Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Wilder
“Well…how’d it go? Are you behind bars? Do you need bail money? Or has some dude named Ralph made you his bitch already?”
Smirking, I replay Delilah’s voice memo in my truck just to hear her voice and laughter again.
Holding up my phone, I take a selfie with my tongue sticking out and two fingers up.
“Not behind bars and no one’s bitch…but I got a misdemeanor charge with a year probation—which means if I get into any more legal trouble before it’s over, they’ll send me to jail for the remainder of the time.
There’s a no contact order in place because Wesley’s a little bitch who thinks I’ll knock him out again.
I have a hefty fine to pay, a hundred hours of community service, and then I have to take an anger management class.
I’m almost wonderin’ if you told ’em that.
There’ll be a review hearing in ninety days to check my progress. ”
Laughing at that last part, I send the voice memo and then buckle in so I can get the hell out of here and back to the ranch.
Delilah
Now that I know you’re not behind bars, I can yell at you for giving me a hickey and then not telling me before we went to lunch with all your siblings!!!
I can’t help the wide grin that spreads across my face when I read her text.
Wilder
Whoops…guess it slipped my mind.
Truthfully, I liked seeing it on her neck, fresh and purple, a memory that the night before happened regardless of her insisting we don’t talk about it.
Tasting her for the first time is something I’ll forever remember and never forget.
But I figured she’d see it in the mirror when she went to the bathroom. When she came back out and didn’t say anything, I didn’t either.
Once I’m parked in front of my place, I rush inside and change into my work clothes.
“Seriously, though, it sounds like you got lucky. Did Wesley show up? What did the judge say?”
Her next memo comes through and I debate calling her instead, but I’m already four hours behind my work schedule, so I quickly record another one while I get dressed.
“Yep, he sure did. Lookin’ smug as hell too until the judge questioned him about patrollin’ while off-duty.
Apparently, he was parked at the Twisted Bull, watching someone he suspects is dealin’ drugs and was waitin’ to see them drive away so he could follow.
But he was concerned—which I call bullshit—when you stormed out of the bar and then five minutes later, I jumped into the passenger seat.
When we left, he followed to make sure we weren’t drinkin’ and drivin’.
But again, I call bullshit. Knowing Wesley, he wanted any reason to fuck with me and used you to do it. ”
I send the memo and then grab everything I need before rushing down to my truck.
Once it’s started, I hit record again and drive toward the retreat.
“He probably saw us foolin’ around and wanted to bust my balls because of the whole sleepin’ with his wife thing.
Anyway…the judge asked if he had documentation on this drug dealin’ suspect, and when he said no, the judge basically discredited his excuse.
Not sure what’s gonna happen to him since he’s already on suspended leave, but I’d avoid him to be safe. ”
She sends another memo as I park in front of the barn. “Well, I avoid most men, so it won’t be an issue on my end.”
I snort, then listen to her next one.
“I’m happy to hear you’re not behind bars. But maybe for funsies, you stay out of trouble and keep your fists to yourself?”
Wilder
Just my fists?
Delilah
Your mouth, too. It’s what gets you into hot water most times because you’re always running it.
Wilder
Pretty sure you liked my mouth on yours by the moaning and begging you were doing.
Delilah
I did not beg!
Grinning, I grab my Stetson hat and phone before exiting my truck, continuing the conversation about court.
“John being there helped my case a lot. He argued about Wesley’s unprofessionalism and provokin’ me on purpose.
The judge already saw the body cam footage, so he knew, and although he agreed that it was out of line, I still had to be punished for assaultin’ an officer regardless if he was on duty or not.
John talked him out of givin’ me jail time since I wasn’t a threat to the general public and was an asset needed on my family’s ranch business.
So he agreed with the probation and other stuff instead. ”
“An asset, huh?” She giggles in her next voice memo. “Don’t tell your siblings. They’ll give you shit for that one.”
“Trust me, I know. But I’d rather they do that than have to serve time. I gotta get to work before Waylon kills me, but I’m pickin’ you up at seven. Don’t eat beforehand. I’m takin’ you out to celebrate.”
