Page 52 of Ride Me Reckless
As Rhett’s truck rumbled down the long back road, the sky was already purple at dusk. My legs ached in that deep, familiar way—like they were waking up after a long sleep—but I didn’t complain, not with the mountains in front of me and the hospital in the rearview mirror.
We crested a slight rise, and there it was.
Dalia’s house.
Or what was left of it.
Blackened beams. The crumpled shell of the roof. Ashes where a porch used to be. Even the mailbox had twisted like it couldn’t take the heat.
Rhett slowed the truck out of respect, but neither of us spoke at first.
Then I said it, low. “I offered Tessa my place. Told her all of ’em could move in. Just for a while.”
“And she said no?” Rhett asked, not surprised.
I nodded. “Didn’t say it to be mean. She’s just… not ready. And it’s all still new between us.”
Rhett scratched at the back of his neck, eyes still on the road. “You know what you oughta do?”
I waited.
He looked over at me. “The old double-wide. It’s still on your family’s property, right? Decent bones. Doesn’t need much.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Haven’t thought about that place much since we hit the Powerball and we bought Lucky Ranch.”
“Well, think about it now,” he said. “Barn is in good shape, too. You move Biscuit back there, and suddenly it ain’t just a busted-up trailer on some land—it’s home to Tessa.”
I turned to stare out the window again as we passed the last scorched debris.
“She wouldn’t take it for herself,” I said slowly.
“No,” Rhett agreed. “But she might take it for that horse and her mother.”
I laughed under my breath, because damn if that wasn’t the truth.
“She’s stubborn.”
“She’s a woman with pride,” Rhett said. “Same as you.”
We rode in silence another few seconds before I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped in the number. Carlos answered on the second ring.
“Bennett,” he said, his voice familiar and half amused. “You back from the grave already?”
“Better,” I said. “I’m out early.”
“Lucky for the hospital.”
I grinned. “Listen, I’ve got a job for you.”
“Oh no. What did you do now?”
“I need the old double-wide cleaned out and fixed up. Check the plumbing. Replace what needs replacing. Clean up the barn, too. Move Biscuit over. She’s gonna need hay, feed, and her tack.”
There was a pause. “You movin’ in again?”
“No. Not me,” I said. “I need it livable by the end of the week.”
Carlos whistled low. “That a deadline or a death wish?”
