Page 46 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Wilder

“Looks good, Larry,” I comment, giving the fence a good nudge. We had to move the cattle to the smaller pasture for a few days till the fence was repaired.

He tips his hat.

“Listen, I know you’re off this weekend, but we’re a little short-staffed. You mind doing a shift?”

“Happy to. Just let me know where you need me, Wilder.”

I thank him and I separately want to thank Rose too. She spent all of last week manipulating the schedule, overtime, and budget so that we’re covered through the summer.

She emailed me the final schedule yesterday and sent someone to the Saddle Room with a hard copy.

It’s organized, color coded, and gives me some kind of reassurance that we can pull this off until the season is over.

Assuming no one else leaves.

It’s early Tuesday morning. Two whole days have passed and I’m not any more ready to talk to Rose than I was when I walked out.

I took Tuscan out for a ride these last two nights, running by the cottage. OK, maybe not running by. More like waiting. Waiting with my heart in my throat until the lights went out.

And even then, it was tough to leave.

After an easy ride along the river, checking the fields, I find myself steering Tuscan back in her direction. The ache in my chest has nothing to do with the land. Or the work, for that matter.

It’s the woman the stubborn part of me is slowly letting go.

How could she be so reckless? How could I be so reckless?

I fell hard for a woman who, in every reality—was never mine to keep.

This is who Rose is. She pushes boundaries, rides the edges like she’s got nothing to lose. Strips naked for strangers like it’s part of her road to self-discovery.

The anger is still fresh.

Her wildness had a spark that lit me up. I thought her unpredictability would bother me, but I lived for it.

I lived to keep her safe through it instead of controlling it.

Seeing those photos, as innocent as her gullible little heart thought they were, made me see that she’s not thinking straight.

She’s on some road that I can’t follow. A road I might not have a place for down the line.

And that’s the part that scares me.

My phone dings with a message, and I hope it’s one from Wes. I’ve been trying him all day, yesterday and Sunday.

I swipe the screen.

Rose: Can we please talk tonight?

Rose: I know I didn’t say much the other day. It just all happened so quickly.

Rose: I know I can fix this.

That last one makes my heart ache for her. I’m going to have to talk to her eventually. But I just need one more day.

One day to make sense of my doubts. It’s been hard.

Because every time I try to explain it to myself, I hear her in my mind. Telling me how ridiculous I am for not seeing she’s crazy about me too.

It’s mid-afternoon when I get another one from her.

Rose: Can I leave early today?

I type out a response that basically says to ask Ginger, since I’ve left her in charge of Rose. But it’s a dick response. One she doesn’t deserve.

Wilder: Yes.

I’m tempted to follow it with a question asking why, but I think better of it.

I spend the rest of the afternoon making a few calls and feel somewhat productive.

The door to the Saddle Room swings open without a knock. Dallas stalks over to me, hands shuffling through some cards. “Pink, purple, or rose?”

I blink. “What?”

“I mean the color.”

I shake my head. “This for Ellie’s room?”

“Well, it’s not for mine.”

I sigh. “Why don’t you ask Ellie?”

“And look like I’m clueless?”

I glare at him, hoping it answers his rhetorical question.

Then I sigh. “Pink.”

He nods then tosses the swatches to the side. “Figured I’d find you in here, sulking.”

“What do you mean?” I haven’t told him about Rose.

“Got a pretty angry call from Wes the other day, asking me if I knew what was going on with you and his sister.”

“Sorry,” I grumble. Probably should have warned him.

Dallas leans back in his chair. “I’ve never been more afraid of another man in my life.”

I chuckle. “Wish I could’ve seen it.” I reach for a stack of old invoices that don’t need my attention. “Not sulking. I’m working.”

“You’re hiding. And seein’ as how Ginger is giving Rose busy work in the front office, I take it you ended it.”

I shake my head, avoiding eye contact.

“Can I ask why her brother finding out about you two made you walk out on her?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He stands. “Well, I know better than to try to get anything out of you when you’re like this.”

“Where you going?”

“Pick up Rose. Got to put good talent to useful work.”

“Leave her alone. She’s leaving early today,” I snap.

He grins. “I know.” He tips his head. “Said she’s got ideas for Ellie’s room. We’re going to go to the hardware store, then back to the new house. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

I shrug as my teeth clench and my heart sinks. “She’s as much your employee as she is mine. But if she falls off any ladders, I’ll personally break every bone in your body.”

He stands, lifting his black hat off the table. “Ladders. Good one. Better than that B.S. story about Rose’s arm you told her brother.”

My eyes snap to his. “What do you know about that?”

“I know you were lying. Those scars weren’t fresh. Noticed them that night she took care of mine.”

I lower my gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

At the end of the day Wednesday, I stop at The Shack to talk to Wes.

I haven’t been able to get over the things those two said to each other outside. How he’d never taken the time to listen to her.

How much she needs him to.

We’re not quite closed yet, but it’s the end of the day and he’s usually the last one here, taking inventory and working on the menu.

As expected, I find him behind the bar, closing out the register. He eyes me as I lock the door and flip the sign on the door to Closed.

“Can we talk?”

He glances at the sign. “Doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a choice, boss.”

“I’m not here as your boss. I never am. Just want to make sure we’re not interrupted.”

He scoffs. “Explains all the locks on Rose’s door.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I snap.

He jerks at my tone. And I’m not sorry for it because he doesn’t know why I put them there.

And he needs to.

“Look, I know you’re not ready to talk to me or even see me. And I know from experience, you don’t forgive easily.”

Wesley’s jaw locks, muscles flexing as he remains behind the bar.

“But I need you to talk to Rose.”

I miss saying her name. Miss calling her Blue . The nickname reminds me of the time she tried to get a reaction out of me for vandalizing my cart. And all I saw was that bright blue smudge on her right cheek.

He turns his chin to the side at the mention of her name. And I’m damn sure it’s the memory of her calling him out—and then shutting him out.

Something hard hits my chest but I push it aside to focus on what matters here. And that’s my best friend’s relationship with his sister. “You said her flight is Saturday and not to miss it.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You really want to find out what happens after she gets on that plane? Are you that unafraid that you’re willing to let her go back without talking to her?”

My gut twists at my own words.

He slams the register. “This town not big enough for you or something? Not enough women throwing themselves at you?”

I don’t know what Wesley sees, but women don’t throw themselves at me. “Think you’re confusing me with Silas.”

He rolls his eyes and maybe I’ll give him that. I haven’t had a problem getting a date for a night here and there since Bonnie.

But that’s all they’ve been. Sometime in the last three years I stopped seeing the women I’m with as who they are. I only see Bonnie.

No. I only see what Bonnie did .

And no one was worth trying something more with. Until Rose.

“This ain’t about me or our friendship.” He scoffs. “It never was.”

“Make her talk, Wes,” I shout impatiently. “And take the time to listen. You might lose her if you don’t.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at me. “Do you know something I don’t?”

I don’t deny it. “I’ve known you for over ten years. Trust me when I say this is the best advice you’ll ever get from me. Don’t fuck it up.”