22. Josie
josie
. . .
If someone had told me I would’ve been sitting around a table with Ellis and Lincoln this summer, I would have called them insane.
And yet, here I was… Sitting next to my current fling while my five-night stand from over a year ago watched me with careful consideration.
Obviously, I’d been a fluffy baby bunny murderer in my past life. That was the only possible explanation for this level of torture.
I’d spent a lot of time avoiding everyone over the past week, locking myself in Dad’s office with no one to keep me company but my own thoughts. In fairness, that was likely a horrible idea. I spent most of the time mentally berating myself for digging myself into this hole.
Lennox and Cleo both stopped by frequently, pushing me to talk about the situation with Lincoln, but I didn’t know what to tell either of them. I knew what I wanted, but I was still working up the courage to do it.
Family dinner was a longstanding tradition in the Hayes household: seven o’clock on the dot every Friday. It was passed down from my grandparents, something my grandma had insisted on when Dad was a kid because she said it was the only time she could bring all her rowdy boys inside at the same time.
Ranch life was hard. It kept you busy from sunup till sundown. When I was a girl, there were days I didn’t see my dad until he poked his head in at bedtime, but we could always count on Friday nights.
Mom was usually in charge of Friday dinners, but since she was out of town, that commitment had fallen to Cleo, Lennox, and I. We’d spent most of the late afternoon in the kitchen making Dad’s favorite meal: grilled ribeye with fully loaded baked potatoes and asparagus.
It was not on his approved eating list, but we were keeping that between us.
Ellis sat beside me, his arm resting on the back of my chair. Had I known he was coming, I would’ve made a salad, but a baked potato and asparagus would have to do. He’d been acting strange all week—asking to come out almost every evening to go through Dad’s boxes or just to bring me dinner. I’d declined every offer, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
I knew the reason was because of Lincoln. If they’d never met, Ellis never would’ve stepped up the way he had. But maybe he was noticing the distance between us just like I was.
Over supper, Charles had asked Lincoln more about himself and about the little mountain town he grew up in. Then, Dad had gone and dropped the bomb about my trip last summer, which gave way to a new host of questions—not that I’d told anyone other than my sisters about where I spent my time.
I’d been determined to take that tryst to the grave, keeping it a closely guarded secret that would keep me warm when my bed was cold.
The problem was that I was a shit liar, and Ellis knew that. If he asked me if there was something between Lincoln and me… Well, I didn’t know what I would say.
The logical thing would be to tell him the truth, but it was far more complicated than that. My feelings for Lincoln hadn’t simply vanished; they’d just lied dormant until something—or a specific someone—woke them up again.
Now, my guilty gaze was focused on the man in question sitting across from me at the dinner table. He’d been attentive all night, laughing at my dad’s jokes and asking my sisters about their days. Every interaction he had with my family was genuine. He liked them, and to my quiet joy, they liked him back.
Maybe it would’ve been easier to hate him if his chaps didn’t perfectly hug his wrangler-clad ass. How was anyone supposed to get over that? I certainly wasn’t that strong.
“Thank you for dinner,” Ellis said, interrupting my inappropriate train of thought. He looked down at his plate. “It was thoughtful to make a side I could actually eat.”
Everyone paused, turning to look our way. He forced a smile—one I was sure he thought was polite, but really just looked like he’d swallowed something rotten.
I cleared my throat, wiping the corner of my mouth. “Well, I didn’t know you were coming or I would’ve done something different.”
“What’s wrong with the steak?” Lincoln asked, gaze flitting between Ellis and his plate.
“I’m a vegetarian. I pride myself on my health, and red meat is bad for the heart.”
Lennox’s fork clattered against her plate as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dad swooped in before she could.
“So, Ellis, how’s work going?” my dad asked, passing the baked potatoes to Cleo, who was sitting next to him.
“Work is great, Doug. And we’re seeing great income projection numbers for the ranch this year. Honestly, these clinics you put on? The money practically makes itself. You won’t have to worry about feed in the winter.”
