Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Autumn
Last night, after a short, hushed conversation with Tate and Myles, Gideon had grown ever quieter. We’d had amazing sex after everyone had left, and we’d both had way too much fun with those ridiculous suspenders, but I hadn’t asked him what was bothering him. I didn’t think he’d lash out like last time, but it was unlikely he’d tell me.
This morning, instead of waking up to an erection pressing against my ass, the other side of the bed was empty. Frowning, I rolled up. The bedroom door was shut, and it was after nine. He’d let me sleep in?
I got out of bed, cleaned up, brushed my teeth, and found a pair of fluffy emerald-green leggings to wear with a thick, gold knit sweater that covered my ass. Though I was less concerned about covering my butt when Gideon seemed to like having it in his face.
Tingles spread through my body like they usually did when my mind wandered to sex with Gideon. I ignored them and pulled my hair into a loose bun on top of my head.
I found my husband at the kitchen table in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, looking like he could command a boardroom from the weight rack at the gym. The candy from last night had been cleaned up. All the types Chance hadn’t liked were in the Halloween bowl by the door. I’d been able to hand several pieces out before I’d shut off the porch light to end trick-or-treating, but I had half a bowl left.
Gideon was staring at the computer screen and he’d moved the chair next to him out. Sprinkles was sprawled on that chair like she’d graciously given up the fight to sit on his lap.
“Morning,” I said. I hovered a few feet away. I didn’t want him to think I was snooping on what he was working on, but also because we didn’t do kisses good morning. We fucked. I curled into him before we went to sleep, but he didn’t press kisses into my hair. He didn’t hug me just because. If we touched, it was foreplay.
For the last week, I hadn’t questioned it. I enjoyed the hell out of the orgasms I was getting and seeing Gideon was a giant bonus. But... the intimacy was lacking, and really, there was no reason for it to be present. Didn’t mean I didn’t wish for it, but perhaps having another small line drawn was a good, constant reminder of what our arrangement was—convenient.
“Morning.” He glanced over. His gaze raked down my body, leaving a trail of smoldering arousal, then went back to the screen.
“Did you eat yet? ”
“No. I’m not hungry.”
“I shouldn’t be hungry. I think I ate half the candy aisle before bed.” I tried to keep it light, but a part of me was feeling a little dismissed.
His brow remained furrowed as he stared at his screen. He had to be catching up on work. He never mentioned friends. Even with Taya, he’d mentioned a casual, very occasional connection that sounded more functional than emotional. He was alone, but for a little while, he had me. I didn’t like seeing him disturbed and locking it away.
I folded my arms, hugging myself. The urge to cross to him and nuzzle his hair was strong. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but do you think you should?” I crept a step closer. “Something from last night is bothering you. Was it Tate? Something he said?”
I hadn’t needed to eavesdrop to know Gideon and Tate had gone a round about the sale, but they’d acted like they’d come to a temporary truce. Gideon had sat next to me as I’d laughed with the kids and helped count and sort their haul for the night.
He tapped out of the screen on his computer and reclined in his seat. “Everything Tate said, yes, but that’s nothing new.”
His gaze shifted to beyond me. I looked over my shoulder. The kitchen sink.
I tried to picture what he was seeing. The dirty glasses from last night hadn’t been put in the dishwasher because the washer needed emptying first. By the time my family had left, it’d been late, and not only by the kids’ standards. When faced with going to bed with Gideon and his talented tongue or doing dishes, there would always be one clear winner .
He didn’t speak. His phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen. Then he put the phone facedown on the table. He stayed quiet a few more moments.
Okay then.
I went for the fridge. He wasn’t going to talk, and it was none of my business.
“I want to show you something,” he said. “Let me get dressed.”
“I haven’t eaten yet. Can I pack something to take with us? Or are we going somewhere with food there already?”
“No food.” He closed his laptop, gave Sprinkles a little scratch, and rose. “Pack whatever you’d like.” He brushed past me on his way to the bedroom, leaving a cold draft behind him.
The cat got attention, but I didn’t.
I shouldn’t take it personally, something was clearly bothering him, but the lingering hurt wouldn’t listen. I busied myself with breakfast and made a couple of quick peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had them packed into little baggies by the time he reappeared in the kitchen, dressed in the country-boy style that went straight to my libido. He even had a ball cap tucked on his head.
When his gaze landed on the peanut butter and jelly still sitting out, he blanched. “I hope you didn’t make one for me.”
