Page 31 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

elena

R odeo week meant longer hours, more moving parts, no time for bullshit—and absolutely no time to think about Duke kissing me.

Right!

I was up before the sun, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, running down lists of horses, riders, and transport schedules. The ranch was already alive with hurried movement.

Horses needed to be exercised, brushed out, leg-wrapped, and hauled into town by the weekend.

The Wilder stock—fast, strong, well-bred—would be competing in everything from barrel racing to team roping to reining.

A few of the rougher ones would be in ranch bronc riding, where real cowboys like Jace tested their guts on ranch-broke broncs, not rodeo circuit stock.

Why the hell would he kiss me? And why the hell did it feel so good?

This was the biggest event of the year for us in Wildflower Canyon. The rodeo was more than just prize money and bragging rights. It was where deals got made, where buyers watched and took notes, where a good ride could mean a sale.

That mouth of his had changed and the way he kissed was more refined, but his taste remained the same addictive deliciousness.

Ben oversaw the stock horses, making sure every gelding, mare, and stallion were primed and ready. I handled the competitors, talking to riders, running last-minute vet checks, and making sure our horses were assigned to the right events.

And in the middle of all that, I had Fiona breathing down my damn neck. Fiona had been harping on meetings all morning, dragging me into conversations I didn’t have time for, demanding reports I had already given her.

At least she was dressed for the job now. After two weeks on the ranch, she’d ditched the heels and designer suits and was wearing designer jeans, boots, and a shirt. It didn’t make her fit in, but at least she wasn’t tottering through the dirt like a lost tourist anymore.

And that body of his? He was all hard muscle. I was used to men who worked with their hands and bodies…but Duke was…God!

Stop thinking about him, Elena, and get to fuckin’ work!

I had just finished checking the weight on a gelding for the team roping event when Miss Bitch marched up, tablet in hand, expression tight with frustration .

“Elena, I need the final numbers on the horses being entered. Now .”

I didn’t even look up from my notes. “Already sent them to Duke yesterday.”

“I want them from you.”

I breathed out slowly, steadying myself as I flipped through my tablet, checking the paperwork. “Two in reining, three in barrel racing, four in roping, four in cutting, and three in bronc riding.” I looked up. “Anything else?”

Fiona crossed her arms. “Who’s riding?”

“Ben, Jace, Caleb, and a few others.”

She tapped a finger against her tablet, frowning like I’d personally offended her. “And you?”

I paused. “What about me?”

“Are you competing?”

I arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“These are not your horses. They belong to us, so?—”

“Us?”

“Duke and me,” she said with a broad smile.

“Duke, yes. You, no.”

She let out a short, irritated exhale. “Since Duke and I are getting married, it is us .”

The barn behind had been full of activity—men saddling horses, the sound of hooves scuffing against the dirt, the hum of conversation. But the second those words left Fiona’s mouth, a few of them went quiet.

She noticed.

She didn’t care.

A roar went through me, but I kept my demeanor unchanged. Married? He was getting married to this bitch on heels? Then why the hell was he kissing me?

She took a step closer, lowering her voice, “Stay away from my man .”

I looked her in the eye and slowly shook my head. “You should have more dignity than this.”

Fiona stiffened. “Excuse me?”

I shrugged, voice calm, “I don’t fight over men. And neither should you.”

That’s when the ranch hands decided to have some fun, and as far as I saw it, she had no one to blame but herself for having this conversation with an audience.

Someone clapped. Another let out a low whistle. Then came the jeers.

“Damn, Miss Elena, tell her.”

“If he’s gonna marry her, I’m gonna eat my hat,” Clay announced.

“If he’s gonna marry her, she’s gonna make him eat his hat,” Ray decided.

Fiona’s face flushed red.

She looked around at the grinning cowboys and the stable hands, none of whom were even pretending not to be amused.

Her breath came sharp and fast, her fingers tightening around her tablet like she wanted to throw it at me.

I didn’t move. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. I didn’t need to.

“Anything else?” I finally asked. “’Cause we’re busier than a hooker on nickel night.”

Fiona turned on her boot heel and marched out of the stable.

“She gonna come back?” Ben wanted to know.

“I fuckin’ hope not.” I rolled my shoulders. I had work to do.

But the universe had a beef against me because while I was brushing down Riot, our prized stallion set to run in the barrel racing finals, the damn horse decided he had an itch he couldn’t reach and nearly knocked me flat trying to scratch it against the stall door.

"Easy, you big bastard," I muttered, steadying myself as Riot leaned his full weight into me, rubbing his shoulder hard against the stall door like I was a fence post.

That’s when Duke decided to interrupt me. I felt him before I saw him—that shift in the air, like a storm rolling in.

Riot snorted, tossing his head as I shoved at his muscled frame, but my focus had already sharpened on the man standing just outside the stall.

“You always this bad at keeping your feet under you?” Duke asked, his voice lazy, amused.

I huffed, giving Riot one last firm brush before turning to face him. “Only when I’ve got a thirteen-hundred-pound animal trying to scratch his ass on me.”

Duke’s gaze flickered over the horse, then back to me. "He's running in the finals?"

"Fastest time in qualifiers. If he keeps his head straight, we’ll take home the buckle.”

Duke didn’t say anything at first. Just let his eyes drift around the barn, taking in the saddles hung neatly on their racks, the dust hanging in the golden afternoon light, like he was remembering something.

