3. Montana
“Mornin’,” I say, climbing out of my truck at the Kettle Kiln and stretching my arms over my head. Archer nods as he walks across the gravel lot and grabs the pressed-tin door, holding it open for me. “You’re such a gentleman.”
“I haven’t had enough coffee for you yet,” my cousin grumbles, but it’s all in good fun. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Aw…don’t be like that,” I say stepping into the space with the white painted walls and hanging green plants. They’d taken out half of the second floor, accentuating the light and openness of the space with vaulted ceilings and making the other half a lofted sitting area.
Nicolette and Karina had done a lot of the work themselves, and they’d done a hell of a job. The make your own pottery and coffee shop hadn’t been open very long but it was already a town favorite.
The transplants from Virginia had made Blackstone Falls their home not more than a year ago. They’d hit the mark with offering customers the chance to really maximize their experience either painting pre-fired mugs or entirely making their own. I’d yet to do either, but still stopped by a couple times a week to support them.
The couple brought a certain kind of energy that was as enthusiastic as it was organic. They’d wooed locals and tourists alike with caffeine, clay, and a whole lot of love. It made me proud, and a little relieved, to see them embracing—enhancing—small-town living instead of trying to make Blackstone Falls something it wasn’t.
Archer grumbles again, bringing me back to the present. His brown hair is a little more unruly than usual and his matching brown eyes are tired. If I were a bettin’ man, I’d say it has something to do with his girlfriend and the fact that they spend the night together more times than not.
“Late night?” I ask, and he grunts but otherwise doesn’t respond aside from the slight twitch of his lips.
Good for him.
I like seein’ him happy.
I just don’t need this cup of coffee like he does. Celeste always has the coffee brewing for Grandad in the morning with enough left for me. Call me spoiled but I like the routine of it.
Like it but don’t need it.
I learned a long time ago that banking on a plan led to either headache or heartache—sometimes both—and a man in my position couldn’t afford to wallow in either.
Life is too unpredictable. Hell, I have to call Hank no less than once a month to pull the tractor out of the mud. It always eats up half a day, but nobody gets hurt and my friends go home with their pockets a little fatter.
Still, it’s just neighbors helpin’ neighbors.
Hank Thayer had been workin’ at the Rusty Fender since getting out of prison more than a decade ago. His wrongful conviction and the ensuing scandal had been the biggest news either of our towns had seen probably ever.
His family was big and loud and easily some of my favorite people on the planet. Frowning, I try and remember the last time I’d been down to his mama’s house for a just-because picnic.
“Well, it looks like the coffee’s a brewin’ and trouble is too.” Karina chuckles, pulling me from my wayward thoughts. “Morning, boys, what can I getcha?” she asks with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes, causing Archer to blush beside me as he clears his throat. Flustering Archer is one of my favorite pastimes too, and I don’t hide my smile as he glowers at me.
“Miss Karina, you are lookin’ lovely today, and I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve changed up your wardrobe choice to gray over black. Bold choice on a Wednesday.”
Karina narrows espresso-colored eyes at me even as her lips twitch. Later in the day, when the sun is higher, the light will pull the gold to mix with the almost-black color. Her skin is a rich caramel, and her dark curly hair meticulously frames her face, landing at her shoulders and drawing my eyes back to her very plain shirt.
“I wanted to mix it up,” she says, following my gaze with a shrug. “Besides, Nicolette is all the color I need.”
And she’s not lying.
Karina’s wife is her complete opposite with blonde hair she usually has tied up into some sort of braid, bright teal eyes that would look unnatural on anyone else, and porcelain skin. While Karina brings a sassier edge, Nicolette is all sunshine with bangles lining her wrists. I have no idea how she manages to keep them out of the clay while working—I’d been covered in the stuff every time the unit came up at school.
“Y’all are adorable.”
“He’s choosing violence today, huh?” she says as she stares around me and pops her hip.
“She’s talking about you,” I stage whisper to my cousin as I elbow him for emphasis.
“Each and every day,” Archer manages and Karina snickers.
“All right,” Karina says, pointing a purple manicured nail at me. “You having your usual?”
“Of course, you have a usual,” Archer says, speaking unprompted for the first time since we walked in.
“What can I say? I’m unforgettable.”
“I was going to say exhausting but…” Archer trails off as Karina bustles around. After placing my order on the counter—a western wrap with homemade salsa on the side and a large coffee with sugar and a dash of cream—Karina turns her focus to Archer. He blinks a couple of times then rattles off a boring black coffee and a bagel. She nods then turns, and I let my gaze sweep over the specials board.
“Is Nicolette still in Virginia?” I ask and Karina hums as she works.
“She’ll be back next week. We finally sold the house, nightmare that was, but she’s spending some time with her parents before she comes home.”
Home.
