Page 50 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

elena

“ W ear the damn dress,” Joy ordered.

“I’m going to look like a hooker.” I eyed the red dress on the hanger outside the fitting room with disdain. “My boobs are gonna fall out of that thing.”

“You remember what cleavage looks like?”

I looked down at my chest. “You mean that thing where you wear an uncomfortable bra that squishes your tits together? Nah. I’ve worked very hard to forget about that, and I ain’t interested in remembering.”

When I told Joy I had a date, she made me come to her store, Bringing You Joy, on Wildflower Canyon’s Main Street.

Her boutique was a popular destination because it was charming, stylish, and just trendy enough to make you feel like you belonged in a city without forgetting you lived in ranch country.

It wasn’t designer—no overpriced labels, no salespeople sneering at your worn boots—but it was high-end, so you could buy a damn good pair of jeans, a leather jacket that’d last you years, and a dress sexy enough to make a man forget how to talk.

Which was exactly what Joy was trying to force on me now.

“Wear the damn dress,” she ordered again, hands on her hips.

I glared at the offending piece of red fabric hanging from the dressing room door. “I don’t want to look like a ho, Joy.”

Joy snorted. “Excuse me, but you’ll be a high-class ho.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not helping.”

She grinned, unapologetic. “Duke won’t know what hit him.”

I rolled my eyes. The man was already dangerous enough without me traipsing around in a dress designed to make him forget all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.

I sighed, grabbing the stupid outfit. "Fine. But if my boobs fall out, you're bailing me out of jail when I punch someone for staring."

Joy clapped her hands together like she'd won the lottery. "Deal."

I came out of her boutique flustered, wearing the damn dress and a new matching pair of bra and panties. Joy had tried to get me to buy new shoes, but I had put my booted foot down on that. I was happy to wear a dress, but it was with cowboy boots. She relented, grudgingly .

“Well, since cowgirl chic is all the rage these days, you’ll actually look trendy with those boots. Do you have anything less scuffed?”

I looked at my boots. “I work in a ranch with horses; how would my boots not be scuffed?”

Joy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Your man is taking you out on a date; you can put in some effort.”

“I came here, didn’t I?”

Joy stepped out with me as I waited for Duke to pick me up as I’d asked him to. I was running late because one of the horses needed a little extra TLC, so I got Hunt to drop me off at Joy’s, which he did with great pleasure and dismay.

“You dressing up for your date with bossman?” Hunt mused. “But I thought you said you wouldn’t dress up or wear makeup.”

“Just shut the fuck up and drive,” I ordered sullenly.

I wanted to look pretty. I wanted to…well, make Duke feel good about dating me.

Compared to Fiona, my nails weren’t manicured.

All I could say about them was that they were clean (now).

My skin was beaten up because of the sun, and I’d never in my life had a facial; my idea of makeup was: Well, I didn’t have one, so Joy had helped me out with that as well, even though I told her I didn’t need or want it.

I felt warm all over standing on Main Street, waiting for my date to pick me up.

The heart of Wildflower Canyon wasn’t big, but it was lively. Here, you couldn’t go five feet without someone waving or calling your name. Brick storefronts lined both sides, most of them family-owned, passed down through generations.

Spring was in full bloom now, and I wasn’t surprised to see a couple of kids run past with dripping ice cream cones, their parents strolling behind them. The scent of fresh pie wafted from Baker’s Hollow, and I was half-tempted to grab a slice and head back to the ranch, the hell with dinner.

I looked at the stupid black clutch Joy had given me for my phone and Chapstick. “Is this expensive?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“I….”

“It’s not the store’s, it’s mine, and you’re borrowing it.”

“What if I…ah…damage it.”

Joy shrugged.

“I hate all you rich people in your fancy clothes and not caring about how much things cost,” I muttered.

Joy rolled her eyes. “Please, you’re dating Duke Wilder, so let’s not even !”

Holy shit! I was dating Duke. Openly. In public. Where people could see us! This was nuts—all of it.

Then I caught my reflection in the window of her boutique—and for a moment, I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t look like me.

The red dress hugged every curve, the neckline dipping just enough to be dangerous. Joy had made me swap out my usual braided ponytail for loose waves (she had used a blow dryer and a brush), and the eye makeup she’d insisted on made my eyes look a little too soft, a little too hopeful.

I had freaking lipstick on. Red. Fire fucking engine red.

“Hell, Joy. Who the hell is this woman?”

“It’s Elena Rivera,” she murmured. “Everyone deserves to be pampered once in a while, sweetheart. You work so hard; take a break tonight, enjoy your man, wear a flirty dress, and live.”

I let out a ragged breath and then another when Duke pulled up in one of the ranch trucks.

He looked poleaxed when he stepped out and looked at me.

Joy smirked beside me, linking her arm through mine. "You’re welcome, Duke.”

He managed to look away from me to Joy and smiled in greeting.

He angled forward and kissed her cheek. “How are you doing, gorgeous?” But his eyes kept straying to me. Talk about making a girl nervous.

Joy pushed me almost into him. “I dressed her up for you.”

“God bless you, Joy.” Duke’s blue eyes raked over me like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself; my nerves turned into something else entirely… heat .