I held up a sandwich bag. The one I’d made for him.
“I can’t stand PB and J.”
“Oh.” Crestfallen, I dropped the baggie onto the table. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Shit. It’s not a big deal.”
I wasn’t so sure .
He scrubbed a hand down his face and clenched his finely stubbled jaw. “Are you ready?”
“Um, sure.” I left the sandwiches behind.
This wasn’t the normal, confident Gideon. The only thing I’d seen shake him was the talk about babies. He’d been around a ton of kids last night. Was there a link?
I loaded into the car. When he pulled out of the garage, I dug my sunglasses out. The direction he went was toward his dad’s place.
I never tired of this drive. The landside might be different shades of brown instead of green, but with the blue sky and wispy white clouds, it was still gorgeous. The mountains in the background were already snow-tipped, but the trees remained a dark green to add a pop of color.
His family’s land was a lot like the portion Daddy had gifted me. I hadn’t shown Gideon yet, and I wasn’t going to bring it up today. The idea of taking him out there seemed like rubbing salt in his emotional wounds.
I wished my brothers would change their minds, but Hank didn’t seem like he would.
We passed the turn for the house. I craned my head to look back, but I didn’t ask where we were going. We were still on James property.
He slowed, eventually turning off the road onto a little grass patch by a fence. The tire tracks continued on the other side, following the adjacent fence line over a rolling hill.
“I’ll get the gate.” I had my hand on the door handle when he curled his fingers around my forearm.
“No. I got it.”
I had never been the lone passenger and sat out opening the gate. He got out and sauntered to the chain holding the gate shut. His big body bent over, working on loosening the metal hooks. He looked like he belonged. A born-and-raised country boy, which he was. Did he realize how easily he slipped back into the role he’d been raised doing?
When he climbed back in, the smell of cold sunshine followed him.
“We’re going to get snow soon,” I murmured, more to make any sort of conversation.
“Yeah. It’s November now.” The overtones were ominous.
It’s November now.
Kind of like Game of Thrones and their winter tagline. November was here. Bad things were coming.
He left the gate open since there were no cattle in the pastures. We bumped over the hill. Up ahead, a small drop-off loomed. The tracks veered to the left, but Gideon pulled up parallel to the small crevice in the land.
A creek had slowly carved its way through this shallow draw to drain into what would likely be a pond at the lowest point until the countryside swooped back up. The pond would probably be as dry as the creek bed. We hadn’t had a lot of rain this fall, but it’d be a good pasture to turn the cattle out in for the early summer. Winter runoff would fill the pond. A nature-made water source.
My brothers could expand Bailey Beef and utilize the pastures that weren’t farmland. If Gideon got the property, would he do the same? Would he leave all the decisions up to a faceless ranch manager while he never stepped foot on Percival for another twenty-five years?
I was about to tell him it was really pretty out here when he got out of the car. The hill we’d crested was behind us and blocked the road. It looked like there was no civilization for miles, and truthfully, there wasn’t much. Another ranch bordered the field on the other side of this one, and if Gideon could go straight through, he’d reach his dad’s house, but I doubted the path would handle a vehicle.
I climbed out. “Did you used to ride horses to get out here? Or four-wheelers?”
His back was to me as he looked over the crevice. He didn’t reply.
I tucked the hurt away as I came to a stop next to him. My soft gasp carried away on the wind. The other side dropped lower than where we were standing, and on the edge was a neat little white cross. A bouquet of dried flowers shook in the breeze.
Jenni James had died when she’d rolled her snowmobile.
I put my fingers to my mouth. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. “Oh, Gideon. I’m so sorry.”
He propped his hands on his hips and aimed his gaze at his boots. “She died in November.”
Would he shrug me off if I tried to hug him? He vibrated with leave me alone energy.
I gave in. If he pushed me away, so be it, but he shouldn’t be on an emotional island right now. He likely hadn’t had many shoulders to cry on when he was younger. I wound my arms through his and around his waist. It was like embracing a wooden pole. A breath later, he wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t have to look up to know his gaze was stuck on that white cross.
“He set the closing date for the month we lost her.” Grief outlined his every word .
“I’m sorry.”
I felt him nod more than I saw it. “It’s no less than I should’ve expected.”
I kept my cheek tucked against his strong chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, but even that sounded mournful under my ear. He was entwining himself in his pain. Had he ever processed his emotions, or had he locked them away? Had he considered that others around him were processing their own gut-wrenching feelings?