I know she means home to her but I still love that Blackstone Falls holds that title too.
“Well, make sure you come to the house. I know Celeste and Grandad would love to have you for dinner.”
“That would be really nice,” she says, and it’s perhaps the least sassy thing she’s ever said. I don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider, but I do know what it’s like to fit in and to want to be part of something bigger than yourself.
“Good.” I snatch one of the business cards from the counter while Archer pays for our breakfast and I shove a twenty in the tip jar. “I’ll talk to Celeste and let you know.”
“That would be great, and here,” she says, holding out a white cardboard box with her logo stamped on the top in green ink, “these are Hal’s favorite.”
I don’t have to open it to know that Karina has placed a couple of strawberry muffins inside. We share a secret smile before she wanders off toward the kitchen, and Archer and I finally walk to a small table off to the side.
“Rock and Roll” by Eric Hutchinson plays quietly through the space as we settle in, and I waste no time taking a massive bite of my wrap. I realize my mistake almost instantly, but I’m too committed now, even though this thing is one level down from surface of the sun hot. Archer stares at me in disbelief, his own bagel halfway to his mouth as he watches me try, and fail, to cool down and chew my breakfast.
“There is seriously something wrong with you,” he mumbles and I shrug.
“Coulda been worse,” I say, washing everything down with equally hot coffee.
“But you literally watched her make it. You—” He shakes his head. “You know what? Never mind.”
Snorting and somehow managing not to choke, I decide to move to a safer subject. His girlfriend. “How’s Bea?”
“She’s good.” His smile is tender as a blush creeps up his neck.
Good for him.
“Heard her business has been doin’ real well.” My cousin met his girl at a local vendor event earlier this year. He’d had his jams and canned goods and she had homemade soaps and lotions. Her business, Bea’s Bubbles and Balms, has taken our little town by storm, and she’s already managed to get her products in a lot of the local stores.
I’ve never used goat milk soap but I am happy to support family—and that’s what she is, bein’ with Archer. Family.
“It is but she wants to get some goats, not just source the milk,” he says pointedly at me.
Expectantly.
“Hell no. You find someone else to house those mean fuckers.” My head shakes with a vehemence only those four-legged little demons can bring out in me.
“Oh, come on. You have plenty of room. And she’s going to do most of the work and then pay one of the guys you have to help.”
“No,” I say again even as Archer stares at me. “Brother, I do not want goats. Getting bitten in the ass at eleven was enough for me.”
He snickers and his eyes sparkle at my discomfort. Huffing, I take the last bite of my wrap and ball up the garbage. Sobering, Archer rubs the back of his head with his palm, and I wait like I always do until he’s gathered himself enough to speak because seriously, what could be worse than goats?
“I told her about us—about Sundown Realty.”
Internally, my heart rate slows to a more acceptable rhythm and I shrug, unfazed because I kind of figured. “I trust you.”
Archer opens his mouth and closes it before nodding. “Right. Of course. Well, anyway, she asked if we were looking for someone to run the office front—handle the emails and scheduling for housekeeping and maintenance, streamline the calendar for the rentals or something.”
“You want to hire your girlfriend to manage our secret multimillion-dollar business?” I deadpan as he shifts nervously in his chair. We’ve grown the business over the last several years from a handful of properties to well over a hundred in Blackstone Falls, Clementine Creek, and a couple in the neighboring towns. We’d picked up a good variety of cottages, vacation homes, apartments, and cabins for both the college crowd and tourists alike.
With any luck, we’d be expanding all the way into Nashville within the year, and having Bea on the front line would definitely help us do that.
Slapping my hand against the table makes him jump, and I chuckle. “Dude, that’s your girl. You gotta be like, ‘hell yeah, I want to hire my girl—she’s the best damn woman for the job and she’s going to fucking kill it.’ Seriously, man, have I taught you nothing?”
“I mean?—”
“Grandad always said when you find the girl that makes the sun rise and set, you make her your whole world. You’re her shoulder to cry on and her number one fan. And if you’re pitching her for a job that risks our anonymity when all our dealings have been entirely online or third party, then I need you to give me a little more than or something.”
Grabbing a sugar packet from the container, Archer flicks it at my head with a grin. “You’re an idiot and damn straight she’s the best one for the job. She’s really smart and she’s good with the marketing piece too. You should see her social media—runs circles around us.”
I snort and take a sip of my coffee. “Well, that last part isn’t hard. I like sendin’ memes, not makin’ them.”
“Exactly. She started talkin’ about algorithms and aesthetics and…” He trails off and I don’t have to be a genius to figure out how he got her to stop talking about all those things.
“I’m happy for you.” His eyebrows raise over the lip of his coffee cup, and when he swallows, the sound is audible.
“Thanks.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks down at the butcher-block table and grins before looking up at me. “It’s crazy, right?”
