Page 19 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Wilder

Not this cowboy.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not usually an ass when a woman’s got her eye on me.

Ever since Bonnie, I like to keep things simple. No strings, just a good time. Trust doesn’t come easy for me these days.

No one’s worth the trouble.

Never mind the fact that I’m not about to one-night-stand my best friend’s kid sister, but a girl like Rose—as much fun as we might have—I couldn’t give her more.

And I’m one hundred percent sure she wouldn’t either.

I don’t need another woman changing her mind.

But, man, if it didn’t shock the hell out of me to see the hurt in her eyes when I said those three words.

Had she been hoping?

I don’t really think her run-ins with me were on purpose. The flush in her cheeks is too real for them to be premeditated.

But fuck if I can’t shake the feeling of her in my arms. Her breath on my skin. It’s like a flame, a rush of pure fire.

It’s bad enough that I’ve pushed some limits with my self- control lately. But knowing she feels it too—that’s a disaster waiting to happen.

On all fronts.

After the evening checks, I take a ride with Tuscan along the river as the sun sets on Saturday. My eyes scan the amber fields for stray cattle or broken lampposts. I’m only half certain I’m paying attention to either. My mind’s been on this mystery man that stopped by yesterday.

And what the hell he wants with my brother.

Still can’t shake the feeling he’ll be back.

Stepping in through the back door, I find Dallas and Dad in the kitchen, the smell of fried onions and ground beef filling the air. Dallas is at the stove, and I can tell from the way Dad’s sitting back and watching, he’d come over to drag his grieving son out of bed.

“Dad.” I nod curtly and he lifts his chin in response.

“Land looks good tonight,” he starts, but he can’t end the compliment there. “Check that south gate?”

“I did,” I answer flatly, taking my hat off and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Smells good.”

Dallas swings his head back. “We’ll see if tastes good. Hungry? I’m making meatloaf.” He cocks his head back. “Dad’s way.”

I roll my eyes. “With soy sauce?”

“Didn’t hear you boys complainin’ when you were eatin’ at my house.”

I grab a beer from the fridge, peeking over at my brother as he layers on the sauce.

“I invited Wesley, but he’s having dinner with Rose over at the cottage,” Dallas says, pouring the sauce over the dish and sliding it back in the oven to heat up.

“That’s nice. They didn’t really get to spend much time together all week.”

“Hear you got her staying at the cottage,” Dad comments.

Dallas calls over his shoulder. “How’s she liking it over there?”

I know better than to tell him she’s only been there one night. There’s no reason to bring up Millie right now.

“What’s not to like?”

Dallas doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls on a batch of scallions and slices. His eyes and breath even, measured, like he’s trying to hold it together.

And I suppose now’s as good a time as ever to change the subject.

“Someone came by for you yesterday.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. He didn’t leave a name. Was a little cryptic, honestly. Came by the main office asking for you. Any idea?”

“What’d he look like?” Dad asks.

“About your age. Nothing threatening about him. Was relatively polite.”

Dallas shrugs like he’s not in the mood. “I don’t know. Customer? Competitor?”

“No. This was personal. That much I can tell.”

Impatiently, he meets my eyes. “Well then, why the hell should I know more than you?”

“I’m asking if you got into some trouble lately? Maybe something you were too drunk to remember. Bar owner perhaps?”

Not that this guy looked like he owned much of anything. And he certainly didn’t come looking like he was trying to even the score.

Plus, I don’t see Dallas—even in a drunken state—pouncing on a guy twenty years older than him.

Dallas runs a hand over his face. “If he comes by again, send him over to the house.”

“This house?” Dad starts with a firm glare at his oldest son. “Or the one you been buildin’ and abandoned?” It’s that no-nonsense, weathered tone we all recognize. One that hasn’t changed since he started teaching us about responsibility, loyalty, and values.

With a breath, I sit back in my chair.

