Chapter 6
Road Trips in Rent-a-Trucks
Duke
April
“No. Fucking. Way.” Hands on my hips, I look at the U-Haul and shake my head. “You are not driving this thing by yourself all the way to Colorado.”
“Watch me.” Wheeler goes up on her toes to rearrange a box in the back of the truck. “I learned to drive in my mom’s Yukon, so…”
“I bet your mom’s Yukon had power steering and automatic brakes. This thing”—I nod at the white and orange abomination parked in front of the New House—“I’m not even sure if it has brakes. Or heat.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Falling back on her heels, she rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t you have cowboy things to do?”
I always have cowboy things to do. But whenever Wheeler is around, I have a hard time doing them.
Hard time focusing on anything other than, well, the pretty redhead with a smart mouth and cute ass.
Which is how I ended up meandering to the driveway after lunch.
Wheeler hadn’t shown up to eat, so naturally I wandered around the house, telling myself I was just winding down after a long, boring morning with the herd.
The image of this cute little redhead driving this big ugly truck through the Rockies in April gives me heart palpitations. Who thought this was a good idea? I can’t believe Mollie is letting her do this.
A lot has changed since the girls booked this trunk show in Aspen. Mollie and Cash got married in a cute little ceremony underneath an arbor of roses in their cabin’s backyard. Then Mollie found out on their honeymoon in Australia that she was pregnant.
She’s in her second trimester now. She and the baby are healthy. But earlier this week, Mollie’s doctor put her on bed rest after she had some spotting, which means she isn’t able to travel to Colorado with Wheeler for their trunk show this weekend.
So now Wheeler, being the dedicated entrepreneur she is, is planning to go to the trunk show by herself.
“You know Wheeler,” Mollie said last night when I confronted her about the situation. “That girl is gonna do what she wants to do.”
“You need to fight her harder on this.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Reschedule the pop-up, then.”
“I’ve tried, Duke.”
It’s close to a twenty-hour drive through some pretty treacherous mountains.
I’ve driven through the Rockies several times with Garrett Luck, Mollie’s dad, who passed away last year, usually to purchase quarter horses from a ranch in Wyoming. Those roads ain’t for the faint of heart. Especially with the late-season snow they’re calling for.
I obviously can’t let her drive alone. I don’t want her to die for one thing.
For another, my heart always skips a beat at the idea of having an excuse to get the hell out of Hartsville.
Back in the fall, my brothers and I had a great fucking time in Austin for Cash’s bachelor party.
Even before we left the Texas state capital, I was itching to plan my next trip.
Really, to get out of Hartsville again.
I get that buzzing sensation at the top of my spine. Ryder. Go figure, he was right. Giving Wheeler space, biding my time, has been the right call. Because all of a sudden, I have an opportunity to finally make this girl mine and experience someplace new.
“Y’all got plenty of money now, Wheeler,” I hear myself telling her. “Why don’t you pay to ship all this shit and fly instead?”
“Because I don’t trust anyone but myself to get these boots to Aspen safely.
This pop-up is a big deal for us, Duke, and I need everything to be perfect.
Plus, this way I don’t have to fit all my outfits into one suitcase.
Faux fur takes up a lot of room.” She’s reaching inside the truck again, straining to reach the boxes on the tippy top of the stacks of boots piled inside.
Glancing up at the sky—God give me strength—I walk over to help. I reach the boxes easily, rearranging them so the stacks fit tightly inside the truck.
I’m hit by the image of her taking a sharp turn and the boxes tumbling down, shaking the truck.
She’ll jam on the brakes, and they won’t work, and she’ll be screaming as she tries to pull over, boxes thumping around in the back while she catches the lip of the road and plunges to her death off the side of a mountain.
Wow.
Wow, that was graphic. And specific. And weird.
Mostly, though, it’s terrifying.
“How many outfits are you bringing?” I manage.
“Too many. Aspen is fabulous, so I need to be fabulous too.”
She’s excited. It’s cute.
She’s really fucking cute. Goddamn, I miss talking to her. Then again, can you miss talking to someone you only really talked to once, in a bar, over the best one and a half beers you’ve ever had?
“You check the weather?” I ask.
“It’ll be fine.”
I make a harrumphing sound that makes me think of my dad. “They’re calling for snow. Big system moving onshore from the Pacific—”
“You do know Colorado is, like, two thousand miles from any ocean?”
“You indoor people with your indoor jobs. Believe me when I say it’s a mistake not to pay attention to the weather.”
Wheeler grins, her eyes dancing as she turns to look at me. “I am an indoor girl, and I’m proud of it.”
