Chapter 2
Xavier
It was raining when the plane touched down in Amarillo, it was raining when I rented the SUV, and it was still raining when I finally saw the sign stating that I was Entering Sagebrush. Population? Four thousand cows, sixteen hundred tumbleweeds, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree.
Sagebrush didn’t look much different than it had during my December visit. The streets were still mostly empty, the entire town was about a half a mile long, and nothing had been updated since the fifties. However, things were a bit greener now, so that was a plus.
My earlier trip to Sagebrush had barely given me a glimpse of the place.
I’d flown in late one night and didn’t get into town until nearly midnight.
Lucas put me up in the main house, and we had breakfast in the morning before touring the ranch.
After talking about the wedding for a couple of hours, which was all I had time for, I headed back to the airport to catch a flight back to New York.
Part of me wondered why I’d bothered to make the trip at all.
And now that I was seeing Sagebrush at a slower pace and in the daylight… well, it didn’t give me a lot of hope. Dreary, decrepit, and definitely vintage. But I guess Lucas was right. It wasn’t dusty.
I drove slowly down Main Street, which was literally the only street that mattered, squinting through the rain-streaked windshield.
A hardware store. A post office that looked like it might collapse if someone sneezed too hard.
Dolly’s Diner, with its neon sign flickering in the gray afternoon light.
A feed store. And that was basically it.
No boutiques. No wine bars. No artisanal anything.
I’d known what I was getting into, theoretically. But theory and practice were two very different things, and right now practice was looking pretty fucking bleak.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder. Lucas, probably wondering where I was.
I’d texted him when I landed, but that was over an hour ago.
The drive from Amarillo had taken longer than expected—turns out GPS doesn’t account for torrential downpours and me driving like a terrified grandmother on unfamiliar country roads.
I grabbed the phone at a red light. Well, the only traffic light in town, and it was probably more decorative than functional given that I hadn’t seen another car in ten minutes.
Me: Almost there. Did Texas order this weather special for my arrival?
His response came immediately.
Lucas: Mother Nature’s way of welcoming you. The creek’s going to be gorgeous for photos though. Turn left at the feed store, ranch is 3 miles out
Left at the feed store. Of course. Because actual street names would be too civilized. Maybe I should’ve gotten a cow navigator.
I followed his directions, leaving behind what little civilization Sagebrush had to offer.
The road turned from cracked asphalt to gravel, and my rental SUV bumped along through puddles that looked deep enough to require a boat.
Rain hammered against the roof, and I white-knuckled the steering wheel, wondering if this was how people died in rural Texas—drowned in a ditch somewhere between nowhere and nothing.
But then the landscape opened up, and even through the rain, I had to admit it was.
.. not terrible. Rolling hills stretched out on either side, covered in that impossibly green grass Lucas had mentioned.
Mesquite trees dotted the pastures, their branches dark against the gray sky.
And in the distance, I could see the ranch.
It was a sprawling collection of buildings that looked far more impressive than I’d remembered from my brief December visit.
The main house was a large, two-story structure with a wraparound porch and actual architectural character.
Not my style, obviously, but I could appreciate the craftsmanship.
To the left were several new cabins arranged in a semi-circle, each one looking cozy and well-maintained.
To the right was what had to be the barn, massive and red with a fresh coat of paint.
It was exactly what you’d picture when someone said, “Texas ranch.”
I pulled up the long driveway and killed the engine, staring out at the property. This was going to be home for the next month. Four weeks of fresh air and open spaces and absolutely nothing to do after sunset. Or before, really.
The front door of the main house burst open, and Lucas came sprinting out into the rain, arms waving like I might somehow miss him.
I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him run toward the car, his dark hair already plastered to his forehead, that ridiculous grin on his face that I’d missed more than I wanted to admit.
I grabbed my jacket and braced myself before opening the door. The rain hit me immediately, cold and relentless, soaking through my clothes in seconds.
