Chapter 2
WYATT
Much to my annoyance, it seems that tourist season is in full swing when I arrive at Big Sky diner. Removing my Stetson, I push my way through a group of people too caught up in their own conversation to notice they’re blocking the entryway.
Damn these people and damn the Harts.
They’re the only people in this town putting these tourists up, so I know my irritation with them is fully justified.
But it doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to get rid of the image of Maddie yesterday when I told her I would leave the ATV in the middle of their driveway.
It’s not guilt. I know that much, but there is a niggle of something I can’t quite put my finger on.
I shake my head to clear the thought of her from my mind as I reach the crowded counter; the smell of coffee and fried food lingers in the air.
Every year, Coldwater is inundated with people wanting to play pretend with the cowboy lifestyle.
They think that the place is their own personal playground.
It’s gotten worse in recent years, with Hollywood making it seem glamorous, even fun, and the Harts have leaned into that without a care for how it impacts others’ lives.
They bring customers to places like Big Sky or my cousin Autumn’s coffee shop, Chapters and Crumbs. But while they are in town, people like my “wouldn’t hurt a fly” cousin get their hearts broken. On top of that, thousands of dollars’ worth of damage is done to our ranch, Wild Heartlands.
I run the ranch with my brothers—Grayson and Kade—and our sister, Gracie.
Although Gracie doesn’t have much to do with the day-to-day running of it, and Grayson has only handed over some of the responsibility to me and Kade these past two years.
The ranch has been in our family for over a hundred years, and I’ll be damned if I let the Harts and their unruly tourists put that in jeopardy.
Just two more months until summer is over and everything will be back to some semblance of normal.
Two months too long, if you ask me. I swear, this summer feels extra busy; there are more unfamiliar faces hanging out around town and even worse is the number of trespassers we’ve caught on our land.
They’ve been crashing through fences, getting lost wandering out in the pastures to take pictures, and we’ve even found a few people having picnics of all things.
Doris is packing up a to-go order when I slide onto a worn red vinyl stool that’s just been vacated. “Mornin’, Doris,” I greet, picking up a laminated menu from the countertop. “What’s the special for today?”
She gives the bag she was packing to a guy dressed in a plaid shirt—despite the summer heat—and blue jeans, before moving to stand in front of me, her pad and pen ready. “I don’t know why you insist on us doing this every time, Wyatt.”
I arch one brow and aim my most charming grin at her. It usually works, especially with women.
Just not Maddie.
The thought catches me off guard, but I don’t falter with the smile aimed at Doris. The last person I would want my charm to work on is Maddie Hart. I’m more than happy with the way things are between us.
As expected, Doris blushes before rolling her eyes and tugging on her apron, clearly a little flustered. “Wyatt Wilde, you are a pain in my ass,” she admonishes, but we both know she doesn’t mean it.
“But you love me anyway, Doris,” I tease, setting the menu down on the counter, because I already know what I’m having, I get it every time I come in.
“I think that’s debatable.” A patron calls her from the other side of the diner, holding up their coffee mug and drawing her attention away from me. “Well, this has been fun, as always. You want the usual?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, dipping my chin as she backs away and leaves me with my own company.
Doris walks off, jotting down my order and handing it into the kitchen as she passes the window that separates it from the main dining area. She might be eighty-something years old, but she gives as good as she gets whenever we talk.
The group blocking the doorway leaves, the chime from the bell above the door signaling their exit along with the lowering of the volume in the place.
Tension eases out of my body and I exhale as I cast my eyes around the room looking for an open booth.
As much as I love watching Doris work, I’d much prefer a view out of the windows that span the two walls of the building.
Familiar faces litter the room, mingling with some that I’ve never seen before. When you grow up in a small town like Coldwater, with a population of 544, it’s hard not to know everyone and their business. Some I wish I didn’t know—like the Harts’—and others I’d go to bat for, like Doris.