“Not this again,” Dallas grunts and turns to check on the meatloaf.

Dad glances at me, a subtle look that tells me he knows what he’s going through. “I walked that line myself, Dal. But after your mom passed, I still had to get up every damn morning—hard as might’ve been—and do right by everyone countin’ on me.”

My chest tightens. Dad’s not known for his warmth, but he’s not wrong. There’s a lot riding on Dallas getting back out there. Our staff, the stock, the land—hell, even his old self—all counting on him.

I don’t add myself to that category.

Because as much as I need my brother back too, there was a time not long ago when he thought he’d be running this place on his own—while I had my head out in the clouds.

So while I haven’t been entirely patient—I’ve been quiet.

My brother perks a brow. “Look, I don’t owe anyone money. I didn’t punch some old guy, and I certainly don’t go anywhere but Bones to drink. Whoever it is will go away eventually.”

“Think the Callahans are involved?”

“Said the guy looked non-threatening?” Dad asks. “Then no.”

“Well, I didn’t like it.” I sit up and turn to Dallas. “I don’t like knowing someone is out there looking for you.”

“Yeah, why?”

“What if you go missing? How do I know who to kill?”

He smirks. “I can take care of myself.”

That used to be true.

He could take care of himself, me and Silas back in the day. Our younger brother hardly hung around us. Always preferred the town jocks rather than shooting the shit in the barn. Still, Dallas always knew his whereabouts, who he surrounded himself with and made sure he was alright.

Always the sound one. The one who told me not to trust Bonnie.

The one who was first to forgive me for turning my back on everyone.

“Fine.” I set my beer down. “What do you want me to do if he comes back?”

“Tell him to leave. Anyone I need to know, knows how to reach me.” He plates our dinner. “You two about done? Cause I’m ready to eat.”

Dad and I exchange a worried glance. I nod and push off my chair to help. “Yeah, why not.”

Sometime later after Dad leaves, Dallas calls it a night early. Every Saturday night, he and Millie would be out doing something.

Dancing, mingling, riding, anything. Millie hated staying in.

Dallas hated going out. He’s a lot like me. I don’t people well. I put on a smile for tour groups and the events we hold here at the ranch, but I like a quiet night.

Although tonight .?.?. a distraction wouldn’t hurt. Anything to keep me from taking a short ride to see if the lights are on in the cottage.

They were last night. Pretty late in fact.

It’s no wonder the girl’s never on time in the morning. Picking up the phone, I text my best friend.

Wilder: Wanna grab a beer?

Wesley: Was just about to text you. Silas is in town with a few of his teammates. Wanna join us?

The fact that I didn’t know my little brother is in town and Wes does, gets under my skin. But I don’t press on it because I know why Silas didn’t tell me he was coming. The last few times he was here, Dallas had been a mess and I was busy prepping for the season.

Silas doesn’t think like we do. All he knows is hockey, girls, and staying young and pretty forever. Serious matters like the death of a loved one and running a family business are far from his radar.

Wilder: Sounds fun. You bring your sister with you?

I imagine the question is viable. Warranted even. I’m curious if my new employee is getting her fill of the town.

Wesley: I asked. Said she’s tired and going to call it a night early.

Red flags go off in my head.

Wilder: Sounds like something I should do. You boys have fun. Tell Silas I’ll call him tomorrow.

Monday night Rose went out after eleven and joined the guys for a bonfire. Tuesday, I found her at Bones about to get in the crossfire of a bar fight.

Then last night, her light was on until after one in the morning.

There’s no way Rose is calling it a night at ten o’clock on a Saturday.

But at the same time, I’m relieved she’s not going out with Silas’s friends.

I let Dallas know I’m stepping out for a bit and don’t wait for him to respond.

Hopping on my horse, I casually ride in the direction of the cottage. From this distance, I can see dim lights are on in the living room.

This is ridiculous. What am I doing?

This is borderline stalking.

