Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Tagger
Even in April, shade is appreciated from the Texas sun.
Hanging back on the porch, I give Christine and Beck some time to explore on their own. Here, he can run free. In the city, he isn’t allowed more than a few feet from me on the quieter residential streets. On the busier streets, his hand is always in mine.
He’s in safekeeping as they explore the barn and meet each of the chickens by name. With him busy, I sit on the porch to catch up on emails, though anytime they come into view, my eyes are on them. Especially him.
I haven’t seen his pure delight in a while. Probably Christmas, if I remember right. He’s a happy kid by nature. His mom . . . not so much. But I’m not an innocent bystander. I contributed to both their dispositions. Custody of Beck is ever-evolving and seemingly never-ending. If I compromise, she makes a new demand. If I put my foot down, I hear from her lawyer the following morning. And if I dare to make a request or add a stipulation of my own? All hell breaks loose, and we’re back to square one.
Organizing this trip for his spring break took two rounds and a few thousand in attorney fees.
Looking up from my phone, I see Christine reach over and tickle Beck. She taps his nose as his giggles ring out across the yard before she turns in my direction. Damn. She’s not the same Pris I remember. Even down to the nickname I promised not to use again. But calling her Christine just doesn’t sit right. She’s just as Pristine with my boy as she was all those years ago.
She swings by the house to grab some carrots from inside. “A little hot in the country for you?” she asks, grinning at me like I’m foreign to the outdoors.
“Not one bit.”
I think I hear, “I beg to differ,” but I could be wrong. I know Baylor’s younger sister would never flirt with me. Though I’m still staring at the screen door as it slams closed like my ears didn’t deceive me. Would she?
Nah.
She’s got to have a line of guys waiting to take her out or hold her hand at the county fair. What would she see in some guy she’s known her whole life? Considering how much I pestered her growing up, she probably sees me like a third brother.
Beck runs onto the porch, out of breath, and straight for me. “Dad?”
“Son?” I grin. I didn’t think I’d failed my son until early last year when Anna and I broke up. The time apart gave me clarity of what we were both missing, and I realized I had never stopped climbing the corporate ladder to take in the view. That view will always pale compared to the one I have before me.
Seeing him now, it was worth every penny.
“Miss Christine said that I get to feed the horses.” The anticipation zipping through his words has him smiling like a loon.
“Whoa, buddy!” I sit forward, just as enthused for him. “That’s exciting.”
There’s a long exhale and even longer inhale before he adds, “They’re big animals.” There’s no shake to his voice, but I can hear the change.
“They are. Are you nervous?”
He looks back at the field where two horses mosey their way toward the fence at the edge of the yard. When he turns back, he scrapes his hand across his sweaty forehead and then shakes his head. “No. I’m big and brave. She said so and that I’m old enough.”
The squeak of the door alerts me to her presence again, though her proximity seems to be doing a solid job on its own.
With a cowboy hat now on her head, she hands him two carrots. “You ready to feed the horses?”
“Yes-sir-ree Bob.”
Her laughter tickles a smile into place, which causes him to start giggling. I pat his back, though I know he’s itching to run to the horses. “Seems like ranch life suits you, Beck.”
“It’s fun here.”
“It is fun here.” I add, “You go have fun, bud.” He takes off before I finish the sentence.
Running the tips of her fingers over my shoulder as she passes by, she stops on the top step and looks back. “You’re not coming, Daddy?”
Fuck. Me.
My brows shoot to the porch ceiling . I definitely did not mishear that. She’s flirting . . . I think. Fuck. Is she?
I have no fucking clue. What I do know is I’m not getting up from this chair to show her how she affects me.
Chuckling, I look away.
Her laughter pulls me back to her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because that was the most awkward laugh I’ve ever heard.” She crosses the yard, not leaving any room for me to lie as if she already knew I would.
I’m not sure what that exchange was all about, but I’m letting it go. I don’t know what to say anyway, so it’s best if I keep my mouth shut.
I watch as Christine shows Beck how to balance on the lower fence rail. She hands him a carrot to hold out. He reaches forward with the safety of her behind him with her hand tucked under his. The horse is quick to take the carrot. And Beck looks back at her like she performed magic.
