Page 84 of The Wrong Ride Home

“Don’t kid a kidder, darlin’. He’s the man who broke your heart, darlin’, and I get the feelin’ he wants to mend it?” Maverick asked somberly.

I took another pull of my beer. “More like ground my heart into dust.”

“Maybe. But he wants you back, that’s pretty much for certain.”

“He’s marrying the bitch in high heels.”

Mav’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked his chin. “Thatbitch?”

I followed his line of vision, and wouldn’t you have it, Miss Four-Inch Heels was dressed cowboy chic and walked to stand in between Duke and Kaz, looking as bright as a daisy while I’d just been riding and looked like hell and smelled like…well, a horse.

“Yeah.”

“No." Maverick shook his head. “I don’t think he wants her. She wants him, though, and she wantsyouto see her with him.”

“You know I hate love triangles.”

“I want to test a theory,” Maverick said thoughtfully and leaned his face close to mine.

I pushed him away. “Cut it out. You pull a stunt like that here and your theory is going to have half the women in the county hating my guts thinking I’m fucking you. Already, the other half hate me because they think I’m fucking Hunt.”

“Considering you’re nailing half the male population in Wildflower Canyon, it’s a surprise you get any work done,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes. “How did we get from two men, you and Hunt, to half the male population?”

“I’m just tellin’ you what the gossip mongers are gonna be sayin’ tomorrow.”

I looked at my watch. “I gotta go. I have a new colt in the cutting.”

“Me too.” Maverick set his empty beer bottle on the counter and waved a ten-dollar bill at the bartender, who nodded when he tucked the money under the bottle.

We walked out of the beer tent.

I could feel Duke’s eyes on me. The man needed to give it a rest. He was with his soon-to-be-wife, and he was staring daggers at me because I was having a drink with a friend?

Maverick and I strolled up to the arena where the cutting was underway. I propped my arms on the rail, watching as Dixie May, one of ours from Wilder Ranch, worked the cow like she was born for it. Quick and clean, sharp as a Bowie knife, never taking hereye off that critter. Hell of a horse—the kind that made a rider look better than they probably were.

"Not bad," Maverick admitted.

I chuckled. "High praise coming from you."

I felt eyes on me.

Duke.Again.

He was standing near the grandstands, arms crossed, watching me.

“I think they might call that stalking,” Maverick noted.

I sighed. “Can we just focus on my horse?”

“She for sale?”

“Everything on Wilder Ranch is for sale, and it’s breaking my damn heart. Copper, Whiskey…I mean…fuck!”

“I’ll buy them both.”

I put a hand on Maverick’s arm. “You can’t buy horses because of me.”

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