Chapter 15 #2
I gave her one last pat before stepping out, too, latching the door closed behind me just in time to dodge the teeth snapping for my hat again.
“Persistent little shit,” I muttered under my breath.
Laken chuckled as we started walking down the main aisle together, the sound of our boots scuffing against the swept concrete the only noise aside from the occasional soft huff of a horse.
Most of the others had their heads lazily bobbing out of their stalls to watch us pass, losing interest quickly before retreating back inside.
The stars spread out like scattered diamonds, twinkling against the vast stretch of night in a way that had me stopping to stare at them for a short pause.
The air was crisp but not freezing—an oddity this time of year.
Usually, Texas was cold as hell around the end of December. But for the past two days, we’d gotten a sudden warm front that had blown in from the north, bringing with it just enough sunshine to chase away the lingering frost that clung to the fence posts and grass blades each morning.
It was nice.
If I hadn’t been so busy trying to keep occupied, I would’ve been outside enjoying it more.
Laken shoved both hands into his pockets, his breath coming out in a quiet sigh. “I’m looking forward to Friday. You?”
I pulled the stable doors shut behind us, latching them securely before raising a brow at him. “Is this a TGIF thing? I’d say yes, but I don’t exactly take days off.”
Surprisingly, he nudged me, his elbow knocking against my side.
“You should,” he said, shooting me a pointed look. “You’re gonna give yourself gray hair if you don’t quit working yourself to the bone.”
I grunted, ignoring the comment as I adjusted my hat.
Gray hair wasn’t exactly high on my list of concerns—not when I didn’t have anyone to impress or go home to. If anything, it helped me in the long run.
Older ranchers had a certain presence to them; a level of respect that came with experience, with years of hard work carved into their hands and faces.
At auctions, those were the men who were taken seriously—the ones who could drop a few thousand without anyone questioning whether they knew what the hell they were doing.
A lot of this business was family-run, and more often than not, the head of the household was the one front and center at those events. A man with decades of ranching under his belt, his word carried weight just by virtue of the years he’d put into it.
Being a younger owner—and looking it—tended to work against me more than it ever worked in my favor.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d had to prove myself before anyone took me seriously.
“Well, for the record, you should take a break sometime,” he said. “Before we have to start planning your retirement party at, like, forty.”
I snorted. “I might be dead by then.”
If the stress of this place didn’t kill me first, my stupid heart sure seemed determined to finish the job instead, suffocating me under the weight of unreciprocated feelings of my own damn making.
Thirty-four years I’d spent living my life in peace and without any unnecessary complications, only for all of that to be completely destroyed by a young, brilliant greenhorn who was determined to undo me entirely without lifting a single finger.
Laken gave me a side-eye. “Damn, boss. That was kinda bleak.”
I grunted, rolling my shoulders. “Forget I said any of that.”
If Sully caught wind of me getting existential on anyone, he’d drag me back to my office at the main house and force me to have that conversation we were both avoiding.
Laken shook his head, but he didn’t push. “Whatever you say.” Then, after a beat, he added, “Hey, least with Asher coming back on Friday, you’ll finally be relieved of Pelly duty.”
My heart—the traitorous fucking thing—stuttered.
For a brief second, I almost faltered in my steps. I forced myself to keep moving, keep my expression neutral while Laken watched for my reaction.
For some reason, it still didn’t feel real that he was finally coming back.
In the grand scheme of things, three and a half weeks wasn’t long at all—barely a blip in the kind of life we’d built here on the ranch and with the amount of work we put in. But to go from seeing someone every single day, from sunup to sundown, only to have that yanked away all at once?
It felt like a damn lifetime.
“Guess I’ll go see how much trouble everyone got up to while I was gone,” he teased.
I barely registered his words before the sharp buzz of my phone went off in my pocket, vibrating insistently against my leg.
Digging it out, I lifted it in front of me, expecting to see Sully’s name lighting up the screen to tell me to get back to the bunkhouse and help him drag our staff up to their rooms, or maybe my mama’s, calling to wish me a happy New Year’s.
Instead, my breath caught.
Because the name that light up my screen was neither of them.
Asher.
This time, my steps did falter.
“You good?” Laken asked, stopping, too, his voice snapping me back to the present.
I swallowed.
My phone was still vibrating and I realized belatedly my fingers were shaking in time with it.
Asher.
Slowly, I looked up, my fingers tightening around my phone. “I’m... gonna take this.”
Laken gave me a strange look, brows knitting slightly, but he didn’t push. Clearly, it wasn’t in him to pry and I was his boss, which meant he probably knew better than to press when I wasn’t offering any explanation.
He nodded slowly. “You need anything, I’ll be up at the bunkhouse.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, the word feeling gravelly, rough on my tongue.
He shot me one last look before turning, heading up the dirt path toward the bunkhouse. His boots scuffed against the ground, the sound growing fainter with every step until he disappeared into the dark.
Standing under the only light next to the main pasture, the dull glow casting long shadows around me, I exhaled sharply and swiped my thumb over the screen before I could second-guess myself.
I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Wilder! Happy New Year!”
I winced at his volume, pulling the phone slightly away from my ear. “Happy New Year.”
There was noise in the background—a lot of it. Excited cheering, overlapping voices that blended together in the background, noise makers blaring through the receiver, and somewhere in the distance, the distinct wail of what sounded like a fire station siren going off.
Sounded like Asher was in the middle of a party. A big one at that.
What the hell was he calling me for then?
“You okay?” I asked, hoping my voice cut through the chaos on the other end of the line.
“Was I the first one?”
I frowned. “First one what?”
“To wish you a happy New Year!”
Warmth bled into my chest before I could stop it, a soft smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Yes, actually.”
A whoop came through the speaker, followed by the distinct sound of someone knocking into something—probably him, given how unsteady he sounded.
“Yes! Oh my god, I was hoping I was! I wanted to call right after the proposal but the fire station got a call and then Gage had to go, so I didn’t have time. But now I do!”
He sounded like he was practically vibrating through the phone, rambling so fast it took me a second to catch up.
My head spun, trying to decide which part to comment on first.
And then there was the matter of how drunk he sounded because from the way his words were tumbling out of his mouth, he was at least halfway there.
Who the hell was serving an underage teenager alcohol?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, biting back a chuckle despite myself. “Slow down, kid. Did you say a proposal?”
“Oh! Remember how I told you my brother might be getting engaged? Well, it happened. Right at New Year’s when the fireworks went off!”
I tucked a hand under my arm, leaning back until my hip met the fence post next to me. I liked hearing his voice brimming with excitement, the pure, unfiltered joy I was used to hearing with no touch of that sadness from the other day. “That’s amazing. Congratulations to your brother.”