Chapter 2 #2
“Noted. Monty, make it a double. Please and thank you,” I encourage the bartender, reveling in the small smile he sends me, knowing I’m playing a dangerous game.
I’m not sure why I expected him to argue. All he does is laugh, and it makes me want to disobey him even more. “Not easily convinced, I see.”
Word through the grapevine is that Stetson owns a shit ton of land in Texas and is known to be the most eligible bachelor in cattle ranching, causing every flight attendant with a vagina at Seascape to beg to be the woman who locks him down.
Rest assured, she isn’t me.
Supposedly, he flies through the Miami airport a lot. I just haven’t seen him, likely because I’m always in the air. “What gave it away? Don’t tell me it’s my immunity to a rich man’s sparkle?”
He has yet to turn away from me, and I find that oddly comforting. My body language shows him I’m not interested in whatever charade he’s trying to play here.
Or maybe he’s not looking to play a game at all. Maybe he just enjoys the company of women. Whatever it is, it’s not my place to know.
“That’s not me,” he mumbles, and I hear the restraint in his voice. Like it was hard to admit, and something he’s not proud of.
“Then who are you? Because right now, all I see is a man who not only tried to interfere with my well-earned drink, but has also given me no reason as to why he’s still sitting here, chatting with the help.”
I study him carefully, and for a split second, the disguise drops, revealing more vulnerability than I guarantee Stetson lets anyone see.
His blue eyes look tired, and I know he’s likely seen a lot of things and experienced more than most men his age.
But that exhaustion only enhances how beautiful he is.
“I never did like that term,” he blows out. “You ladies work hard, and again, I’m sorry Clay acted like that. And as for who I am…I think I’m still trying to figure that out. Even at my age.”
“What could you possibly have to figure out? You’ve got it all. The money. The jet. The women. The people. The resources. I’m not finding the problem here.”
Stetson peers at me with determination. “You cater to private flights a lot, yes?” he asks me, and I nod. “So, tell me, then. When was the last time you flew with a wealthy client who smiled and laughed? And I’m not talking about some fake shit to save face.”
I think about his question, but it doesn’t take much effort. “I’m not sure I ever have.”
Most flights are formal and consist of meetings I need to be out of earshot for. The only time I’m summoned is when they want something or need to complain.
“My point exactly. Money and things do not equal happiness, Cove. I love my job, and I’ve worked hard to build this life for myself.
The ranch is my home. But when I lie my head down at night, I’m not fulfilled.
It’s a feeling I search for with every direction I lead myself in.
I’ve seen what dependence on wealth for happiness can do to someone, and I want nothing to do with it.
So, yes. I’m still trying to figure out who I am with the wealth that I have.
That’s just an added perk in my life. It’s what I do with that wealth that makes me different. ”
I was not expecting that. An answer so vulnerable and honest.
“I respect that,” I tell him before taking a sip of my martini.
“It takes a lot to be different in our world. I only ever see the worst sides of it, which makes me more cynical than I’d like to be.
But I hope for your sake, you figure that out.
Become who you want to be. Even as an old man.
” I smile, attempting to lighten the conversation.
I don’t want to dive deep into the personal with him.
He huffs, shaking his head solemnly. “I guess time will tell, huh?”
“You make being rich sound so fun,” I admit cautiously, partially joking and partially not. “What’s the worst part? Because from my point of view, the cons list seems microscopic.”
We have less than an hour until boarding, and this was supposed to be my time to disassociate until it’s back to work. But something about his response and the conflict in his voice makes me think he needs someone to just listen.
Monty offers to replenish my drink, but I decline, knowing I’ve reached my max to work efficiently and clearheaded.
“Being the person everyone expects me to be gets really fucking exhausting.” I swing to face him, knowing exactly how to respond.
“But this is the life you wanted, is it not?” I counter.
He nods. “Coleson Ranch was my late father’s. He passed it on to me. It’s much more than a job for me, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t come at a cost.”
I was wondering if that was the case. I admire the hustle. There’s sacrifice with everything. My life is a walking testimony of that.
“Pretty big role to fill. I can’t imagine how much of a weight that came with. How does one become so wealthy as a cattle rancher, anyway?”
A smirk crests his lips. “You’d be surprised. I own over eight hundred thousand acres of private property on Coleson Ranch. Leasing that out alone sets me up to live well above my means for the rest of my life. And that’s just a portion of what I do.”