Lincoln and Bishop both rolled their eyes, while Charles narrowed his.
He’d been quiet during dinner whenever work came up. It was more than a sore subject at the moment.
My dad smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s great to hear.”
“Are you already planning one for next year? We need to keep the momentum up,” Ellis said, taking a bite of his baked potato.
For more reasons than one, the fake smile vanished. The missing money was one thing, but Dad’s illness was another. That was the hard truth about keeping secrets. Eventually, they’d need to come out. We’d all kept the extent of Dad’s health under wraps from anyone who didn’t hold a permanent position at this table.
“Well,” my dad said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get through this one first, and then we’ll think about next year.”
Ellis paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “But why? If we start now, you could get some of these same people on the books.”
Cleo and Lennox stared in my direction, willing me to do anything to intervene, but I was momentarily frozen. I didn’t know what to do or say that wouldn’t give away Dad’s health issues. Like I said, I was a shit liar.
“But—”
“I’ll have to stop you boys right there,” I said, touching Ellis’ shoulder. It was clammy, but I hoped he didn’t notice. “Rule number two of the Hayes family dinner code says no talking business at dinner. Just because mom’s out of town doesn’t mean you can throw them out the window.”
Okay, so it wasn’t really a rule per se, but it wasn’t far from the truth. My grandma had always outlawed business talk at the table because it tended to spoil her home-cooked meals. I’d never really known what that meant growing up, but now that I was old enough to recognize the awkward tension in the air, I didn’t blame her.
I noticed Dad’s shoulder sag from the corner of my eye. I had to force myself to keep a smile on my face.
“Sorry, sugar. You’re right,” Dad said, raising his hands. “Don’t tattle on me.”
Cleo bumped her shoulder into his. “I’ll keep your secret, but only if you made those mini pies I love so much for dessert.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my girls.” He pushed up from the table and walked back into the kitchen. Those pies were another of my dad’s secrets from mom and yet another thing we’d keep between us.
The room was silent as he walked away, but it didn’t stay that way very long. “I don’t understand what just happened,” Ellis said, looking around the table. “What was wrong with asking him about the future of the clinics?”
“Let’s just have a good night,” I murmured, picking up my wine glass. I took a long sip, hoping my answer would be enough.
It wasn’t.
Ellis turned toward me, lowering his voice. “How else am I supposed to talk to him about this shit? He rarely comes into town anymore and never returns my calls.”
That was news to me. I didn’t know Ellis had ever been in contact with my dad, especially not about ranch matters.
“Why are you calling him?” I asked. “He isn’t even your client yet.”
“But he will be. My father wants to ensure his clients have a smooth transition whenever he retires.”
“I think the lady is trying to politely ask you to stop pushing the subject,” Lincoln said, narrowing his eyes at Ellis.
“And I’m not retired yet,” Charles said, cutting in. He shifted in his seat, offering an apologetic glance toward the table .
Ellis didn’t listen, he kept pushing. “I don’t see why this is an issue. Don’t you handle his schedule now? Maybe you could?—”
Bishop slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “What part of we don’t talk about business on nights like this,” Bishop began, motioning toward the table, “do you not understand? This right here is family time. We come together and talk about our week and the good going on in our lives, and then we go home.”
Bishop had never liked Ellis. I wasn’t sure what happened between them, maybe he just hated his guts.
“The ranch making money directly affects you, doesn’t it?” Ellis shot back. “It pays your salary and keeps a roof over your head. I’d say that’s an important topic of conversation.”
“Yeah, but we aren’t concerned with money,” Lennox interrupted, sitting back in her chair. “And tonight isn’t about anything other than eating good food with the most important people in our lives. So, maybe you should learn some social cues before I?—”
Ellis shook his head, preparing to say something else, but Dad walked in with freshly warmed pies he’d made over the weekend. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
After two helpings of Dad’s apple pies, it’d taken every bit of effort I had to pull myself from my seat at the table to walk Ellis out while our fathers walked around the yard.
