Page 8 of Whiskey and Wildfire

“Lucas says hi by the way,” he muttered. “And good luck on the trail.”

“Thanks,” I replied stiffly, not bothering to cover up my displeasure. “He should have been on this drive.”

“I’d let him if he knew what do?—”

“Let him?” I scoffed. “He need permission from the king of popularity to do anything now?”

“No, of course not. I just meant?—”

“I don’t care, Beau,” I said, cutting him off. “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

I gave my horse a tug and pulled ahead, leaving Beau behind me. To my relief, he didn’t try to catch up and finish ourconversation. And that was for the best. I couldn’t think of a person I liked less in all of Sagebrush than Beau Turner.

“You two ready to go?” Dakota called out, already up in his saddle. Behind him was a second horse loaded down with saddlebags. Mama had been working on filling them all week so we had plenty to eat while we were out on the trail. “Let’s get a move on before the sun comes up and the heat sets in.”

“Right,” I muttered, trying not to look him in the face either.

Spending a week with Beau Turner was bad enough. But having to spend a week with Dakota Parker, our ranch hand that clearly wanted nothing to do with me, somehow hurt more. There was no bad blood between us like there was with me and Beau. He just plain didn’t want to be friends with me. Something about that validated my worst fears about myself.

As we rode out into the pre-dawn darkness, the only sounds were the gentle clop of hooves and the occasional lowing of cattle. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, determined not to engage with either of my companions. The cool morning air nipped at my cheeks, a welcome distraction from my churning thoughts.

After about an hour of tense silence, Beau cleared his throat. “So, uh, Logan... how’re you liking being back in Sagebrush?”

I grunted noncommittally, not wanting to encourage conversation. Clearly this big fucking doofus wasn’t going to give up just yet.

“It must be quite a change from New York,” he pressed on. “Lucas says?—”

“I don’t need you to tell me what Lucas says,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “He can tell me himself.”

Beau fell silent, and I felt a tiny twinge of guilt that I quickly brushed away. I knew I was being unnecessarily harsh and honestly, rude as fuck. But I didn’t care. Not when it came to Beau Turner. That guy didn’t deserve anything from me.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just tryin’ to make conversation.”

“Yeah, well don’t.”

He gave his horse Willow a little kick, pulling up next to me with his voice lowered. “Listen, I’m not sure what I did to earn your anger, but I’d like to try to fix it.”

“Fix it?” I scoffed. “What makes you think you can fix it?”

I glanced over at Beau, his face etched with genuine concern in the dim pre-dawn light. For a split second, I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“Look,” he said softly, “I know you and Lucas were close before you left for New York. And I know things are different now that he and I are together. But I’m not trying to come between you two. You’re still his best friend.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Best friend? Is that what he told you? We talk maybe once a month now, and it’s all small talk. He doesn’t tell me anything important anymore.”

Beau’s brow furrowed. “That’s not true. He talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“He does,” Beau insisted. “He misses you, Logan. I’ve seen him try to call you, try to meet up for lunch or somethin’.”

“And he always wants to bring you along,” I spat. “That’s not being a best friend. That’s being a third wheel.”

“Why don’t you tell him that then? I don’t mind if y’all hang out alone.”

I turned, looking Beau directly in his stupid face. “You want me to tell my best friend that I despise the man he loves more than anything else in the world? How well do you think that’s going to go over?”

“You despise me?” He looked genuinely surprised. “What did I do to earn that?”

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