Page 16 of Duke
Hard Truths
Wheeler
I try my level bestnotto run into the handsome cowboy I can’t stop thinking about in the weeks and months that follow Mollie and Cash’s engagement in November.
It’s easier than I thought it would be. The cowboys start their day early—like, four a.m. early—and are out with the herd until the sun sets. I stay in a bedroom at the New House, the six-thousand-square-foot main residence Mollie’s parents built on the ranch twenty or so years ago.
No one lives at the house now—Mollie and Cash prefer his cabin on the property—but it’s become the ranch’s unofficial gathering place, and it’s where visitors like me typically stay. Mollie and I set up a temporary office for Bellamy Brooks in the house’s enormous primary suite, complete with gorgeous views of the ranch. Meanwhile, the cowboys live in houses and cabins across the property.
It takes her and I a bit to figure out our new groove now that we split our time between Hartsville and Dallas. Before she inherited Lucky River Ranch, she and I used the spare bedroom in her Dallas high-rise condo as our office/Bellamy Brooks’s headquarters. We turned it into what we dubbed “the Closet,” lining three walls with metal shelves that we used to display our growing collection of boots. On the fourth wall, we hung two huge corkboards above our desks that we crowded with bits of inspiration—fabric swatches, Pantone color palettes, clippings fromVogueandGarden & Gun.
Up until this point, we’ve worked pretty much twenty-four seven. There’s no such thing as time off when you’re an entrepreneur, especially when your company has yet to turn a profit.
But now Mollie has a sprawling ranch to run. She also has acres and acres of vacant land at her disposal, not to mention the money from the trust fund she’s finally able to access. She’s got a wedding to plan too—she and Cash are eager to tie the knot in a small but exquisite ceremony here on the ranch.
All this is to say she’s spending less time working at Bellamy Brooks, and I’m working more.
A lot more.
Not like I mind, because our company has finally turned a corner. We’re making real money, our social media is on fire, and it looks like thatEllefeature might actually happen.
It doesn’t take Mollie long to decide to build us a second headquarters and studio in Hartsville. As a surprise, Cash picks a spectacular spot on the ranch for the new studio: a high ridge with the most dramatic views of the Colorado River and the soaring canyons beyond. Construction begins two months after my first visit to Hartsville.
I was born and raised in the suburbs of Dallas, so I’m a little taken aback by how much I enjoy being on the ranch. It’s a nice change of pace from the smog-choked traffic of the city.
I also hate working alone, so I try to be with Mollie as much as possible. I end up spending two weeks in Dallas for every one week I spend in Hartsville. It’s not perfect, but it works.
Patsy turns out three gorgeous meals a day in the massive kitchen, where everyone sits around the old pine farm table to eat. That’s when I see Duke the most. The man never misses a meal.
He also never misses an opportunity to say hi. He always seeks me out, making sure I get enough to eat or that my tea isrefilled when my glass is empty. It’s sweet, which makes keeping my distance that much harder.
It’s also a constant reminder of what I could have but am too scared to allow myself to explore.
When I’m rooting around the pantry after I drive in from Dallas one day, I hear the boys enter the kitchen from the back door.
“Do me a favor, would you?” Cash asks.
My stomach flips when I hear Duke reply, “What’s that?”
“For the love of God, can youpleasestop staring at Wheeler like a lovesick creeper? If she wants to be left alone, leave her the fuck alone.”
I nearly drop the packet of Goldfish I’m holding. Patsy stocks the crackers for Ella, but like the other adults in the house, I partake in the snack more often than I’d like to admit. They’re just so damn good.
I don’t dare to so much as breathe. Instead I put a hand on the nearby shelf and listen, heart drumming in my throat.
A pause. Then: “Not to put too fine a point on it. Jesus, Cash. I don’t stare at her. I just—”
“Undress her with your eyes?” Wyatt asks.
“Talk about her like that again and see what happens.” The threatening rumble of Duke’s voice draws my nipples to tight, overly sensitive points. “I’m only making sure our guest is taken care of. Don’t want her to go hungry. Or thirsty.”
Duke can be so damn sweet.
Something that’s not sweet? The memory of Dad looking me in the eye and saying, “You keep being so damn difficult and nasty, no one’s ever going to want you. Men don’t like nasty women, so I suggest you keep your big mouth shut.”
Even now, shame settles like a weight in my gut. I think I’d called him out for being a chauvinist at the dinner table after he demanded “the best slice of meat” because he was “the manof the house.” Mom looked miserable as she pushed the food around her plate, but she didn’t come to my defense.
No one did. Preston was too much of a jerk, even then. And my younger brother, Haines, was too little to say anything.