“Say somethin’,” I said once Joy went back into her store.

Duke looked me up and down, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I should.”

I arched a brow. “Why not? ”

His gaze dragged from my bare shoulders to the dip of the red dress at my waist, then back up again. “Because I was raised to be a gentleman.”

I snorted. “By Nash?”

Duke grinned. “Fair point.” He opened the passenger door of the truck. “Get in, darlin’. Before I say something I can’t take back.”

We drove the short distance to Blackwood Prime.

I continued to feel nervous. People would see us.

People would see me dressed up, and they’d know.

The thought made me uneasy, but it also made me feel good because it meant that Duke was publicly acknowledging there was something between us.

What that was wasn’t clear to me , but I couldn’t deny that the old chemistry was still there, sparking nerve endings.

Duke put a hand on the small of my back as he ushered me into the restaurant. “ Florecita , you look amazing and…,” he paused when we came to the hostess table, “ mine .”

He took my hand in his, and I wondered what the hell I was doing with this man I loved. I’d get hurt, and this time it would hurt like a motherfucker.

By the time we slid into a booth at Blackwood Prime, I was freaking the hell out.

Duke ordered the wine, a bottle of something red.

I didn’t know wine from my ass—actually, I didn’t know much about anything but whiskey, and what I knew there wasn’t much to write home about.

I knew beer—but I just got whatever was on tap.

It wasn’t like I didn’t come to Blackwood Prime, I did since Maverick owned the restaurant.

But when we met up, I usually sat at the bar in jeans and a button-down.

“It’s my first date,” I blurted out when Duke filled my wine glass.

He quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“First time…ah…usually, I just…you know, meet someone and go to you know, to….” I was pretty sure you were not supposed to talk about having sex with other men with your date. That didn’t sound particularly dignified.

“You and I went on dates.”

“By the river,” I reminded him.

“With a picnic basket and a blanket,” he countered, then softened. “You’ve never gone to a restaurant with a man?”

“I have.” I bit my lower lip. “With friends. You know…Hunt or Mav or…like that.”

He studied me and smiled. “I guess I’m going to have to take you out on a whole lot of dates to make up for that.”

That eased something inside me. “You have a lot of practice?” I chided.

He set the wine bottle down. “Yes, baby, I do, but that’s because I’ve been working up to being here with you.”

I made a face. “You have a silver tongue, Duke Wilder. Never known a man to string words as smoothly as you do.”

“I try.” He picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed my knuckles. “I can’t tell you how many dreams are coming true tonight, Elena.”

Tears pricked my eyes at his sincerity.

“No, baby, let’s be happy; don’t you think we deserve that?” he pleaded. “I don’t want you sad; you’ve had a lifetime of it, and so have I. We have each other now, and I’m going to cherish every second of it—and make us happy.”

I sniffled and controlled my tears. He was right. Instead of being afraid that I’d get hurt in the future, maybe I should live in the moment and be happy . We’d both been through the wringer thanks to our parents, and we didn’t have to keep living in the past.

“T-Bone or New York Strip?” I asked to lighten the mood.

Duke’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “New York Strip. T-Bone’s too much work, and I don’t like fighting with my food.”

I chuckled, relaxing into the moment. “Figures that you’d go for efficiency.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And you? Still a ribeye girl?”

I grinned. “Damn right. More marbling, more flavor.”

He nodded approvingly. “Can’t argue with that.”

I tapped a finger against my glass. “Alright, sauces. A1 or homemade?”

Duke pretended to be offended. “If you ruin a good steak with A1, you deserve to eat boot leather.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s the right answer. ”

His eyes twinkled. “What about you?”

I drank some wine. It was nice , I guess. “I’d rather go without than drown a steak in sauce, but if it’s got a good peppercorn or chimichurri, I won’t say no.”

He lifted his glass. “To knowing what’s good.”

I clinked my glass against his. “To good food and….”

Duke watched me over the rim of his glass as he took a sip and then added, “And better company.”

I flushed. “Okay,” I continued, shifting gears, “best salad dressing?”

He wrinkled his nose. “None.”

I scoffed. “You just eat dry lettuce like some kind of psychopath?”

“I don’t eat lettuce at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you don’t.”

He shrugged. “I’m a meat and potatoes man, darlin’. You can take the boy out of the ranch, but you can’t take the meat and potatoes out of him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, unable to hide my smile.

He chuckled, then cocked his head. “Alright, my turn—mashed potatoes or baked?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Loaded baked. What about you?”

His lips quirked. “Mashed. Simple. No nonsense.”

I shook my head. “They do it really well here. You’ll be missing out.”

“Nah,” he said, looking at me like he wasn’t just talking about food. “I know what I like.”

I swallowed hard. We were flirting. Really flirting. And suddenly, it wasn’t just playful banter anymore—it was a slow, unfamiliar dance.

I cleared my throat and reached for my drink. “Alright, last one?—”

“Dessert,” Duke finished for me.

I nodded. “You a pie man?”

He leaned forward. “I’d like to eat you for dessert, baby.”

I gasped and was grateful that the server came to take our order because Duke had left me speechless.