Page 23 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

elena

H unt paced the small space of my office in the stables, his boots scuffing against the wood floor, arms crossed so tight across his chest I was surprised he hadn’t cracked a rib.

“You wanna tell me why the hell you stood there and let that woman talk to you like that?” he demanded.

I pressed back against my desk, arms braced at my sides, letting him get it out of his system. Hunt didn’t yell—not really—but his voice had that low, cutting edge to it that meant he was just about done with everyone’s bullshit, including mine.

“It’s done,” I said simply.

“Like hell it is.” He turned to Amos. “You see that? She didn’t even blink. You’d think she was a damn fence post the way she took it.”

Amos sat on my chair behind the desk. He set his booted feet up on the table. “I noticed, and I didn’t like it either.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You two done?”

“Not even close,” Hunt shot back.

Amos looked around, taking in the office—the filing cabinets shoved into a corner, the shelves lined with horse records, the saddle I hadn’t finished cleaning resting on a stand. His eyes settled on me.

“This isn’t the ranch house.”

I shrugged. “Never said it was.”

“You used to work in Nash’s office,” Amos pointed out.

“And, if you noticed, that office has a new occupant.” I parked my ass on the table and pushed Amos’s boots off.

Hunt gave a bitter little laugh. “She didn’t have a choice, Amos. Bossman tried to fire her.”

Amos didn’t react right away. He just studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “I know.”

That got both of our attention.

Hunt narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”

Amos rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Knew Nash a long time. Knew how things were. You think I didn’t see this coming?” He shook his head. “Kid was angry. Still is. But he didn’t make her leave, did he?”

Hunt grunted. “I told him no one would buy his horses if she left…may also have told him I’d leave if she did.”

I didn’t like the way they were both talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there.

“If you two are done dissecting my life, I’ve got work to do.”

Neither of them looked convinced .

“Oh, you’ll like this next part,” Hunt said, feigning false casualness. “Guess who won’t be bothering you anymore?”

The crazy woman wearing heels and a suit on a ranch?

I frowned. “Who?”

He smirked. “Sawyer.”

I didn’t work with that punk. I let Hunt manage him. “Huh?”

“He’s gone.”

I raised both eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

Hunt looked pleased with himself. “Let’s just say Duke made sure he won’t be running his mouth about you again.”

I stilled. “How did he do that?”

“Played poker with him.”

I rolled my eyes. Hunt chuckled. Amos hissed.

Everyone knew Duke was a card shark—well, at least, anyone who knew him, which was several of the ranch hands.

“What’s your point?” I inquired nonchalantly.

Hunt looked bemused. “Point is Sawyer got his ass handed to him.”

Amos made a low sound in his throat. “Ain’t that something.”

It was something . I just wasn’t sure what.

I pushed off the desk and clapped my hands together as if shaking off dust. “I got work, so I need you both to fuck off!”

“Work as in producing that damn report for that damn b?—”

“Out,” I cut Hunt off.

Fiona was a bitch, no doubt about it. She also was used to getting her way and having Duke’s support while she did, which was obvious in the way in which she kept looking at him, incredulous that he wasn’t handing our asses to us and was instead asking her to behave.

Their dynamic seemed fucked up to me. But what the heck did I know about relationships? Not like I’d ever been in one, not counting the three months with Duke, which was more a summer affair than a relationship.

Hunt wanted to know why I didn’t ask Fiona to go fuck herself? Well, because I was determined to let shit roll off me. I had a plan, and that involved selling the damn horses and the cattle and getting the hell out of here.

The kitchen smelled like the cinnamon bread Itzel liked to leave to proof, so it was ready to bake for breakfast. I came by later in the day, after dinner, when it was quiet, to check in on her.

When Nash was alive, I spent a lot of time with Itzel.

She reminded me of Mama—as she could’ve been if she hadn’t fallen in love with Nash and been her own person.

I sat at the worn wooden table with Itzel. She poured black coffee into cups, and I added the bourbon—our nightcap .

“ Salut .” I clinked my cup with hers.

“So”—Itzel took a sip of the doctored coffee—“what’s next?”

I rubbed my thumb over the rim of the mug. “Don’t have the exact details.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Bullshit. You’re too organized not to know.”

