Page 33 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Rose

I smile as I watch Wilder sleep, still processing that we’re lying here together. In a bed that’s only temporarily mine.

In a town I’m only staying in for a few more weeks. I swallow hard. He’s going to tell Wesley.

I tried to play it off that I don’t care. That I’m as carefree and wild as everyone thinks I am.

But I’m scared.

I cherish my relationship with my brother. And despite him not trusting my decisions—which is my fault—I can’t bear his disappointment.

But Wilder was adamant about telling him. And I’d never let someone bear a secret the way I am.

It’s not fair.

It’s dawn. The first light in the sky before the sunrise. I can’t remember when I’ve been up this early.

I set my alarm, but it didn’t have a chance to go off. I’ve been up for over an hour.

I knocked out before the movie ended last night. I had two glasses of wine. Wilder had one.

I was hoping to use the extra time we had to get to know him better. Who knows? He might’ve even opened up about Bonnie and why he hasn’t truly moved on.

This cowboy may be single, but it doesn’t mean he’s available. Wilder is so closed off, a bull couldn’t break through his walls.

He’s closed off about his family too. He’s angry with Dallas but doesn’t talk about it. And he’s never mentioned a word about his mother.

I only got insight on that from Mr. Thorne.

Something claws at my heart and warning bells go off.

Why should he open up to me? After this short weekend, we’re back to being boss and employee.

Well, Boss .?.?. I’m not going to be late today. I wash up and dress quietly, peeking out the window for Randy. No sign of him yet.

Cripes, it doesn’t look good out there.

No worries, a little mud doesn’t scare me. Heck, I breathe in worse toxins in some of those old train stations in the city.

The real downer of my day ahead? Which boots to wear. The cute ankle boots I brought from New York?

Or the ones Wilder’s dad bought me.

I groan . I don’t suppose barefoot is an option today?

“You going somewhere?” His voice is rough and sexy.

“Morning. I’m going to work. But you take your time. Need that beauty rest, Superman with a cowboy hat.” I wink.

He sits up, confused. “Rose, it’s Sunday. Get back in here.”

“You forget? Randy’s picking me up in a few minutes. He’s supposed to supervise me picking rocks from the pastures or something.”

He glares at me as if this weren’t his idea. “Like hell you are.”

“Wilder.”

“Rose, the fields are wet and muddy. No goddamn way you’re doing any of that now.”

I cross my arms. “Are you lifting the punishment from everyone?”

“Fuck no. Rules were broken and you all went against—” His jaw clenches.

I put my hand on my hips and cock my head at him.

He exhales, keeping his anger in check. “But I will if that’s what it takes.”

“You can’t do that. It would be out of character for you, and they’ll put two and two together.”

When the doorbell rings, he hurries out of bed and throws on his jeans.

“That’s Randy.”

“Rose, you’re not going anywhere with him. The guy’s an ass, and I don’t trust him around you. I don’t trust him period.”

“You ordered him to have me do this today.”

He reaches for his phone. “Well, I’m calling it off.”

“Will you stop?”

“Rose, he threw you under the bus when he talked to your brother.”

I take a deep breath. He’s not letting me out of this because we slept together. I don’t want the special treatment.

And .?.?. I might have a thing for getting him all riled up when it comes to me.

But mostly, I don’t want Wilder thinking I can’t handle myself out there.

I’m kind of curious if I can.

I reach up and kiss his lips. “Thank you for this weekend. And for looking out for me. But I’ve got this.”

He’s about to argue, but I shush him. “Quiet down. He’ll hear you.”

He growls in frustration and scans me head to toe. I decided on my burgundy boots from home. “You can’t go like that. You’ll get dirty.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I hate this. I’m only punishing myself here.”

“I’ve got to go.”

He quits pacing and grips my face. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

“Please don’t,” I groan. “I don’t imagine it’ll be a pretty sight. Just go check on Dallas and do whatever else you boys do after it rains.”

He sighs. “Then promise you’ll take it easy. Remember, the guys are finishing whatever you don’t.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I remember.”

He lets me go, reluctantly, and I have to push him out of sight before I open the door.

Randy’s lip curls up. “Ready to get dirty, doll face?”

My eyes widen and I race out, shutting the door before Wilder’s temper kicks in. “Don’t call me doll face.”

“Don’t get feisty. Have your coffee this morning?” Dammit. Knew I forgot something. But there’s no way I’m opening that door now. I’m not sure Wilder will let me leave again. “No.”

“Me neither. Let’s grab some. Hop on.” He’s got a tractor and I’m relieved to not be taking the cart. I can already see myself getting the wheels stuck in the mud somewhere.