“Can I play devil’s advocate?” I asked.
Tension radiated through him. “As long as you’re ready to hear me disagree.”
“The first thing I wonder is if he has his own grief journey.” I tipped my face up to him. His gaze didn’t soften. “That’s what the funeral called it when Daddy died. Our individual grief journey. I would’ve rolled my eyes if it hadn’t resonated so deeply with me.”
His hold around me tightened. I pressed my cheek back against his chest.
“Like Wynter,” I continued. “She couldn’t be around when Daddy was at his sickest. It was too much like sitting in that car waiting and knowing our parents were dead. The way she avoided the house was hard for my brothers to understand. It wasn’t hard for me.” Because I’d been in that same car. “It makes me wonder... maybe in a way that doesn’t make sense to us, or at all, but for your dad... I wonder if it’s his way of respecting what she left him with.”
He went rigid again. “She would not think he was respecting her.”
“I’m throwing it out there. People don’t always do what makes sense when they’re hurting. I see it in the kids, and honestly, I don’t think we grow out of it like we think we do.”
“What do you see in the kids?”
“The ones who hurt the most lash out the hardest—at others or themselves.”
His stomach clenched. He was struggling, but he also wasn’t trying to leave. Did it surprise him to think that his dad was probably still destroyed about his mom?
“Have you ever...” His chest expanded with his inhale. “Did you ever go back to where it happened?”
I didn’t have to ask him what “it” was. Or where. “Yes. All of us went when Summer got her license. Mama used to take each of us aside and ask if we needed to visit our parents’ graves or the site. We all said no.” My laugh was dry. “But one night when I was, gosh, fifteen, we were all helping Wynter through a storm—she hates them. I mean, none of us liked them after that night, but it’s a thing with her, you know? Anyway. Summer had the idea. It’s twenty miles away, in pretty rural territory, because we were out camping. We never told Mama.”
“Why?” He started stroking my shoulder.
“Who can say. Maybe we thought she’d say no. Or maybe we were scared we would crash and break the Baileys’ hearts. Sometimes, I think she would’ve offered to come with us, to drive us even, but we wanted—needed—for it to be a sisters’ thing. As far as I know, that was the only time any of us have been there.” Once was enough, and none of us could probably explain why. I looked up at him. “Is this the first time you’ve returned?”
“No,” he said softly. “I used to come here a lot as a kid. Dad lost his shit once when he found out I took the four-wheeler—I think he was actually scared the same thing would happen to me—so after that, I had to ride Cray-Cray.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “That was Mom’s horse. I heard her tell Dad once that his real name was Crazy Bastard, but by the time I was ready to ride, he was old and mellow.”
“I’ve known a few animals that could be called Crazy Bastard.”
“This is the first time I’ve been here since I left home. I used to sit out here for a while and just wonder...”
He didn’t have to tell me what went through his head. The what-ifs.
What if she’d survived? What if nothing had happened? What if he had died instead? His dad? And the questions. How would things be different? Would they be better? How could life be worse when the people you loved most were gone? I’d had similar thoughts.
In my case, my sisters and I had been placed in an excellent home and the Baileys were now our family. We’d become Baileys. We’d only kept our names because we’d had so little left of our parents, and there’d been a ton of changes already. In Gideon’s case, he knew that things would have been better with his mom. He’d have been happier. His dad would’ve been healthier.
I rubbed his back. “I have a blanket in the back of the car. Let me grab it. We can stay a while.”
“Don’t you have to restock the bar and work tonight?” His expression was tight, like he was afraid I’d say oops, you’re right .
“That’s one of the perks of being one of the owners. I can stock whenever the hell I want.”
Gideon
We’d had to give up sitting outside. If we weren’t moving, it was too chilly out to sit on a blanket on the ground.
I swung the car around and opened the hatch. She laid the seats down. I was sitting up, reclining against the front seat. She was curled into my side.
We weren’t having sex. This was full-on cuddling. Something we only did in the dark of her bedroom. Something I otherwise never did. With Autumn, I could have her plastered all over me for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too.
A few minutes ago, I’d gotten a surprising text from Tate. It wasn’t the call I wanted, but at least it hadn’t been Taya. She kept leaving me messages to call her. If what she had to say couldn’t be texted or emailed, I didn’t need to hear it. I had to keep things professional.
