asked in confusion.

“If I had to guess, I’d say that’s your father’s olive branch,” Muddy said. “He’s taking Declan to the Copper Mule.”

“Oh,” I said with a sigh. “That’s good.”

She frowned.

“What?” I demanded.

“There’s no pistol in the glove box, right?”

“Muddy!”

“Well,” she shrugged, “there’s two ways this can go. We’ll just have to wait and see which one your father chooses.”