He paused but when I didn’t fill in the gap, he grinned.
“I’ll tell you anyway,” he continued. “He thinks he’s got it all togetherwhere relationships are concerned. But he really doesn’t. He’s a great brother, uncle and brother-in-law, and do you know why?” I shook my head. “Because all those are unconditional relationships. If he thinks it's with someone who might walk away, well, then he’s not so good.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Gunner blew out a breath and I knew that he was going to give me something deep.
“He handled Mom’s death by trying to keep us upbeat. He thought if he was the one to make us laugh we wouldn’t leave, which is why when Nash left for college he was really pissed with him.” He pushed off the desk and tapped my shoulder. “The point is, Tally, he might just self-sabotage if he thinks it will save him the heartache in the long-term. And the other point is, if he does that then it’s because he cares…a lot.”
My pulse sped up at his words, at the idea that Wilder maybe…
Walking back to his desk he paused and swiveled back around. “I guess what I’m saying, Tally, is don’t give up on him. He just needs some time to realize that you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you.”
Whistling, he strolled out of the office, leaving me more confused than ever.
Chapter 24
I Couldn’t Be More in Love – The 1975
Wilder
The level of excitement around the stables was coming off the ground in waves. Every ranch hand was hanging around, finding jobs to do so they could be there when the new stallion arrived. It was like the second coming. I’d never seen everyone so damn giddy.
“How far off is he?” I asked Gunner.
I was speaking to my brother, but my attention was elsewhere. Specifically with the redhead talking to Glenn over by the paddock.
“They should be here any minute.” He was bouncing on the balls of hisfeet looking toward the driveway. “He’s fucking magnificent, Wild.”
“Yeah, you said.” I tried desperately not to sigh, but I just couldn’t get excited about a horse with a huge dick and a pedigree as long as my arm.
Tally was amused at something that Glenn the dickweed said, her soft laugh cutting through the crisp morning air like an alarm bell. Instinctively my hands clenched at my sides.
“Glenn,” I yelled. “You want to get some work done instead of trying to get a date with Tally.”
His frown pissed me off. He fucking pissed me off.
“Gunner asked me to help out with the stallion,” he protested.
“Gunner’s not your boss, I am. And,” I snarled, “the damn horse isn’t here yet.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Gunner muttered. After a beat he chuckled. “Oh, I see. Tallulah Brown.”
I whipped back around to face my brother. “Do you want to shut your face or not?”
He walked away laughing loudly, making my spine stiffen even more. When I turned back around Tally was glaring at me. When Glenn moved to walk away she grabbed his forearm and pulled him back. White hot anger pumped through my veins, my pulse drumming in my ears like boot heels on concrete, as I watched her give him her full attention.
Well, fuck that. I wasn’t staying around to watch that play out. Not when every single second felt like a needle stabbing. Pricks of jealousy and hurt that I couldn’t do that with her. That I was too damn scared to show what she was starting to mean to me.
What she already meant to me.
The air felt too thick, suffocating, heavy with the sharp tang of hay, morning dew clinging to the grass and excited anticipation. I walked away, not looking back.
When I got into town I got the feeling I’d pissed someone of high authority off, because the streets were just as busy with excited, happy people as the ranch. It was the run-up to Thanksgiving, so I should have realized. We weren’t a town that went big on decorations for it, but a few of the storeshad pumpkins in the windows or fall wreaths on the door. Nothing too fancy, preferring to wait for Christmas to go crazy with the lights and the Santas.
The warm aroma of the pumpkin pie and sharp, sweet, spiced coffee drifted out of Missy May’s and almost dragged me inside. When I saw Davis Quinton there eating a huge sandwich, I changed my mind. As much as we needed to speak to him about the land he was going to give back to us, I didn’t have the energy. Or the inclination. I wanted some peace and quiet to think about…Brownie. Always damn Brownie.
It was too cold to go and sit in the park, so the only place was Downtown Bar & Grill. At least in there I could grab myself a booth with cracked vinyl and a view of the rain-streaked window, read a copy of the Silver Peaks News that Delaney always kept on the bar and pretend like I wasn’t drowning in feelings.
When I wandered inside the stale smell of beer and disinfectant hit me, the bar was quiet but for the clanking of bottles behind the bar. Delaney was stacking the refrigerator, a towel hanging out of his back pocket as he whistled along to Dust on The Bottle that was playing on the jukebox.