He looks over his shoulder. “Did you see that, Daddy?”
My mom was right. The fresh air is doing me good, but seeing my son experiencing things that were so natural to me at his age makes me feel like I’m doing something right. Like coming here to the ranch today. I might not have Greene as my last name, but it still feels like home. “I did,” I reply, getting up and resting my hands on the porch railing.
I can’t discount the woman beside him. She’s got some sass under that hat, but she’s doing me some good as well. Spending time together at lunch gave me insight into the woman she’s become. Based on what I gathered, she’s not fussy and is more than capable of anything she puts her mind to. The girl has grown up.
I allow my gaze to take her in. Her jeans aren’t tight, but they can’t hide the body beneath. The blue cotton of the T-shirt drapes over her, but that V at her chest keeps drawing my attention. I’m only human, and she’s quite the sight to take in. I wasn’t slick enough because I think she might have even caught me.
The hat shades her face, but I liked seeing her bare skin and the freckles dabbed across her nose earlier. Twenty-six . . . Old enough to get into some trouble with, but still young enough to get my ass kicked again by her brother. Of course, she could be fifty, and he’d still find a problem, so maybe I need to forget about the threat he once made and see her as her own woman now.
She’s fucking gorgeous. I’m looking right at her when she anchors a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes at me. My lips wriggle sideways. She’s cute, a little wild like an unbroken horse, doing things her way despite how it’s always been done. Or maybe in spite of how it goes around this place. The ranch and farm are thriving, and I’d be willing to believe it’s because she probably doesn’t take shit from anyone. I hope she doesn’t.
Beck feeds another carrot to a different horse coming to get a treat, then launches himself off the rail with no fear. If that doesn’t sum up being a kid—flying free, feeling like the day never ends, and can’t wait to wake up for the adventures to begin. He’s playful but more reserved in the city.
Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I start toward them. I reach the fence and hold my hand out for the horse to smell before stroking the front of their head. “Girl?”
“Yes. Bluebelly. She’s a sweetheart. She foaled for the first time last year.”
Keeping my eyes on the horse, I admire her white and brown markings. “Colt or filly?”
“Colt,” Christine says, sending her gaze to search the distance. “Hang around long enough, and Skyward will come for a carrot. He’s our most curious horse of our stable, but he also loves a nap under the big peach tree closer to the gardens.”
“That’s a good spot. I may have napped there myself once or twice.” Nudging my son, I ask, “Hey, Beck? Want to pet her?”
“Yeah.”
I pick him up, holding him in front of me. “Gentle strokes like this.”
He does as he’s shown and smiles when Bluebelly leans in closer. I keep noting the simplest acts feel like a big deal when I’m with Beck. This is the first horse he’s ever pet, and I have the privilege of becoming a part of a memory being made. Beats brokering deals worth millions. I’d trade pretty much anything to share more times like this with him.
She says, “She likes you.” Reaching forward, Christine scratches along her neck. “They’re incredible creatures.”
“They are.” When I catch her checking her watch, I say, “Let us know if we need to get out of your hair.”
Looking at me from under the brim of her hat, she smiles. “You’re a nice distraction.”
I should take that at face value, but she’s planted a seed I’ll be watering the rest of the night and probably into tomorrow. It’s becoming one of many growing larger the more time we spend together.
She adds, “Beck said you’re coming for dinner.” Giving his shoulder a little squeeze, she looks down at him. When he looks up at her, I’m starting to think they’ve hatched this plan together.
“Did he now?”
Beckett nods. Guilty little bugger.
“Well, we promised Grammy we’d be home for dinner.”
“Ah man,” Beck groans, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking some dirt up.
My gaze flicks to Christine and then to him again before kneeling and whispering in his ear so she can hear, “How about we invite Miss Christine over to ours for dinner?”
“Yes.” He peers back at her. I catch the sweet smile growing on her face right before he asks, “Want to come to Grammy and Pops for dinner?”
Her gaze bounces from him to me, and then she rubs his head. “I’d like that. What time should I be there?”