“Xavier!” Lucas crashed into me with a hug that nearly knocked me over, not caring that we were both getting drenched. “You made it!”
“Barely,” I shouted over the downpour, hugging him back fiercely. “This fucking weather, Lucas. Is this normal?”
“Spring storms!” He pulled back, still grinning. “Come on, let’s get you inside before you melt.”
“I don’t melt, I just get very expensive water damage,” I said, but I was already following him toward the porch.
We made it up the steps and under the cover of the wrap-around porch, both of us dripping puddles onto the wood.
I pushed my soaked hair back from my face and looked at my best friend, really looked at him for the first time in months.
He looked good. Better than good, actually.
There was something different about him, something settled and content that I’d never seen during our New York days.
“You look happy,” I said, and meant it.
“I am.” His smile softened. “God, it’s good to see you, X. A whole month together! I can’t believe it.”
“A whole month of me critiquing your life choices and complaining about the lack of decent coffee,” I reminded him.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “Come on, let me show you to your cabin. We fixed up the nicest one just for you.”
“My cabin?” I glanced back toward the cluster of buildings I’d seen from the driveway. “I thought I’d be staying in the main house.”
“You could, but I figured you’d want your own space. Privacy, your own bathroom, room to spread out all your wedding planning materials.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Plus, Beau and I can get loud.”
“Oh God, please stop.” I held up a hand. “Fine. Cabin it is. As long as it has running water and electricity, I’ll survive.”
“We’re not that rural,” Lucas laughed, opening the front door. “Come on, your bags can wait. I want you to meet Beau properly.”
I followed him inside and immediately understood why Lucas had fallen in love with this place.
The main house was warm and inviting, all exposed wood beams and comfortable furniture that actually looked lived-in rather than staged.
A fire crackled in a new-looking stone fireplace that dominated one wall, and the smell of something delicious wafted from what had to be the kitchen.
“Mabel’s already got dinner going,” Lucas said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Frank’s probably out in the barn bossing the staff around.” He gave me a small grin. “Well, he’s probably just yacking their ears off, to be honest. The man loves to talk. I imagine Jack is with him.”
“That’s right, I forgot you two had a live-in maid.”
Lucas burst out laughing. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She’s the mama bear of the family.”
“I remember you being so independent back in the city,” I said, shaking my head. “You didn’t even want family. And now here you are, a big ranch, a thriving business, and a whole gaggle of people to get up in your business.”
“Honestly,” Lucas sighed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s the best. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Before I could ask more, a figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
He was tall, blonde, and built like he could bench press a small car—the man Lucas had rightfully fallen head over heels for.
Beau Turner. He was wearing jeans that had real, live dirt on them and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that suggested he actually worked for a living.
His blue eyes found mine, and I watched something flicker across his face.
I always made him nervous. Maybe it was the crop top.
“Xavier,” he said, and his voice had that slow Texas drawl I’d heard over speakerphone a dozen times. “Glad you made it. Lucas hasn’t shut up about you coming.”
“That’s because I’m so delightful,” I said, extending my hand. “It’s good to see you again, Beau. Last time was such a blur I barely remembered what you looked like.”
He shook my hand, his grip firm but not aggressive. “Same here. Lucas tells me you’re the best in the business.”
“He’s not wrong.” I glanced at Lucas, who was watching us both with barely contained excitement. “Though I have to say, planning a wedding in the middle of nowhere is a first for me.”
“It’s not the middle of nowhere,” Beau said, but there was the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “We’ve got neighbors just five miles down the road.”
“Five whole miles,” I deadpanned. “Practically Manhattan.”
Lucas snorted, and even Beau’s smile widened a fraction. Good. If I was going to be stuck here for a month, I needed to know the groom had a sense of humor.
“Come on,” Lucas said, grabbing my arm. “Let me show you the cabin before dinner. You can get changed into something dry.”
