Page 106 of The Wrong Ride Home

The air smelled like rain and thawing earth. April had crept in softly and slowly. The chill lingered in the mornings, but the afternoons were warm enough that I could feel the promise of summer. The pastures were turning green again, and the rivers were running strong with mountain runoff.

The season was changing, whether I was ready for it or not, much like everything else in my life.

“So, you’re not selling?” Hunt leaned back against a Ponderosa pine tree by the paddock where Ben was working the horses.

We had just finished the morning round-up when Duke asked to speak with Hunt and me. He had returned from Dallas two days ago—Fiona was nowhere to be found,andthe rumor mill was rife with speculation about why Dukewasn’tselling.

I stood next to Hunt, hands on my hips, staring out at the land that had shaped me and carved me into who Iwas. It would remain a ranch—that much was certain. But I wouldn’t be the one to stay. That had been the plan all along, the only way I knew how to move forward. So why didn’t the thought of leaving bring the relief it used to?

Since Duke came back, my feelings have been a jangled mess of past and present, anger and longing. I know I should go, but I am not sure I want to anymore.

“Yeah. I’mnotselling,” Duke confirmed and then added, “Just because I’m not selling the ranch doesn’t mean I expect you to stay. That’s your call.” His gaze landed on me, steady, unreadable. “But I want you to.”

The words pressed against the tender and raw wounds he’d caused inside me—not to irritate further but as a balm, a comfort. He wanted me to stay. Or maybe just Hunt? Yeah, that was probably it. But I didn’t believe that. The man I’d seen at the rodeo hadn’t beenthatDuke, the one who’d strutted on the ranch with his girlfriend…this man, like the one who’d confronted me in the makeshift office, was Duke Wilder, Nash’s son.

I swallowed, glancing at Hunt, who was stillverycarefully watching Duke. Finally, he asked what we both wanted to ask, “What’s the plan?”

“We keep doing what we’re doing. I will sell my place in Dallas and move here.”

“Your lady moving with you?” Hunt asked pointedly.

Duke looked amused. “Hunt, you made sure she was gone from the ranch house, so you know the answer to that.”

“I wasn’t sureshedid.” He tilted his head toward me.

“And why would I care?” I lied.

Hunt snorted. “You need to tell the hands. They’ve been worrying, looking for jobs.

Duke blew out a breath, setting his jaw. “I’ll announce it at dinner.”

Hunt nodded slowly like he was weighing his options. Then he turned to me. “You good with all this?”

“Yeah.”

“You stayin’?” he asked.

I hesitated, kicking at the dirt with the toe of my boot. “I don’t know.”

Duke’s jaw tightened. “Fair enough.”

The three of us stood there, the silence stretching. The only sound was the wind moving through the trees, the distant low of cattle, and the rustling of horses shifting in their stalls.

Spring was coming. Change was coming. And whether I stayed or not, nothing was going to be the same.

“Why did you change your mind?” I asked. I needed to know.

Duke looked at Hunt and then at me. “Two reasons. One, I wanted to do right by Dad.”

He didn’t call him Nash, I noted.

“Second, I want you.”

I gasped.

Hunt chuckled and, as he walked away, said over his shoulder, “I gotta go talk to a horse about a man.”

I looked at Duke as he tucked his hands into his pockets.He rocked on the heels of his boots, waiting for me to say…dosomething.

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