I was, too. We’d made love in this stable once, desperate for each other, wanting, wanting, wanting… .

Finally, he whispered out a breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. "We need to talk."

I crossed my arms, leveling him with a stare. "That so?"

I went about taking care of Riot. “You know we’re busy, yeah? And, yet, first, I have Fiona walkin’ in here throwin’ her weight around, and now you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I let out a slow breath and kept working.

“Elena?” he commanded.

I glanced over my shoulder, finally meeting his gaze. “Say what you got to say, Duke.”

He huffed a short laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “Sometimes, I think you forget who the boss is.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to Riot, running the brush down his flank in slow, steady strokes, keeping my hands busy.

"Your woman was running her mouth about that. Said she was my boss." I reached for the hoof pick.

I could feel his eyes on me as I bent down, lifting Riot’s front hoof and scraping out the packed dirt. The stallion shifted, impatient, sensing the tension in the air.

"Easy, boy," I murmured, setting the hoof back down and moving to the other side. "Almost done. "

“In some ways, she is your boss,” he said softly. “As she’s helping me sell the place.”

“ Fine ,” I snapped. “Is that it?”

“It’ll wait until you’re done with Riot.” He kept with the soft and gentle, annoying the hell out of me.

I worked in silence, letting Duke stand there like a damn ghost while I checked the stallion over one last time—ran my hands along his legs, adjusted the lead rope, made sure he was settled.

Finally, I gave Riot a solid pat on the neck and stepped back, wiping my hands on my jeans. Then, and only then, did I turn to Duke.

“Yeah?”

He grinned. “Watching you work the horses…it’s different than it used to be.”

“We shootin’ the shit, Duke, or you got something to say?” Impatience flooded my voice. I wanted this man outta my life, ‘cause I wanted this man’s mouth on mine. I wanted… him .

“The land is in your blood,” he continued like I hadn’t just snapped at him. “Not mine anymore.”

I studied him, taking in the way he held himself—not stiff, not rigid, but different. “Nash would disagree.”

Duke nodded once, but whatever moment was between us disappeared with his next words. “Appreciate it.” Then, after a beat, “Since you’re only here a little while, you should probably try to keep things smooth with Fiona.”

My fingers tightened around the stall door handle.

“Smooth,” I echoed.

Duke sighed deeply. “You know what I mean.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond because Cal strolled in, smirking like he already knew something I didn’t, which was his usual posture with everyone .

“Elena, you tell the bossman about your little dust-up with Fiona?”

Fucking Cal!

“I heard she was here,” Duke said flatly, telling Cal he wasn’t having this conversation.

Well, tough shit because Cal was his own man and didn’t give two hoots about what the bossman thought. “But did you hear what she said? Thought you might’ve since the whole damn stable did.”

“Elena, explain?” Duke commanded.

This man and his orders. Christ! He and Fiona were made for each other.

Cal, either oblivious or not giving a damn, kept going. “Your lady told Elena to back off… you .” He grinned. “Told her you were her man, and you were getting married.”

Duke’s whole body went stiff. “She said that?”

Cal grunted, amused. “She did and then said ‘cause you’re getting married, Elena was her bitch. Our girl here shot her down, and it was beautiful to watch. She said, ‘ I don’t fight over men. And neither should you .’ She’s pure class, our Elena.”

Duke turned to me, his voice low and edged with something dangerous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I met his gaze, steady. “You said she was my boss, and I have to eat the shit she shovels. ”

His brow furrowed. “Elena?—”

I cut him off before he could finish. “I know where I stand, Duke.”

His jaw was clenched, but I wasn’t done.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish getting the horses ready and work like a fucking dog for you and Fiona. Thanks for letting me know she’s my…ah…boss. You hear that, Cal?”

Cal swore. “That ain’t fuckin’ right! If that woman’s the boss, I’m quittin’. No two ways about it, Duke.”

“She’s just working with Elena, not any of you,” Duke assured Cal sharply.

“That ain’t right either.” Ben came to stand next to me. “I guess you’re marrying her and all, but she’s mean as a rattlesnake.”

“Watch your words, son,” Duke warned.

“Maybe you should ask your woman to do that.” Ben wasn’t backing down. “And if you gotta problem with me sayin’ that, sir, you can tell me now, and I’ll walk right on?—”

“Enough.” I raised a hand. “Cal, Ben, get to work and get the fuck outta my stable.”

Once they left, I looked at Duke. “Message noted. Anything else?”

Duke opened his mouth, then closed it.

“You know what I’m tired of, Duke?” I closed my eyes for a moment and then looked at him, watching me, waiting for me to tell him my truth. “I’m tired of being fucked around with—first you, then Mama, then Nash…and now Fiona. You don’t want me here; you tell me now . I’ll leave right now .”

“To Maverick Kincaid?” Something ugly came into his eyes, and it made me feel dirty.

“Why the hell do you care, bossman?” I threw at him. “You’re marrying whatshername .”

“Who I marry is none of your business.”

I laughed without humor. “And where I go because you’re treating me worse than Nash did—and he was pretty fuckin’ bad—is none of yours. So…you want me gone?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “No,” he bit out grudgingly.

“Then ask your woman not to speak to me. She does, so help me God, I’ll wipe the floor with her.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fuckin’ promise. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”