“Being happy? Naw, man, you just hadn’t met the right one.”
“Speaking of the right one…”
I shrug. “I gotta wait and see how it goes. She broke up with her boyfriend not long ago, and I just want to make sure she’s ready before I start something.”
“That’s…very adult of you,” he says as he tries—and fails—to hide a smile with his coffee cup.
“Honestly, I hate this new side of me.”
“No, you don’t,” he says with a laugh and he’s right. I don’t. But things with Ellison Mills have always been the kind of complicated you see in the movies. She had a well-to-do upbringing, and my mama used to swat at me for tracking mud into the house.
“I just want her to be all in, and she can’t be all in with me if she still has feelings for some douchebag in Savannah.”
“How do you know she still has feelings?”
“I don’t, but I can’t take that chance.” My fist rubs at the ache in the center of my chest. “I lost her for a long time, you know? She wasn’t totally gone but she wasn’t there either.” Archer stares at me like he’s tryin’ to figure out a puzzle. He’s never had something like Ellison and I had back then, really not until he got together with Bea.
But Ellison and I have always been something special. She’d been the center of my world for so long it was hard to reconcile the time when she wasn’t. I’d hated every second of the distance between us and every wall erected. We weren’t us, and that’s something that left an irreparable hole in my heart.
“Not that I’m an expert,”—I smirk and he rolls his eyes—“but I think you’re supposed to talk to her. Women like that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think that’s just women. I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a universal rule.”
“Hell if I know,” he mumbles and I can’t help but chuckle. Getting actual words out of Archer has always been a trial in patience, but seeing him open up over the last few months has brought me a kind of joy I didn’t know existed.
Despite most people’s best intentions, there’s always a judgment when you meet men like us. Archer is quiet and reserved—often shy—and yet he’s cast as standoffish or rude, while I’m just the guy lookin’ for a good time who can’t take anything seriously. Sometimes I think it’s easier than people thinking I’ll never make anything of myself. I’ve maintained and even expanded the success of the farm and, with the man sitting across from me, managed to build a profitable empire in Sundown Realty.
We’re more alike than most people think, shyness aside, but that’s a battle for another day.
I take a sip of my coffee and stare out the window before returning my attention to Archer. “Hire your girlfriend and let her pick the storefront. She can furnish it.” My mouth opens and closes as my brows furrow. “Just make sure it looks manly—like us but you know, not us.”
“That makes literally no sense.”
“Sure it does. We want it rustic and country and shit without having every available wall covered in shiplap.”
“And you just trust Bea to do this?” he asks in disbelief. I get it—I do—but he’s never seen himself the way I do. He’s my cousin, a title I gave him based on love and respect rather than blood, and that means something to me.
“I trust you. You love her.” I pause and wait for him to dispute it. He doesn’t, so I continue, “So by extension I love and trust her, and when you’re ready to make it official, I’ll call her family just the same.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever truly understand you.”
I shrug and school my expression even as I feel the tips of my ears heat. “Life’s too short to be upset over things that don’t matter. Love hard, live big, and find what brings you joy.”
“Like you pining over Ellison?”
“I still love her. I always have, and her being in Savannah didn’t change that. I just never let myself really fall for her the way we both deserve.”
I meet his gaze and watch as his lips part the smallest amount. I’ve shocked him almost as much as I’ve shocked myself saying that last part out loud. But no one who truly knows me can look at me and not know I’d do damn near anything to have what my grandparents had.
Sure, my parents are happy and still in love but it’s different. It’s generational. It’s the stories Grandad told me with a glass of sweet tea on the porch andNanyelling her version from behind the screen door.
It’s the love and affection that comes from having nothing and building something with your bare hands that sustains more than just a moment in time. It’s knowing that the land brings me comfort and peace. It’s knowing I’ll live and die by the land.
And it’s the hope to love one woman for the rest of my days.
One woman in particular.
“You all right?” Archer asks, and I have to shake my head to clear the daydream.
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“Is it about getting goats? Because I’m sure Bea can help facilitate that in between finding and furnishing a storefront.”
“I will disown you,” Iwarn,but I’m not joking and he knows it. Or he should.
His lips twitch as he pushes back from the table and stands. “No goats—got it.”
“I’m serious, man.” My whole body shudders at the memory of being chased around the paddock as a kid and being thankful I could clear the top of the fence in one leap.
He clasps me on the shoulder as we discard our now empty cups and head out into the parking lot with a wave at Karina. The air is already heavy, but it feels like home and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Sitting in my truck, I watch in my rearview mirror as Archer pulls out and disappears from view. It’s already a good day, and as I flip on the radio, I can’t help the smile that stretches over my face.
“Chicks Dig It” by Chris Cagle plays, and hell if I can argue with that.