Page 5 of The Wrong Ride Home

Hunt shook his head. “You’re an asshole, Duke; you know that, don’t you?”

“You’re not the first one to accuse me of being one.”

“Since you’re clearly not listening to me abouther, let me make somethin’ clear to you. I’ll be packin’ my bags along with Elena and getting the hell out of here.”

“Damn it, Hunt, I?—”

“Nope.” Hunt raised a hand to silence me. “You need to get your head out of your ass. She’snotthe problem. Got it?”

Didn’t I just?Son of a motherfucking bitch! I’d barely been here, and she was already twisting me up.

“With her, it’s reflex,” I confessed wearily and then added, “I’ll work on it.”

Hunt cocked an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “Since you’re both so close, she must’ve told you what went down ten years ago.”

I rose and went around the desk to the cabinet built into the far wall, where I remembered my father kept his liquor. Not out in the open—Nash Wilder had never been careless—but behind a heavy paneled door, tucked between stacks of old ranch ledgers and a rusted tin where he kept spare bullets.

I pulled the cabinet door open, the hinges creaking, and found the familiar row of bottles inside. Bourbon, mostly. A half-drunk bottle of Nash’s favorite, the label worn from years of handling. It was early, not even noon, but I needed a drink.

I poured a glass, and when Hunt nodded, I poured him one, too.

“To Nash,” he toasted, and I joined him.

Regardless of how much the old man pissed me off, he was my father, and I regretted not coming to see him before he died. I regretted protecting my mother, who was fragile as hell when it came to the ranch and my father. She’d begged and pleaded with me not to see my father—and she’d insinuated in more ways than one that if I did, she couldn’t be blamed for breaking down, which was code for her hurting herself.

But you know what they said about regret?It’s like a stray bullet—don’t matter if you saw it coming, it’ll gut you just the same.

We sat back, me on one side of my father’s desk and he on the other.

He cradled his glass in his hands and finally looked up at me. “Elena never told me…anything. I got some of it from Maria, but she….”

“She what?” I queried.

He shrugged. “Maria toed the line for Nash. And your daddy had a problem with Elena a mile long. No matter what she did, and she fuckin’ did everythin’ for him, especially after Maria passed, he blamed her for you not being at the ranch.”

Something inside me twisted at that. “I wasn’t here ‘cause of him.”

“You know your daddy, Duke, and he’d never take the blame for anythin’ if he could shift it onto someone else.”

“Maria died three years ago. Why is Elena still here?” I knew she wouldn’t have left her mother, especially not after she’d been diagnosed with cancer.

“Why do you think?”

“I have no Goddamn clue.” I downed the rest of the bourbon and felt the heat scorch through me, making me feel a little numb. A few more, and I’d be blissfully so!

“Elena promised her mother she’d take care of Nash. So, she stayed.” Hunt then looked at his watch and sighed. “I better go up to the bunkhouse and see how far Elena has gotten packin’ up. Hopefully, not too far. I told Ben to stall her if she came rushing back, ready to get the fuck outta here.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You sayin’ you expected me to kick her out.”

“Yeah, Duke, I did.”

I scoffed, “How do you know me so well?”

“’Cause I knew your daddy,” he explained, and that didn’t make me feel good at all, not one fucking single bit. I hated that I was behaving like Nash.

“Elena, if fucking your mother is as good as fuckin’ you, I can understand why my father couldn’t let Maria go. Tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

---