Chapter 19
Asher
I sat on the front steps of Wilder’s house for what had to be an hour, my boots planted firmly on the porch while I rested my elbows firmly on my knees. The sun had started its slow descent toward the horizon, the rays warming me despite it being pretty windy today.
It was one of those chilly sunny days where the sun’s rays tried their hardest to convince you it was comfortable but the wind kept snatching the warmth away, reminding you that winter was still hanging on tight.
I found it kind of funny, honestly, how opposite the winters were here compared to back home in Louisiana. We were both Southern states, but damn if we weren’t worlds apart in climate.
I snapped my head up just as a familiar dark blue truck rumbled down the road, the gravel crunching beneath the weight of its tires.
To my surprise, there was no horse trailer attached to the hitch.
Which was strange, considering they’d gone to the auction with the sole intent of finding a new stud.
A convenient cover for something else, maybe?
I followed the truck with my eyes as it pulled away to park next to Dallas’s, immediately tracking the man behind the wheel—Sully—as he wound his hand around the steering wheel, cranking the front wheels at an angle to fit the vehicle nice and tight next to the other one.
I stayed put, keeping my arms relaxed on my knees while he parked the vehicle and killed the engine. Both truck doors popped open in unison.
Sully was the first out, his voice cutting through the quiet of the late afternoon as he raised a hand in greeting. “Asher! Long time no see.”
I forced myself to wave back, pasting a neutral smile on my face even as my pulse stuttered in my throat. Unlike Sully, Wilder said nothing when his boots met the ground. No wave, no greeting, not even a damn grunt in my direction.
Just those sharp, assessing eyes locked on me like he was trying to read my face.
This was something I was used to, though, being scrutinized by him.
This felt comfortable, even if the situation was bordering on suffocating.
His movements were slow, deliberate, not at all hesitant but rather precise in how he moved.
Like an alien testing the waters at being human.
He brushed his hand along the side of the door to push it shut. The click felt like it sounded louder than it should have, like a line was being drawn between us somehow. A proverbial door closing on whatever unspoken thing sat between us.
I tried to not let that bother me.
Not at this moment, at least. Later, when I’d told them about the feed and I headed back up to my room for the night, I could allow myself to wallow.
I forced myself to turn back to Sully. “How was the auction?”
He smiled. “Not bad. Didn’t find what we were looking for. Hopefully, next time. How was your flight in?”
I brushed my fingers together a few times to keep them from twitching too obviously. Or grabbing Wilder by the front of his shirt and dragging him off somewhere private to talk to him alone.
The idle chit chat was making me antsy, my patience wearing thinner with each passing second. Storming down the steps and hauling Wilder away wasn’t exactly an option, though, considering Sully would absolutely follow after us.
He wasn’t the kind of man to let things slide. Or stop himself from demanding answers.
“It wasn’t bad,” I replied. “Was nice for Laken and Dallas to pick me up.”
Sully nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They were pretty eager to snag you. Glad to see you all made it back in one piece.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Trust me, it was a close call for a second there.”
At that, Sully let out an amused laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time they volunteer themselves as chauffeurs.”
Rolling up onto my feet, I watched in real time as Wilder’s shoulders stiffened.
As much as I wanted to stick around and continue to beat around the bush to stave off the inevitable, the second Sully picked up on the way Wilder was standing there silent as a damn statue, that easy amusement was going to flip to suspicion real quick.
My boots thunked against the steps as I traipsed them, both hands slipping into my pockets when I finally turned back to Wilder. “You got a sec? I wanted to show you something in the stables.”
His brows knitted together instantly, a barely-there frown pulling at his lips.
I didn’t wait for a reply, just tipped my chin toward the path and spun on my heel, taking off toward the stables.
I had no doubts he’d follow after me. Not just out of curiosity’s sake, which I knew would eat at him until he got an answer, but because I was taking him to someplace a little more public than asking for permission to come into his house to talk.
As much as I wanted to drag him to a closed off, private space, backing him into a corner like that was only going to make him more skittish.
None of this was meant to be some kind of disarming tactic but, in the end, it would end up working in my favor, nonetheless.