I pocket my phone without waiting for her response—since I’m sure she’ll act defiant about it—and then find Waylon in one of the stalls.
“Well, well, well…” he drawls, and I already know he’s going to be on my ass all day. “If it ain’t the criminal.”
“Save it. I’m here and gonna catch up,” I tell him, grabbing one of the rakes and getting to work.
After we break for lunch, Waylon and I get the horses ready for the trail ride tour. Four people signed up for today, so we take out the horses assigned to them.
When guests check in, they can sign up for activities and when they choose trail riding, Tripp gives them a specific horse based on their experience and age. If they want to go more than once, they’ll get the same horse each time.
Waylon usually leads the group and then I follow at the end to make sure no one gets left behind or a horse doesn’t randomly take off. Sometimes we’ll switch and then we each talk about the ranch’s history and how Sugarland Creek became what it is today.
When the group is more playful or experienced with horses, I’ll stand up in the stirrups and ride next to the other horses to get them to gallop faster. It usually makes the younger guests laugh and they get to experience the trails the fun way.
“Hey, everyone, welcome to the retreat! I’m Waylon and this is my brother Wilder, and we’ll be your guides today. Has anyone been here before?”
Waylon continues with his usual welcoming speech as I lead two horses on each side of me toward the corral. It’s where the guests will put on their saddles and get comfortable climbing on and off before we leave.
We’ll check they’re secure beforehand, but it’s fun for them to learn about some of the aspects beforehand. When we return, they’ll remove the saddles, and we’ll talk them through grooming care.
“During this season, you’re gonna get the most beautiful views from the mountains. Lots of colorful trees,” I tell them once everyone’s settled on their saddles. “We’ll stop at the top so you can take pics if you want.”
Before everything happened this past year, I was known to be rowdy on the trails, sometimes even standing on my horse and taking bigger risks while riding.
I wanted that adrenaline rush any way I could get it even if it meant falling on my ass or getting kicked off.
And although I still do things that are considered reckless, I got a lot of perspective after Mr. Fanning’s death and talking with a therapist.
The afternoon sun peeks through the trees as we give our usual spiel about the ranch and the Appalachian Mountains that surround it. A couple asks questions and then we stop to take photos for them.
Once we return from the tour and get the horses back in their stalls, the guests are free to explore, but they’re usually with a group of people.
“Wilder, right?” One of the women from the tour taps me on the shoulder.
“Yep, that’s me.” I tip my cowboy hat with my usual lopsided grin.
“Hey, I’m Molly. I was wonderin’ if I could get your number? Or I can give you mine?”
Her question takes me off guard because there were no signs she was interested in me that way. We’d talked a little, but there was no flirting, at least on my end.
“Unless you’re married, of course.” Her gaze falls to my left hand. “But I didn’t notice a ring.”
I lick my bottom lip, trying to figure out how to respond. The last thing I want to do is make her feel bad or ruin the rest of her vacation.
“Uh, no. Not married. But sorry, I don’t have time to date right now either.”
Unless she’s five-foot-five, blond, and responds to Delly. Then I’d make all the time in the world for her.
Right now, she’s currently blowing up my phone with messages—probably insisting she can’t go to dinner tonight for some bogus reason—but we have a strict no-phone policy when we’re with the guests. I’ll have to wait until I’m alone at the barn or in my truck to respond.
“Oh, because of the community service hours you have to do now?” she sasses.
I furrow my brows. How the hell does she know about that already? I only got out of court three hours ago. The small-town gossip mill is fast, but not that fast.
“Excuse me?”
Her entire demeanor changes and she whips out a recorder. “Could I get a statement for The Creek Chronicles about your charges? Perhaps shine some light on how you continually get away with breakin’ the law?”
I step back, growing more pissed the longer she talks. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“This is you, right?” She taps on her phone screen a few times and then holds it up for me. There are a couple old photos of me looking drunk and stupid, with her name printed below the headline:
Power and Privilege Prevail: Wilder Hollis Avoids Serious Punishment After Assaulting Officer, Sparks Public Outcry About Sugarland Creek’s Popular Ranch & Equine Retreat