“That doesn’t mean I want a conversation.” I bristle, crossing my arms over my belly.
Tristan laughs. “Fair enough. No more talking. Although feel free to tell me more about your dreams.”
The asshat closes my door and walks around the front.
I close my eyes again, hoping I can keep my stomach from revolting during the rest of the drive. Even better, I can’t talk if I’m asleep.
Time to fake it.
As soon as Tristan hops in beside me, I know I’m doomed. He leans in, adjusting my seat belt back around me. My eyes open immediately, and I push his hands away. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.”
One dark brown brow lifts. “Are you?”
I glare at him. “Yes. Now, go back to your side. I’m going to nap.”
His breathy laugh echoes in the silence. “Suit yourself.”
The truck rumbles to life, and I pretend my eyelids are glued.
Well, partially.
I lift my right one, staring at him in the dim light from the dash.
His head turns, and I slam it closed, hoping he didn’t catch me.
Hope is futile at this point. I should stop doing it since it’s not working out all that well for me.
“How’s the nap going?”
I sigh. “Great.”
“How is your stomach?”
“As long as I keep my eyes closed, it seems better.”
Apparently, if I can’t see the road, I’m able to control it. Tomorrow is going to suck, though.
After trying to fake sleep and my stomach starting to churn again, I turn to Tristan. “Why is your ranch named Heartstone?” I ask the stupidest question ever asked.
He glances over. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“But you just asked.”
I hate him.
I decide to back down and not let my curiosity get the best of me. “Forget it. I don’t care.”
Tristan snorts a laugh. “It’s because of my mother.”
That makes zero sense. “Huh? Your mother?”
Tristan’s family farm has been passed down for at least four generations. How do I know this? Because our family has been doing the same. It’s always the first son who gets it. Blah blah. Boys and the patriarchy crap. Not that any of the daughters couldn’t have run those ranches—and done it better.
I’ve heard the story about my family and their pass-down rules, and I know it matches his, so that truly baffles me. Our name has been the same since the 1870s.
He nods. “We’ve always been named the Stone Ranch after my grandfathers, going back forever. That didn’t change until my father met my mother, VirginiaHart.”
