Page 74 of On the Wild Side

“Sorry.” I clear my throat and then giggle when he nudges me with his shoulder. “I see that there are a lot of neighboring ranches here.”

“Yep.”

“But no Lexingtons. They’rerightnext door, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he says, looking over his shoulder.

“Who are you looking for?”

“My dad. He doesn’t like that name to be spoken on his property. No, they aren’t here.”

“Why?”

“You’ve heard of the rivalry.”

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize that it was a Hatfield and McCoy situation.”

“Pretty much.”

I frown, blinking at him. “Did you kill each other in the Wild West days?”

“Sure.”

“Stop it. You did not.”

“Rumor has it that they did. These days, it’s been a bunch of lawsuits over property lines and moved fences. Bad attitudes, mostly from Old Man Lexington, who is a complete asshole. Neighbors help them out, and not because they feel any friendship or kinship to that old man, but because of the kids and the hands they have out there that need the help.”

“But no help from the Wilds.”

His eyes meet mine, glowing in the firelight. “No. Personally, I don’t have a beef with Holden or his sisters. Never have, although I know something happened between him and Millie.”

We both look over to where Millie’s sitting with the kids, laughing as they tell her stories.

“There’s something there,” I agree softly.

“Like I said, no beef on my part. But my dad is old-school and still remembers some of the shit that happened when he was a kid, and it wasn’t good.”

“Maybe, as generations pass, things will change.”

Brady shrugs and offers me a bite of his s’more.

“When do you leave, Brady?” Chase asks from just a little way away.

“Day after tomorrow,” Brady replies. Instinctively, he reaches for my hand and threads our fingers together. “I leave before dawn for the airport.”

Polly’s watching me with somber eyes, but I smile, putting on a brave face.

“He’s going to kick ass,” I add, squeezing his hand. “Hey, is it televised somewhere that I can watch it?”

Brady’s gaze whips down to mine, his eyes fierce, and I know that I’ve asked the wrong thing.

“You cannotwatch.” His voice is almost desperate, full of panic. “Absolutely fuckingnot.”

“I know you don’t want anyone there in person, but?—”

“It’s his thing,” Remington says with a shrug. “No watching, even on TV. We can watch after, though.”

“There are all kinds of videos of his rides through the years on YouTube,” Ryan adds.

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