Arriving at the stables for the second time today, I caught the unmistakable echo of Wilder’s boots trailing after me, each measured step falling into place just a few beats behind my own.
Right on cue.
A sliver of pride bloomed in my chest, a small, smug part of me giving myself a metaphorical pat on the back. I had been right—he was too curious not to follow. Even if he was skeptical, despite the possibility of not exactly trusting whatever the hell I was dragging him into, he still came.
I was starting to know that man like the back of my hand.
His gaze burned into the back of my head as I led him straight to the alcove where I’d left both the note and the bottle of weed killer sitting right on top of the feed barrel’s lid.
“This is what I wanted to show you.”
I came to an abrupt stop, my boots sliding slightly against the dusty concrete.
Both my note and the weed killer were gone.
What the—?
I scanned the space quickly. I’d definitely left both sitting right there.
Behind me, Wilder slowed, his voice right next to my ear when he spoke. “The feed barrels?”
Shit.
What were the chances Carter had the balls to come back around and snatch both to cover his tracks?
If I had caught him right in the middle of whatever the hell he’d been doing, it would only make sense for him to try to get rid of any evidence left behind.
The bastard had probably been watching the stables, waiting for me to leave before sneaking back in and taking both. An hour ago, all I’d been thinking about was heading back up to the main house to make sure I caught Wilder before he got roped into something else.
I never considered Carter would come back to hide the evidence.
Sighing, I popped open the lid of the barrel I’d watched him actually touch. The scent of grain and molasses drifted up, familiar and normal, but that didn’t mean shit. “This all needs to be tested for contamination. Both barrels would probably be a good idea to sample from.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Contamination?” Wilder asked, sounding bewildered. “What happened?”
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “A few hours ago, I caught Carter messing with the feed. I’m not sure he put anything in it but I don’t think it’s worth risking feeding the horses without actually knowing.”
His expression shifted immediately. The initial confusion drained away, replaced by a slow, simmering anger that settled hard lines into his face. “Messed with how?”
I exhaled, dragging a hand over the back of my neck, my fingers pressing into the tense muscle there before stepping back and gesturing to both barrels.
“I came back here to grab a lead for Pelly and caught him with a bottle of weed killer. I don’t know if he was planning on dumping it into the feed or what, but after I chased him off, I looked at the bottle and to me it seemed like it was still full. ”
Wilder stiffened.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stood silent, staring at the barrels while his eyes darkened into that familiar contemplative stare. The one that meant his mind was working a hundred miles an hour, piecing things together while calculating how to proceed next.
If I knew anything about Wilder Boone, it was that once a line like this got crossed, there was no coming back from it.
However, the tricky part was proving it.
No evidence meant no way to accuse Carter of anything. Essentially, it was my word against his. Wilder may believe me wholeheartedly but that didn’t mean Sully would. He’d want some kind of proof before banning the guy from the property officially.
“We’ll pull the feed and get it moved to the storage shed for now,” he said, moving around me. “I’ll have to call up to the farm and tack shop in town and have them deliver an emergency supply to us.”
My stomach sank. “Sorry.”
Technically, it wasn’t my fault, along with it being the right thing to do after catching Carter and reporting him, but I still felt terrible.
Places like this, breeding and training facilities, weren’t known for turning a massive profit. Most of the time, they were lucky to break even.
The breeding programs paid the bills, sure, but most of that money went right back into the business. Covering the cost of feed, vet care, maintenance, equipment, and paying us ranch hands our weekly paychecks.
Outside of that?
There wasn’t a lot of room for extra spending.
I’d overheard Sully and Wilder talking about it more than once over the past few months—running the numbers, adjusting budgets, making sure they were keeping our heads above water.
Now, because of this bullshit, Wilder was going to have to drop more money on an emergency feed delivery. Money that could’ve gone elsewhere instead of trying to make up for some asshole’s plot to... whatever.
It wasn’t fair.
Wilder turned to me, his brows knitting together again. “Why are you sorry?”
I let out a small, self-deprecating grunt. “My first day back and I’m already causing trouble.”