“You can ride with us.” I lean against the fence, propping my foot on the railing to play this off like it’s no big deal, but nothing about this conversation feels natural. Glancing over at her, I realize I want her to say yes. Not for Beck but for me.
Being this close to her, I see a smudge of dirt streak across the bridge of her nose and her pretty blue eyes set on mine like she sees something interesting in me.
When our eyes meet, she shifts, looking down at her boot toeing the ground in front of her. “You’d be stuck driving me all the way back.” Her eyes land on me again, posing a question her lips never asked.
“I don’t mind.” I shrug, angling my gaze toward the horse who’s lost interest. “Unless you want your truck for a quick getaway.” I look at her again, wanting to see her reaction.
A grin shapes her face, and she laughs. “Why would I need that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my mom serves lima beans, or I piss you off like I used to.”
“First of all,” she starts, watching Beck run around a few feet away from us. “Who hates lima beans? I love them.”
“Unexpected. And second?”
“Second . . .” She picks up like she was never interrupted. “Don’t piss me off then.”
Bursting out in laughter, I joke, “Easier said than done.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” She eyes Beck as if she’s his guardian angel sent to look after him. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
When I tap the front of her hat, the brim lifts just enough for me to see her face again. I’m not disappointed. She’s not the same pipsqueak anymore. She adds, “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t.” I check my watch. “What time do you get off?”
The question seems to give her pause, and she quickly looks away as if it’s taking her a second to digest. Then she grins. “I’ll probably be done in an hour, but I’d love to freshen up after with a shower.”
“Of course. Beck and I have plenty to do if you don’t mind us roaming around.”
Not wasting a minute, she’s already backing away toward the barn, but I can still see that smile brightening her face. “You still know your way around the property?”
“Sure do.”
“Then make yourself at home.” She turns, giving me a good view of her backside and that walk that commands attention. And is owning mine right now.
The belt loop of my pants is tugged. “Can we go see the cows?”
I bring Beck to my side and pat his back. “Yeah, buddy, let’s go see the cows.” I look over at Christine once more before she disappears into the barn, wondering if it was saving her ass at the sundries shop that made me start to see her differently or when she teased me on the porch. Something has changed, though, for both of us.
An hour later, Beck and I have exhausted ourselves and head for the front porch where we find homemade lemonade waiting for us. I assume she’s already upstairs, so we make ourselves comfortable in the rocking chairs, prepared to wait a while.
“We don’t get the long days yet,” Mr. Greene says, coming around from the side of the house. He plants his large hand on the top of the railing and pulls himself up the two steps onto the porch. “Chrissy told me you were out visiting.”
I stand to move closer, not wanting him to have to travel the distance to shake hands. He’s a larger man, always was, but age has grown on him as it should. “Good to see you, Mr. Greene.”
“Mr. Greene? We’re still doing that? Aren’t you Baylor’s age?”
“I am.”
“Thomas will do then, Tagger.” He looks at Beck, then at me again. “Spitting image. What’s your name?”
“Beckett, but I like Beck best.”
“Beck, it is.” He looks ahead again. “You know, Tagger, I can still see you and Baylor out in that field right there messing around on the tractor, though you were told to stay off it.”
I move aside so he can sit down. He starts rocking, eyeing me and the field as if the memories are being created right now instead of twenty-four years ago. “Your mom would drop you off at sunrise before heading back to tend to those horses.” Leaning left toward Beck, he waits until he has his attention, then adds, “Your dad used to run around in his skivvies covered in a day’s worth of play. Your grandmother would hose him off before letting him into her car.”
“Grammy would?” You can see the mischievous plans forming in Beck’s eyes. That’s what I wanted, not him acting out, but him living life to the fullest instead of always being stuck in a suit and tie like his private school requires. And Anna when they go out to dinner. Glancing at me, he laughs. “She’d spray you with a hose?”
“She would. The dirt comes right off, then you’re as clean as a whistle and ready for the next day’s adventures.”
Thomas says, “That’s before he and my son Baylor became big shots in New York City.”
“What’s a big shot?” Beck sits back in the chair again as if he has no plans on leaving anytime soon.
I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it, but Thomas doesn’t hesitate. “It means your dad does very important work. He’s worked hard and been rewarded for it.”