Exactly why she shouldn’t be driving this truck. Alone. To a destination eight hundred miles from here. A twenty-hour drive ain’t for the faint of heart.
“You ever driven in snow before?”
Wheeler reaches for the latch on the truck’s sliding back door. “I drove to the gym in a hailstorm once.”
I beat her to it, our hands brushing as I yank down the door. “Now you’re just trying to get me riled up.”
“Why do you let me get you riled up?”
“Because you’re an indoor girl visiting a very outdoor place, and I could never forgive myself if you were bit by a rattlesnake and died or, yeah, you drove a U-Haul full of your beautiful boots off the side of a mountain.”
“That’s dark.”
I manage a tight grin. “Just like my mood.”
“Lighten up.” She pats my chest. “I’ll be back in a few days, hopefully with an empty truck. Promise I’ll be fine.”
But you don’t know that. I need to know you’re safe.
It’s ridiculous how much I care, right? Yeah, I thought Wheeler and I really connected that night at the Rattler. Beyond that, though, we actually haven’t interacted all that much outside of group settings. We’re friendly, but would I even call us friends?
I don’t know.
All I know is there’s a good chance this girl ends up hurt—or worse—if she drives to Aspen all by herself this weekend.
There’s a good chance I won’t get another opportunity to visit a place like that anytime soon.
Wyatt will have a shit fit about me missing work. But Cash and Mollie are in lockdown here in Hartsville now that she’s on bed rest, which means he’s available to fill in. I can always offer to do admin work remotely—grab one of the ranch’s laptops and bring it with me.
But really, I don’t care what my brothers say about me going. The idea of staying on the ranch suddenly makes me feel like I’m coming out of my skin.
Figure I’m killing two birds with one stone: by going to Aspen, I keep Wheeler safe, and I get to scratch my travel itch.
Without thinking, I wrap my fingers around Wheeler’s wrist. She’s delicate here, her bones so slender my fingertips overlap by a good amount. I don’t miss the flicker of heat in her eyes that she tries to hide by blinking and looking away.
“I’ll go to Aspen with you.”
“What?” Her eyes bulge as they lock on mine. She scoffs, dropping her hand. “Stop teasing me.”
I release my grip. “I’m not teasing. I’ll be your assistant for the weekend. Put me to work, Ms. Rankin.”
She scoffs again. “Why the hell would you want to come with me on a really, really long road trip?”
“Better question: why wouldn’t I come? I’ve never been to Aspen.” I nod at the truck behind her. “Handling heavy machinery is literally my job. Well, a big part of it anyway. And I’m charming as fuck. I’ll help you sell out of your boots, no problem.”
She’s still staring at me. At last, she huffs out a low chuckle, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I appreciate the offer, Duke. But I think it’s best if I do this on my own.” She offers me a tight smile. “Thanks, though.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I don’t get out of Texas nearly enough, and I’m dying a slow death doing the same thing with the same people all day, every day. This trip—it could be good for the both of us, yeah?”
Her smile falters. “Since when do cowboys get sick of cowboying?”
“All the fucking time. It’s hard work. I’ve been doing it since I was about yay high.” I flex my wrist down by my knee. “You really gonna deprive me of a much-needed break?”
Wheeler rolls her eyes, even as the edges of her mouth twitch. “Way to lay it on real thick.”
“Kinda my style.”
“I’ve noticed.”
My chest twists. You paying attention to me, sweetheart? Maybe you really are curious about me, same as I’ve been curious about you.
“Say yes, Wheeler. You make me beg, I will. But I promise to be the best damn driver and assistant and model you could ask for.”
She’s laughing for real now. “You and the modeling. We don’t make men’s boots, remember?”
“Not yet.” I wag my brows. “Maybe I could convince you to give it a shot on the ride up to Aspen. I got some ideas.”
“Of course you do.” She runs her tongue along the bright pink seam of her bottom lip. “Lemme think about it, okay?”
“Me coming with you? Or Bellamy Brooks’s first men’s collection, the one that’s rugged yet polished and sells out in under a minute?”
She beams. “Both.”
I hold up my hands. “I ain’t going anywhere. Unless you give me the chance to take a trip that just might change my perspective and my life for the better.”
“My God, you’re shameless!” She gives my shoulder a playful shove.
This electricity between us is back. Suits me just fine. But I know it spooked her the night we met.
I’m determined not to scare her away again. Figure I’ll just be myself, listen to her as best as I can, make her laugh, and hope for the best.
I feel like we’re already making progress.