I realize I know nothing about Southern living.
“Can’t say we have jobs like that in the city.” I smile just thinking about a cattle farm in Miami. We live two entirely different lives.
Stetson looks at me like he wants to know more, but doesn’t fish for details. “I am really surprised I haven’t seen you before. I mean, I know Alyssa usually flies with me, but I figured I’d have at least met you a time or two.”
“Maybe we have and just don’t—”
“I would have remembered.”
I shouldn’t feel butterflies over his forwardness. His words of kindness.
Why is he being so kind to me?
“Yeah, well, I have regular clients I typically fly with, too. Makes sense. And besides, this was a one-time job.”
“That’s a shame,” he mutters, his voice low.
I feel his eyes searing through me. I don’t look at him, but face forward and stare into the shelves of liquor bottles like they’ll speak for me. It would be much easier if Stetson Cole were a royal asshole and easy to ignore.
But he seems like a genuinely nice guy, and that’s posing a serious threat right now. I’m physically unable to ignore him. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to.
“Has anyone ever told you how stunning your eyes are?”
Oh, he’s smooth.
“Can’t say they have,” I say, shrugging as I turn to face him again. I can’t decide if I want to be front and center to his watchful eye, or completely out of sight.
Wrong move, Cove. Wrong fucking move.
“Brown…” I draw out, and my voice sounds strained. I’m fighting for my life over here while Stetson gazes at me with perfect ease, like he never wants to look away. “Brown isn’t really an eye-catching color.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re very wrong, Cove. Cognac is pristine. It’s rich, warm, and inviting. A fucking indulgence.”
What on God’s green earth is happening right now?
My body is on fire, and the man isn’t even touching me. It’s his words that sing praises across my skin. I can’t handle this right now.
It’s obvious I’m craving a dirty compliment like never before. Except, nothing about his compliment was dirty. It was sweet. But my mind is horribly misguided, thinking he asked which tit I prefer be sucked first.
“I never did like cognac,” I retort, hoping he’ll stop complimenting me and we can move on from this conversation. I should just get up and leave.
Not like I won’t see him on his flight home. I’ve got another two hours to wait on him and dickwad.
A velvety chuckle escapes his lips, and it’s when Stetson’s massive hand lands on top of the bar that my body freezes in place. It’s huge. Likely bigger than the circumference of my face, corded with thick veins and calluses.
I swallow and wait. Wait for his words to do more damage than good.
I’m already starting to break, and goddamn it, I can’t.
I don’t want to wonder about this guy. To see him as the better of two evils.
But I can’t look away from the working of his hand as he swirls the condensation from his glass between the tips of his fingers while he speaks.
“I really wish you did. I haven’t been able to look elsewhere since we met. ”
“Some women might say that’s kind of creepy, Stetson,” I tease, and I’m well aware I’m deflecting. It’s what I do.
“Maybe that’s why it feels necessary to tell you. Because I know you don’t find it creepy. You’re different.”
If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be a billionaire.
“Look, I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but it isn’t going to work with me. We board in”—I check my watch—“less than fifty minutes, and I really need to get the cabin ready for takeoff.”
“How can I see you again?”
Persistent millionaire, I see. “You can’t.” I smile.
Is Stetson devilishly handsome? Yes. Could I imagine him fucking my brains out and me thanking him for it after? Also, yes. But I refuse to indulge even for a second in another rich suitor just because he compliments me.
He lives in Texas—states away from Florida. Maybe my fear comes from worrying that if I have him once, I’ll only want him again and again. Or that he’ll be another disappointment added to the list.
And for the sake of the promises I’ve made to myself, denying him is for the best.
Opening the flap of my purse, I grab a twenty and place it on the bar top for Monty, sending him a wave of gratitude.
I stand and finally spin to face Stetson, who’s now standing, or should I say towering over me.
I like to consider myself tall. I’m five eight and wear heels on the regular, putting me close to six feet.
But heaven help me, Stetson makes me feel so small. Like I’d fit in the palm of those giant, veiny hands.
“Thank you for the drinks,” I tell him confidently, pushing my shoulders back to appear composed. Inside, I’m tripping over my own heartbeat.
I expected something off-putting or an objection of some sort from him, but all he does is nod before placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
“I’ll see you on board,” he murmurs in my ear before leaving me idle, lost in the confusion of my own actions.
I should have denied the flight.