I narrow my eyes when they land on a certain brunette as she leans back in her booth talking with her brother. Speak of the devil and she will appear. Maddie and Rhett Hart.
They’re huddled over their table, talking in what looks to be hushed tones. Probably conspiring on what more they can do to hurt the people and land of this town. It would be typical of them to stoop to that level.
You can never trust a Hart. I should know. I learned that the hard way.
Disgust travels down the length of my spine, and my top lip curls at the reminder of my accident nearly fifteen years ago at the hands of Deacon Hart.
“Can we help you, Wilde?” Rhett asks, a scowl on his face that I’m sure matches my own.
I slide off my stool, keeping my gait slow and smooth as I walk toward them. Maddie’s dark brown eyes narrow, and the corner of my mouth twitches with amusement. Fucking with them is one of my favorite pastimes; it soothes something in my soul.
“No problem, Hart, other than you letting your vermin run wild,” I reply, coming to a stop at the edge of their booth and tapping my knuckles on the worn tabletop.
Rhett balls his fist on the slightly scratched surface and Maddie reaches out a hand as if to say, “not now.” Delight dances in my gut as I continue, “Besides that, I was looking for an empty booth, and would you look at that?” I flick my gaze to the now-empty booth behind them. “There’s one right here.”
Without giving either of them a chance to reply, I walk away, sinking into the booth seat that puts me directly behind Maddie.
Dirty dishes litter the table, so I busy myself with moving them out of my way before pulling out some napkins from the dispenser and wiping down the tabletop, all while half listening to the two people behind me.
Maddie sighs heavily, the sound a mix of frustration and reluctance, before continuing her conversation with Rhett. Her voice is hushed, but if I lean back against my seat enough, I can make out what she’s saying.
“I don’t know if Daddy will go for it, Rhett.
” She pauses, and I picture her pushing her plate away from her as a soft scraping fills the quiet.
“I’ve put together a proposal, and I’m hoping that if I focus on the revenue versus expenditure he’ll agree to us putting in a bid because it’ll cost a fair bit of money. More than any of the other lots.”
My ears prick. What is she talking about?
I mean, there aren’t many lots of land for sale around here, so I have an idea.
I should have known she’d be thinking of doing something like this.
Irritation swirls in my gut as I listen in.
The last bit of Evergreen land is currently the only plot up for sale in Coldwater, and it doesn’t make sense for the Harts to buy something outside of town when their business is here.
Jim Evergreen is selling his land in pieces.
Over the last two years, we’ve bid on the parcels that will grow our acreage, with many of them being successful, but Mr. Evergreen has been cautious about selling anyone more land than others.
When I asked him why he wasn’t just selling to the highest bidder, he said that he didn’t want one family to become too powerful.
And yet he’d willingly sell it to someone like Maddie Hart. Her intentions aren’t honorable. All she wants is to make more money and bring people into the county who have no respect for the people who have made this place home.
The last plot of Evergreen land sits between Wild Heartlands and Hartlands Ranch. I have no doubt that if the Harts get it, then we’ll have even more tourists trespassing and causing damage—and not just to our land but to our people.
Doris arrives, clearing away the dirty dishes with a practiced ease. She tuts and shakes her head when our eyes meet, and I hold up my hands, grinning as I feign innocence before she walks away.
Rhett was always a loudmouth, so it doesn’t come as a surprise that I can hear him clear as day when he responds, even with a mouth full of food.
“I know that he’ll say yes, just because it’s you, Mads.
” He pauses, and I picture him swallowing his food before he continues, “Besides, it’s a good idea.
It will be perfect for what you have planned. ”
What does she have planned? Whatever it is, I know it won’t be good for us.
I want to tell them to back the fuck off, but, instead, I tune out their conversation when Maddie asks Rhett about his latest art project.
Right now, I need to figure out a way of stopping the Harts from getting that land.
Hell, I’d rather die trying than never have tried at all.