I glanced down at my soaked designer jeans and pink crop top, both nearly soaked through. “Yeah, that would be great. Though I’m not sure I packed anything appropriate for monsoon season.”
“It’ll clear up by tomorrow,” Beau said. “Always does after these spring storms.”
We headed back out into the rain, Lucas leading me toward the cluster of cabins I’d spotted earlier.
He took me to the one furthest from the main house, tucked slightly back among a grove of cottonwood trees.
Even in the downpour, I could see it was nicer than I’d expected.
There was a coat of fresh paint, a small covered porch with rocking chairs, and window boxes that would probably have flowers in them once someone planted them.
Lucas unlocked the door and ushered me inside. I stopped just past the threshold, blinking in surprise.
The cabin was... actually lovely. It was small, sure, but the space was well-designed with an open floor plan that made it feel bigger than it was.
A queen bed dominated one corner, covered in what looked like an expensive quilt.
There was a kitchenette with modern appliances—including, I noted with relief, a decent-looking espresso machine sitting on the counter.
A small dining table, a comfortable-looking armchair by the window, and a door that presumably led to the bathroom.
“Lucas,” I said slowly. “Did you buy an espresso machine just for me?”
He had the decency to look sheepish. “Maybe. I know how you are about your coffee.”
I walked over to examine it more closely. It wasn’t my La Marzocco, but it was a Breville, which was respectable. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I wanted you to be comfortable. This is going to be your home for a month, X. And it’s not like you’d let me pay you for all the work you’re doing…”
“I told you, it’s a wedding gift,” I replied, giving him a wink. “That and my presence. You’re welcome.”
Lucas laughed and pulled me into another hug, this one less frantic than the rain-soaked greeting. “You being here is gift enough. Seriously.”
I hugged him back, feeling that familiar warmth in my chest that only Lucas could inspire. God, I’d missed this. Phone calls and texts were great, but nothing beat actually being in the same space as your best friend.
“Alright, enough of this sappy shit,” I said, pulling away. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to assess the damage.”
“Through there.” He pointed to the door I’d noticed earlier. “There’s towels in the cabinet, and I stocked the shower with some of those fancy products you like.”
“You mean basic hygiene products that don’t smell like a twelve-year-old boy’s gym locker?”
“Sure, that.” He grinned. “I’ll let you get settled. Dinner’s in about an hour, but come up to the main house whenever. And Xavier?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
I watched him leave, closing the cabin door behind him, and stood there for a moment in the quiet.
Rain pattered against the roof and windows, a steady rhythm that was almost soothing.
I walked to the window and looked out at the ranch, at the hills rolling away into the gray distance, at the puddles forming in the gravel pathways.
This was going to be my life for the next month. No late-night cocktails at my favorite bar. No spontaneous gallery openings. No hookups with beautiful strangers who knew exactly what they were doing. Just rain, grass, cows probably, and a wedding to plan.
I sighed and grabbed my phone, snapping a picture of the cabin’s interior. Within seconds, I’d posted it to my Instagram story with the caption: “Traded Manhattan for Montana. Wait, no. Texas. Same difference. Send help and espresso beans.”
My phone immediately started buzzing with responses, but I ignored them. I needed to shower, change, and mentally prepare myself for dinner with Lucas’s new family. The family he’d built here in the middle of nowhere.
The bathroom was actually nice. It had modern fixtures, a rainfall showerhead, and, to my surprise, heated floors. Someone had put real thought and money into these cabins. Then again, Turner Ranch was charging a premium to get the full ranch experience. Their customers demanded decency.
I stripped off my wet clothes and stepped under the hot water, letting it wash away the travel grime and some of my cynicism.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I had my best friend, a decent espresso machine, and a wedding to plan.
I’d survived worse. Like that destination wedding in the Maldives where the bride’s mother got drunk and tried to fight a sea turtle.
Or the time a groom’s ex showed up mid-ceremony with a mariachi band.
Cowboys and tumbleweeds? I could handle that.
I hoped.