The moment I opened the door, I was hit with a blast of Texas heat. God, it never cooled off here in the summer. Our days consisted of temperatures in the high nineties and low hundreds. In the evening, it was rare to dip into the eighties at all.
The silence between Ellis and I was awkward. I didn’t know what to say that hadn’t already been said. His hands were stuck in his pockets, and he only pulled out to twirl his key ring around his finger.
I hated those fucking keys.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” I said, rocking back on my heels the best I could. Before we walked out the door, I’d slipped into the boots nearest the door. They were big and worn, so they were likely Bishop’s or Dad’s.
“Of course,” he said, his tone sharp. “Wouldn’t have wanted to miss being berated by your family.”
“What?” I asked, laughing. He was joking, right? Things had gotten tense, but berated was a far reach. If anything, he only had himself to blame for what had happened.
Ellis crossed his arms. “The security of not only your future, but the future of this ranch should matter to you.”
I blinked in surprise. “I’m not sure why you think I don’t care? Ellis, we just asked not to talk about it tonight. Why are you mad about that?”
He just turned his head and locked his jaw. “Maybe coming out here was a mistake.”
“Maybe it was,” I said, crossing my arms. “Especially if you’re going to act like this.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at him all night,” he spat. “Or the way he stepped in before Bishop’s fucking outburst.”
“I can’t help what he does, Ellis.”
“Yeah, well, you can damn well stop encouraging him, can’t you?”
Glancing over his shoulder, I saw our dads walking back. “I think it’s time for you to go,” I said, stepping back.
He didn’t say anything else as my father stepped up behind me and wrapped his arm over my shoulder. “Thank y’all again for coming out,” he said, nodding at his friend. “Charles, I’ll call you on Monday.”
Charles nodded, giving us a wave as he got into his car and drove away. Dad said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the white nose in my mind. I didn’t even notice when he walked out toward the barn and left me in the dark.
“ Men ,” I mumbled, turning toward the house. I whipped open the door and stepped into the mudroom. Only, I wasn’t paying attention and tripped over the stupid boots I was wearing.
I braced myself for a hard fall, throwing my hands out in an effort to stop my collision, only I didn’t fall face-first on the floor.
I fell face-first into Lincoln’s arms.
“Woah, there,” he said, looking down at me with light in his eyes. “Watch where you’re going, darlin’.”
His tone was soft and playful, but I wasn’t having it. “Oh, go sit on a cactus,” I said, pulling my arm from his hold. “And don’t call me that.”
The tiny, very rational part of my brain told me I may have been overreacting, but that part was promptly squashed by the chaotic, mentally ill portion that liked to take control.
Lincoln’s stupid, beautiful lips spread into a smile. “As fun as that sounds, I need my boots.”
“Then what’re you waiting for? Get them, and leave.” I waited expectantly, watching as he dropped his gaze to my feet.
No, no, no, no.
“Well…” He blew out a breath. “If you say so.”
Before I could say no, Lincoln scooped me in his arms and sat me on the table in our entryway. I was overtly aware my family was in the living room, only feet away, laughing about something.
Lincoln dropped to his knees, looking up at me as he slowly slid each boot from my feet. Each time he moved, his fingertips lingered along my bare skin longer than was appropriate. I should’ve stopped it, shoved him away, and threw the shoes at his head.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I gripped the table’s edge as he slowly stood and slipped on his boots. My legs spread instinctively as he stepped forward, finding himself between my thighs like he had over a year ago.
What the hell were you doing, Josie?
“Not too mouthy now, are you?” he asked, keeping his voice low. My breathing hitched as he leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he reached behind my head for his cowboy hat.
No, I wasn’t. I had to keep my mouth shut so I didn’t do something stupid like ask him to kiss me.
Or beg him to touch me.
“You thought anymore about what we talked about last week?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “Maybe.”
Lincoln’s fingertips skimmed along my hips. “Mm, I can’t wait to find out what the verdict is.” He stepped back, tipping his hat with a wicked smile. “Night, darlin’. Try not to dream of me.”
And then he walked out the door, leaving me to walk back into a room with my family in soaked panties.