Success came fast. So did burnout. I could never work a day again, and I’d still be set for life. I have more money than I know what to do with, and that gives me a different outlook on how I should spend those hours.
My son matters. I plan to make up for the time I lost with Beck because of work to show him that life isn’t only a concrete jungle. I want to broaden his horizons so he can chase his happiness when money isn’t a concern.
I chuckle. “I don’t know if managing other people’s money is considered hard or important, but I appreciate the ego boost.”
The chair protests under his weight, but he keeps rocking. With his eyes on me, he says, “I heard you paid off your parents’ property?”
I glance at Beck. Money isn’t something I talk about much around him. He’s surrounded by it in the city. Keeping him grounded is something I strive for more. “I did. They paid most of it. I knew my mom was ready to retire from running the stables, so I thought I’d help get them there sooner.”
He stands and comes toward me, patting me on the arm when he passes. “That’s real nice, son.”
“Can I get you some lemonade, Dad?” Her voice is a welcome melody to the gathering out here.
Thomas stops and looks at her. There’s momentary silence, and then he says, “You look nice, Pris.”
Pris? Her eyes immediately find mine. I don’t even have to say anything because my lifted brows are already saying all that needs to be said.
Pointing her finger at me, she says, “Don’t say a word.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “Wasn’t going to . . . yet . I was saving it for the ride over to my parents’ place.”
“Maybe I’ll take my truck after all.” She turns to go back inside.
“No. No. I’ll zip it. Not a word. I promise. Unless you give me permission.”
I’m gifted an eye roll with a grin she’s trying to suppress. “Dad, a plate of spaghetti from last night is in the fridge. Is that alright?”
“Stop fussing over me. I’m a grown man. You go on. You look too nice to waste it out on the ranch.”
Beck pops up from the chair and moves to Christine’s side. “You look nice.”
A tilt of her head in my direction gives me props when I’m left wondering when my six-year-old started stealing my lines.
Tapping his nose, she says, “Thank you, Beckett. Are you ready to go?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” She turns suddenly, pulling the screen door open again. “Hold on. I got your mom some flowers from the garden today. April has the prettiest blooms.”
When she returns, she has a bouquet of pink, orange, and yellow flowers wrapped in brown paper and tied with yellow string and a tote bag in the other hand. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Good to see you, Mr. . . . Thomas.”
“Good to see you, too, kid. You’ve made us proud here in Peachtree Pass.”
I pat Beck’s back to encourage him in the right direction. “I appreciate it.”
He comes to the top step and calls, “When are you bringing my daughter home?”
“Dad?” Christine snaps, looking back over her shoulder. “It’s not a date. I’m going to see the Granges.”
“Well, whatever you kids are calling it. She’s an adult now, as she always reminds me, and can make her own decisions. So I won’t be inside in my La-Z-Boy watching TV all hours of the night to make sure she gets home alright.”
“He’s totally going to be waiting up for me.”
“The man’s got jokes.” I open the front door for her. “It won’t be too late,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t stay up worrying about her.
“He always does.” She slips into the car.
I’m standing there, suddenly realizing we might be going on a date. No. Beck is with us. There won’t be any romance or alone time at all, except the drive home since he’ll be in bed by then. Shit. Is this a date?
I load Beck into the back seat and then slowly walk around. I know what this looks like, what it feels like . . . walks like a duck. Quacks like a duck. It’s a fucking duck.
Running my hand through my hair, I take a breath. It’s not a duck.
She’s coming over because Beck wanted her to. My mom was thrilled to hear she gets to host and see her again. I’m just the driver of the vehicle. Nothing more than a chauffeur. Yeah. That’s good.
I pull open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. When I start the car, I look at her. She whispers, “It’s not a date.”
“Old friends.”
“Speak for yourself, old man. Just friends works better for me.”
“Just friends it is, then.” I put the car in drive and start for the house. Fifteen minutes. What’s fifteen minutes between friends? “Do you want to listen to some music?”
She laughs but keeps her eyes out the window. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Am I that obvious?
I don’t know how I’m going to explain to my best friend that I accidentally took his sister out on a date, but I do know one thing. Baylor’s going to kill me.