I showed Autumn the message.
Tate: We’re doing grid moves this week. If you think you can still stay upright on a horse, we could use a hand.
“Grid moves?” I asked Autumn. “Is that a new term?”
“I don’t know. Tate started using it when he took over. He’s got books for his books.”
“When you say things like that, I feel like Tate and I could actually get along.”
She giggled. “You’d either be best friends or mortal enemies. Do you know how he and Scarlett got together? ”
“He demanded she date him?”
“He agreed to the local bachelor auction fundraiser.”
I’d have loved to see him paraded in front of a bunch of women and sold off, but Autumn’s tone made it sound like the fundraiser was a light, fun time. “Since when does Bourbon Canyon have a bachelor auction?”
“I don’t recall when it started, but I knew Scarlett had a thing for Tate. Summer and I suspected Tate felt the same. Scarlett was Chance’s fourth-grade teacher, so they knew each other.”
“So you encouraged Scarlett to bid on him?”
She shook her head, her smile mischievous. It was one of my favorite looks on her. “We invited her to the auction, and we bid without telling her it was her name we were bidding under.”
“You bought your brother for your friend?”
She grinned. “The rest is history. All of us pitched in. Summer had to bid crazy high. He was a hot commodity.”
Instead of being disgruntled at how amazing everyone thought Tate was, I chuckled. An entire family pooling money to help their loved one find love.
What would it be like to have a big family like that? To have all that support when things went to shit? To have someone to celebrate with during the good times?
College graduation had been just another day, only one without classes. I’d had no one to tell when I’d gotten my first real job. And when I’d landed the role of Silver Casino and Hotel CEO, I’d treated myself to a dinner out. Then I’d gone home alone.
The emptiness inside me turned restless. I was married into that same family, but I doubt they’d celebrate me. “Are you going to buy a significant other for Teller and Tenor?”
“We might have to.” She brushed the backs of her fingers over my cheek. “Are you going to help my brothers move cattle on Monday?”
“I’m curious to see if they plan to get me trampled and call it an accident.”
“That’s dark.” Yet she was grinning. “You might have to dust off those country-boy skills to keep up.”
“They’ll keep up,” I growled. It’d been more than a few years, but fencing had come back like I’d been doing it around Silver my entire adult life.
“I wish I could see it.”
“I’ll just be another guy on a horse.”
“You’re not just any guy.”
When she said shit like that, my chest threatened to puff up. She didn’t drop superficial compliments on me like other people had my whole career. When she said something, she meant it.
My wife was generous, realistic, and honest. Traits that’d make returning to work difficult.
A few strands of her hair escaped her bun. I let them slip through my fingers. The color was bright against the bronzed skin of my hands. “Why can’t you witness me be a superhero cowboy?”
“The fourth- and fifth-grade music programs are this week. I usually help, and now I’m on the hook because their students wanted to do skits at the last minute.”
“They guilt-tripped you?” I asked lightly.
“You could say that. Scarlett and Joseph aren’t upset, but I said I’d help. Joseph would help anyway, but since he helped me, I owe him.” She hooked my hand and threaded her fingers through mine. “I’ll miss you being a cowboy, but you have to promise me something.”
Sitting with her, across from the place my mom had died and where my dad must still stop by and pay his respects, I was ready to promise her the world.
“If Mama offers to cook for everyone tomorrow night, you need to stay and then bring a plate home for me.”
“How do you know I’ll be invited?”
“She’ll make sure you’re there. In her eyes, you’re family.”
My heart constricted and pain radiated out from my ribs. I wasn’t family. I only had Dad and he’d never been there.
But he had tried . . .
I shook the thought off. He wanted to foster a relationship and I wanted him to get his head out of his ass. The Baileys were my in-laws for only another couple of weeks.
My gaze landed on that white cross and the flowers that weren’t very old. A tangle of emotions swelled in my chest. Dad had never talked about Mom after she’d died, and I didn’t speak with him enough to know if he did now. My grandparents had been gone for years. Dad was the only one who knew where Mom had died and would care enough to maintain the cross and flowers.
Was Autumn right? Was this sale a way for him to purge the grief he’d been hanging on to? Those emotions that had driven him to drink? He had AA, but then, after every meeting, he went home to an empty house that used to be filled with love and family.
He’d promised Mom ’til death do you part. After that, he’d had nothing to hang on to. I hadn’t been enough then, and I wasn’t sticking around now.