I huffed a laugh. “No, really. I have a vague outline: sell the horses and now the cattle and…leave. I just don’t know where. There’s plenty of work in Wildflower Canyon. Maverick’s been trying to hire me for years.”

Itzel smiled knowingly. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

I lifted a shoulder and then let it drop. “No. I want to leave.”

She went quiet for a second, her dark eyes studying me. “I think it must be very hard to watch the man you love with another woman.”

I flinched at her statement. “Itzel, I don’t?—”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” She waved her hand. “How long before the ranch sells? I’m going to stay until you do, and then….”

“I have four jobs lined up for you.” I pulled out a sheet of paper from my jeans and put it in front of her. “Here are the ranches and salary.”

She reached across the table, squeezed my hand once, then let go. “Elena Rivera, always taking care of everyone. Who’s taking care of you, mija ?”

I ignored her question. “I’d work for Maverick, only if you’re okay with the parade of women through his bedroom, pool, sauna….”

We both laughed.

“Kaz Chase is looking for a new housekeeper. Melissa left a month ago and?—”

“Because she was sick and tired of all his high-falutin’ guests,” Itzel cut in. “Cade Mercer…now that is a possibility.”

Cade had a well-run cattle breeding program and was thinking of running for mayor of Wildflower Canyon.

“Housekeeping plus taking care of his three-year-old when needed.” I pointed to the note below his name. “Which is why he’s prepared to pay more.”

Itzel nodded. “I’ll call them over the next week. Thank you, Elena.”

I took a sip of my coffee. “You okay here at the house with…?”

She shrugged. “ Claro . They’re better than Nash.”

“That’s a low bar, Itzel,” I joked.

She drank some coffee. “That man was sour as hell, wasn’t he?”

I felt the pang of his absence, but not the grief. I’d said my goodbyes at the cabin. I would always miss Nash—our relationship had been complicated, but he’d been a part of me. Still, my heart wouldn’t keep breaking.

I knew that there were no shortcuts to mourning someone you loved. Grief took the time it took, and in the end, all you could do was learn to live with the space they left behind .

“Will you be there for the reading of the will tomorrow?” Itzel asked.

I shook my head. I knew Nash hadn’t left me anything. He’d told me as much. But he had left things for several of the ranch hands, cowboys, and, of course, Hunt. The bulk of everything we all knew went to Duke.

“So…things here are okay?” I tested the waters again.

Itzel made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “They’re fine, but I wish someone would tell Duke to keep that woman of his on a shorter leash.”

I arched a brow. “What did she do?”

“Her attitude is so…master to servant. I keep wanting to tell her that she ain’t the lady of the house. Hell, she ain’t a lady at all.” Itzel set her cup down with some force.

“She giving anyone else but you a hard time?” I knew Itzel could handle Fiona; hell, she could handle a dozen of them, so her annoyance was coming from another place.

Itzel pressed back in her chair, arms crossed. “I hear she’s shittin’ all over you, and you’re lettin’ her.”

“Hunt telling tales outside of school?” I mocked.

Itzel let out a shaky breath. “She was yelling at Ally, and… she’s just a kid. Apparently, she forgot to change some towels in the bathroom or something. I mean, this is a ranch, not a hotel. If she wants that kind of service—and a chocolate on her pillow—she needs to check into the W in Aspen.”

Allison was seventeen and lost. I hired her a few months ago after her boyfriend beat the crap out of her.

She worked for Itzel and did whatever was needed.

She was passable, which Itzel and I decided was just fine.

Ally would learn, and hopefully, she’d find her feet and figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

She’d just gotten rid of the limp that was a result of the beating, so we’d told her to take her time. She stayed in my old room in the house.

She had smart grades in high school, and I had talked to her about community college, promising to help her.

“I’ll talk to Duke.” I finished my coffee and rose. “Anything else?”

Itzel shook her head. “He should be the one talking about what I need since he’s the new bossman. I can’t believe he kicked you out of the office and…nearly out of the ranch when you’re the one who?—”

“You’ve got to let it go, as do Hunt and Amos,” I cut her off smoothly. “I have.”

Itzel glowered at me. “I doubt it very much, mija .”

She was right. But that didn’t mean I was going to admit the truth. I took my coffee cup to the sink, rinsed it, and stuck it into the dishwasher.

“Goodnight, Itzel.”

“You, too, mija .”