Forbidden Cowboy (Rocky Ridge Creek #1)

Chapter Sixteen

LEVI

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MY PA DATED a Fox?

I can’t even wrap the idea around my head. It’s a foreign thought I’d never considered in my entire life.

“Pa? Were you dating Hope’s aunt?”

The strained features on his face answer my question, but it’s not enough for Hope’s father.

“Of course, he was.” Mr. Fox looks ready to smash my father into the wall. “His lack of respect landed them on the ridge and my sister death.”

“It was an accident.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been there with you. And now your son is taking my daughter to the ridge? I won’t have it! We’re leaving and if your son comes within a hundred feet of the fence line, I will shoot him.” When Mr. Fox reaches for Hope’s arm, she pulls away. “Hope, we’re leaving.”

She laces her fingers in my hand. “I’m not leaving, papa. There is going to be a Wilde and Fox wedding.”

“Over my dead body!”

“I’m about to have a come-apart,” mutters my pa.

“We didn’t bring you here to ask your permission.” Hope takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry Naomi died. I can’t even imagine the pain that must’ve caused, but I can see the pain in Mr. Wilde’s eyes. He’s hurting too. After all these years, he’s still hurting. That’s how much he loved her.”

“Horseshit.”

“Papa, we invited you here to ask you both to put your rivalry aside to be a part of our lives. Together. We’re getting married. We’re having your grandchildren. And if you can’t set aside your differences—” She glances up at me for confirmation. I nod. “—you won’t be a part of our lives. You won’t be a part of your grandchildren’s lives.”

The room falls silent. The rattle of Bucky cleaning the same glasses stop. Kiwi chopping tomatoes for her famous salsa pauses. The hums and haws of the twins is nipped in the bud.

Mr. Fox points at Hope. “You want to marry into this family, it’s your funeral and I will have no part of it.” He storms out the front door of Kiwi’s bar.

Mrs. Fox takes our hands. “He just needs to clear his head.” She rushes out after him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, son.” My pa strides out the front door of Bucky’s side.

My ma tightly wraps her arms around us both. “This will not be how this ends,” she promises before storming out behind my pa like an aggressive bull.

Hope’s tear-filled eyes meet mine. Her head drops into sobs.

“We tried, darlin’.” I press my lips against the top of her hand.

I’m angry.

I’m disappointed.

I’m sadder than all the dead Christmas trees of the world.

“They’re so damn stubborn,” she sobs.

We stand in the bar for too long. Until her tears have subdued. Until my chest is breathable again.

Faye and Wilma are waiting beside us when we part. I don’t let Hope get far. I keep my arm tight around. It’s the only support I can give her.

“Stay at the Quilt House B&B.” Wilma holds up a key to the quaint bed and breakfast the sisters own and operate. “Get a good night’s sleep. Let them get a good night’s sleep.”

I shake my head. “We’re leaving town, ladies. It’s what we agreed on, right?”

Hope nods. “We can’t stay in a town that hates us.”

“Don’t leave,” Faye’s pleading is desperate. But we’ve come to the end.

Shouts outside intensify and lights flash through the weaved bamboo window coverings.

“Ahh, hell!” Bucky limps around the counter in his bar. “Drunken Earl’s likely passed out again. I ain’t cleaning up no puke.”

Kiwi rushes past us. “You ain’t pressure washing the vomit onto my side again either!” She hauls the big old wooden door open. On the other side I see my pa pinned against the hood of the cruiser.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Outside, two cruisers are accompanied by the local towing service.

“Why is papa in the cruiser?” Hope rushes to her mother.

“Nash arrested him for causing a disturbance in a public place.” Mrs. Fox hugs her daughter.

The sheriff reads my pa his rights. It’s hardly comprehensible over my father’s shouting.

I’m preoccupied with the tow truck securing the yolk to my truck. “Hey! What are you doing?”

The bald guy in the towing uniform presses a button and lifts my truck’s front end.

“Hey!”

He doesn’t look at me. “It’s parked illegally.”

“It’s not parked illegally.”

“It is technically parked illegally.” Wilma comes up beside me. “It’s a no-parking zone.”

“Everyone parks here,” I growl.

The tow truck slaps a paper against my chest. “Take it up with Nash.”

Wilma jangles the keys in front of me. “I guess your father is spending the night cooped up with Mr. Fox in a cell and you have no way out of town.”

Why do I get the feeling she likes it this way?