No. This is stalking. I’m basically going to confirm if she’s home, when Rose is an adult. She’s got every right to leave the premises.

Sure, the idea of her out in the town by herself sends my protective streak out of control, but it’s still not my business.

She’s my employee and currently not on the clock.

I’m about to turn around when I see a body walking along the path toward the main office.

I ride closer, and he slows down when he spots me. “Hey, boss.”

I frown. “Jake?”

He salutes me.

“Everything all right?”

“Sure is. Just did a few checks while I was out. Dropped off Rose’s cart a little while ago. She looked very nice.”

“Rose’s cart?”

“Ginger said you asked me to change up the tires with something more durable. Figure she’s going to take it through town.”

I growl. “I never said that.”

His eyes are wide. “But—”

“It’s fine.” I hop off the horse. “Will you do me a favor? Take Tuscan back to the stables for me?”

“Sure thing.”

Minutes later, I’m in my truck, pulling up to the cottage.

The cart’s nowhere in sight. I jog up the steps, banging on the door. No answer. There’s no one inside.

Then I remember something Jake mentioned.

She looked very nice.

What’s this girl gotten into now?

I try to convince myself that this is Wesley’s sister I’m protective over. And that there’s no point in ruining his night. I try to convince myself that she now stole parts of my property for her joy ride and I have every right to be the one to go after her myself.

But even I know it’s more than that.

Gripping the wheel, I race out the gate of the ranch and onto the streets of my small town.

Deliberately reminding myself it’s small .

It should be easy to spot a flower-painted golf cart in town, shouldn’t it?

A sensible man would call her brother to give him a heads up.

A sensible sane man wouldn’t be freaking out about what kind of trouble she might get herself into that Dallas and I can’t save her from.

A sensible, loyal to his best friend, man wouldn’t have been relieved knowing she turned down hanging out with a bunch of professional hockey players.

The glow of streetlights casts long shadows on the ground as I make my way through town, my eyes scanning over every corner.

The diner lot, gas station, even the closed shopping strip. All before reaching the street where Bones is.

No Rose-branded golf cart here.

Hell, not even a plain old golf cart to give me false hope.

My frustration is mounting.

She doesn’t belong out here—not alone, not at this hour. Rose doesn’t know the kind of fast trouble that could show up.

Driving down another block, I finally spot the open, white hooded vehicle. I race toward it, relieved at the unmistakable, caught-red-handed sign.

The Rose .

“Damn stubborn woman,” I growl and park my truck at the first empty spot, ready to go door to door.

I look up at the awnings.

This can’t be right. The only thing open is an old strip club that shut down ages ago and now only opens for traveling events.

I walk inside like I belong, ignoring the hostess at the front. It’s dim, almost too dark, with small round tables and candles filling the room. There must be twenty of them.

The hell is going on here?

Whatever trouble is stirring up here, Rose is sipping on it like it’s her favorite drink.

She’s sitting at one of the tables, talking to some guy.

She’s smiling, her face glowing in the tiny flame.

While mine burns with a new kind of heat, leaving a bitterness in my chest.

“Hi there. Are you signed up for this evening?”

I turn, my eyes dropping to the short woman. She scans me slowly. “Ooh .?.?. maybe I should have too.”

“Excuse me? No, I’m not signed up for anything.” I turn my focus back to Rose.

“Well, you’re in luck; we had a no-show today so we’re odd. Go right in.”

“Odd? What is this?”

“A place to find your one true love. Or your one true Saturday night, whatever floats your boat.” She gives me a push. “Start with table six.”

I look up with my jaw tight, watching Rose as another man approaches her table.

Speed - dating?

You have got to be kidding me.

“I’ll wait for table nine, thanks,” I grit.

Following my gaze, the woman grins. “Nice choice, but that’s not how this works. Table six or you can leave.”

I grunt and slip her a bill. “Bring me a whiskey when I get to table nine.”