West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(30)

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, Virginia Hart.”

“Okay, that’s cute. Tell me more.” Curiosity is epically piqued.

He grins. “Thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” I counter. “I just like stories.”

“Uh-huh. Before my father met her, he said that the farm lacked heart, and then he found her. So he said she was the heart to his stone, and then he changed it to Heartstone so that no matter how hard things are, we know that there’s always life here. And her heart is what keeps us going.”

“That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” I confess.

“Pop is a bit of a romantic,” he admits.

Of all the things I’ve heard about his father, that’s definitely not one. Still, it’s adorable, and I know that my heart will never be the same after that.

“Girls love a grand gesture,” I say absently. “I bet she was a goner after that.”

Tristan laughs. “Legend has it that she fell in love with him the moment she saw him.”

“And what about him?”

“I think he loved her before they met.”

We keep riding, the beautiful story of his parents’ love fading with each mile and my nausea growing. God, I should’ve stayed home. Mary Lou and her “let’s go have some drinks and dance” night out. It’s never just that. It always ends up being drunken nights and regret-filled mornings.

“I told my friends that I broke up with Jeremy,” I tell Tristan for absolutely no good reason. “Suzanne decided that was worth a shot, and Mary Lou said it was worth four.”

“That sounds like her.”

I turn my head to look at him. “She really is a bad influence.”

“Emmy Jo and I had our hands full with her…” Tristan clears his throat and looks ahead. “Anyway, anytime Mary Lou gives advice, do the opposite.”

I laugh. “I’ll remember that.”

“Honestly, I’ll be shocked if you remember half of tonight.”

“I remember that you danced with me,” I joke.

Although I won’t ever forget it, so maybe the joke is really on me.

“You danced with me. The girl circles.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, she does. You could’ve skipped.”

“As could you.”

This is true. “The second time, though, that was all you.”

He snorts. “That was like ten seconds, and really, it was more like me saving you.”

I roll my eyes. “Semantics. The truth is, we danced together.”

He half laughs while shaking his head. “I’ll deny it until the day I die.”

“I’m sure there’s proof somewhere.”

“Just like there’s going to be proof we’re not the ones vandalizing your property.”

“If you say so…”

Tristan sighs deeply. “You’re going to have to apologize to my entire family when I prove it.”

“If that happens, I’ll do it, and I’ll even make my brothers do it. That’s how sure I am.”

I should probably stop talking since it’ll be a cold day in hell before either of my brothers apologizes to anyone, let alone a Stone.

I’ll at least encourage it.

And I’m sure I’ll be told I’m nuts and need to see the world for what it is.

“I look forward to that day,” Tristan says with a smirk. He knows exactly what I know about that possibility.

I look back out the window and thank my lucky stars that we’re on my road now. At least I can get out of this car and regret all my life choices tomorrow morning.

He starts to make the turn onto my driveway, and I remember that this is Tristan, and he can’t drop me off. “Stop!” I say quickly.

“What?”

“Drop me off here. At the end of the driveway!”

He stops the truck and looks at me, eyes wide for a heartbeat. “You’re kidding. You’re shit-faced. I’m not dropping you off at the end of the damn driveway.”

“Well, you’re not taking me to the door. My brothers were drinking, and God only knows if they’re home. My dad is definitely home and has a shotgun at the ready. You can’t risk it.”

Panic builds. They’ll blow a fuse. It doesn’t matter that Tristan is a good guy. That we have this…truce of sorts. None of that matters to my brothers and definitely not to my father. I already had to fight with them about when my truck broke down—adding a drunken night when I was supposed to drive will be the spark that lights up the inferno.

No. I’m not doing this.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say quickly and then lift the lock on the door and push it open.

I, of course, in my drunken idiocy, do not unbuckle my seat belt as I try to exit the fucking truck and am stuck.

My night is a series of bad decisions.

“For the love of God,” Tristan mutters as I fumble for the button to free myself.