My stomach sinks at leaving Wilder so mad this morning. I have no doubt that this weekend was all we’ll have, and I didn’t want to end it like that.

We grab a quick bite and a coffee to go from The Shack—which is empty for the most part—then head to work.

“I better be getting paid overtime for this shit,” Randy mutters, making me wonder what possessed Wilder to hire him or even keep him around when he’s such a jerk.

I ignore him and finish my coffee on the short ride.

“The other guys are clearing the south pasture for you now. It’s small—nothing you can’t handle. Barry and Nelson will handle the east pasture, that one’s pretty wide. We’ve already moved most of the cattle inside.”

“I want the bigger one,” I say firmly, suddenly feeling like my early therapy days, when Sandra would “go slow” with me, like I’d break into pieces at any moment.

Or when Wesley insisted I couldn’t handle the reality of city living.

I’m not weak.

Just a little flawed.

He glances over at me with a perked brow. “You trying to prove something?”

“Well, you told my brother I’m the reason we got caught, didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes at him.

He turns back to the road, leaving my accusation unanswered.

“It’s only fair if I take the bigger one.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Words are just flying out of my mouth. Words I think prove—to no one of importance—that I can handle anything.

“If you say so,” he says like he’s going to get a kick out of today.

A few minutes later, I follow Randy out of the equipment shed and onto the expanse of the north pasture.

He hands me a silver bucket. “So what am I doing?” I ask.

“Stone pickin’,” he says, as if that means anything to me.

I frown at the empty field. Which ones? How many? I don’t see any stones.

As if reading my mind, Randy nudges the toe of his boot against the dirt, exposing a half-buried rock. “See all these?” He sweeps his arm over the field.

I squint against the sun and see them—rocks of all sizes peppering the dirt like they emerged overnight.

I twist to look back at him. “And we just .?.?. pick them up?”

He laughs, and I realize I really don’t like his laugh.

It’s creepy and condescending. “That’s the gist of it.

Keeps the pasture safe for the cattle, keeps the tractors from bustin’ up.

” He bends, lifts a rock the size of a dollar coin, and tosses it in the bucket.

I jerk from the sound. “Think you can handle that?”

I look at my hands.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll get you some gloves.”

I sigh, ignoring the comment and crouch down. “I’ll pass on those, thanks.” I can only imagine how many hands have been in those gloves.

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll get you the gloves.”

I don’t wait for him to return from the shed before wrapping my fingers around a rough-edged stone. Damp—but not quite muddy—dirt coats my palms. Lifting it, I toss it in the bucket.

By the tenth rock, my skin is already generously covered and I can see what Wilder meant. It’s too wet for this today.

Fantastic.

Randy’s sneer comes from behind me. “Ain’t so bad, now, is it?”

I brush the dirt from my hands onto my bare knees. “Not yet.”

He grins, sweeping his eyes over the enclosed field. “Give it a couple hours.” Then he tips his hat. “Back in a little while. Going to check on the other two in their smaller pasture.”

Three hours in and my back hurts. No, it doesn’t hurt, it burns. The kind of burn you feel after an extensive workout. An extensive workout in dry heat.

I was thankful for my pink cowboy hat Ginger gave me, keeping my head protected from the sun. That is, until it fell in the dirt an hour ago. And I’m not about to put that thing back over my hair. Not that it would matter since I’m gross everywhere.

Sweat trickles down my spine, making my shirt stick to me like a second skin. The sun beats down ruthlessly on my neck.

I caught myself whimpering like a spoiled city girl a few times and quickly cut that shit out. I’m not cowering out of this.

My fingers are raw and I’ve filled three buckets’ worth so far.

“Not bad,” Randy calls, hopping off a horse.

“I thought you were helping,” I whine.

He picks up my hat from the ground a few feet away and strolls over, dropping it over my head.

“There. I helped.”

“Jerk,” I grumble a little too loudly.

On the way back to his horse, he knocks over one of my filled buckets, spilling the rocks back on the ground.

My stomach boils.

“My bad.”

I wince. “I don’t suppose you want to pick that up?”

“Oh sweetheart, I would but I—”

“You what?” My heart leaps when I see the cowboy pull up on a beautiful horse I haven’t seen yet.

Randy turns, hands still on the reins of his horse. “Dallas.”

He looks good. He’s shaved since I saw him last. Less pale and more .?.?. alert? Present?

I straighten, rolling my shoulders as if it will help my appearance.

“What’s going on here?” Dallas sweeps his gaze over me, and I’m just glad it’s not Wilder seeing me like this.