Chapter 11
Stop Thinking With Your Giant Dick
Wes
My body feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of wild horses. Muscles hurt that I didn’t even know I had. I don’t remember ever being this sore after working on the ranch when I was younger. Although, I suppose it feels different at thirty-five than it did at eighteen.
I gulp down a thermos filled with iced tea, grateful that Sawyer made some for supper the other night and left it in the fridge for Pops.
It’s been three days since Pops made that deal with me, and I still haven’t found the right time to call Dad to tell him about it.
I was hoping I’d find a way out of this or that Pops would cave and let me go back to the city like I’ve been dying to ever since I got here.
Unfortunately, I’ve never been a lucky guy.
Dad keeps emailing me, asking how it’s going, which means he’s either tired of running things by himself or he knows something is up. I sent him a brief response, telling him I'd come into town so we could talk on the phone this weekend.
The pressure to be there helping Dad with the company weighs more heavily on me every day, but I’m not going anywhere yet.
I’ve been here longer than I planned already, and Dad’s going to be looking for answers soon—about the ranch, about why I’m not home, and about how I plan to fix the mess I’ve made by agreeing to be here when I should be in the city.
I’ll find a time to get to town and call Dad, but right now I’m fixing a fence that one of the bulls tried to tear down to sneak into greener pastures. Pastures where the cows are ready to breed again. I pound the new post into the ground and eye the guilty culprit.
“Too bad, buddy. You won’t be getting any until spring.” He gives me an unimpressed stare. “I feel ya, man. I’m not getting any around here either, but if you don’t quit chasing tail, Pops will just send you to slaughter, so you gotta think with more than that giant dick you’ve got hanging there.”
Tripp’s booming laugh interrupts my conversation with the bull. “You givin’ yourself a pep talk, bud? I’m sure Pops wouldn’t send you to slaughter for thinkin’ with your giant dick. You are his grandson, after all.”
I duck my head, laughing at myself now. “I was talking to Houdini over there.”
Tripp settles his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side. “Only been here a week and you’re already talking to the animals, huh?”
“They’re nicer to talk to than your ass,” I mutter.
“Well then, maybe I’ll leave instead of helping you finish this fence.” He starts to turn back toward the house.
“No. Wait.” I can’t help but call him back.
He smiles, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I’m a nice guy or I’d make you get down on your knees and kiss my boots first.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh. “I already feel like an idiot.”
“We all talk to the animals from time to time. Especially when we’re feelin’ lonely.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but curiosity lurks there, too. We were close enough back in the day that I understand his statement as the invitation to conversation that he means it to be and not a conclusion he’s jumped to.
I’d like to argue, but I can’t quite make myself lie to Tripp like that. Instead, I let the words die on my tongue and get back to working on the fence.
“Pops told me you’re staying.” He nudges me with the toe of his boot.
I glare up at him where he’s standing with his hands on his hips, delight written all over his face. “Only until Thanksgiving. It was part of the ultimatum. I stay. He sells the ranch.”
“And you agreed to it that easily, huh?”
I scrub a dirt-covered hand over my face. “It was the simplest way to get the ranch up for sale. I’m still hoping he’ll agree to sell it sooner, though. Two months is a long time to be gone.”
Tripp puts the new fence post into the second hole I dug. “Good luck with that,” he says doubtfully.
I give a weak chuckle. Being here around old friends and Pops has made me realize how lonesome I've been lately. I have family and friends in the city, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t quite feel the same as it does here.
I was feeling lonely long before the breakup with Hannah.
I'd been trudging through life, unable to find the joy in it I once had.
Each day blurred into the next, devoid of any passion or excitement.
But this place is a bit of balm to my broken spirit. And I’m beginning to wonder if my dad knew that when he sent me out here.
I’m on my way back to town for the first time in over a week.
I’d planned on spending my Saturday morning at the coffee shop, where I have service and can connect to their Wi-Fi for free, but instead, I’d woken up to a note from Pops telling me he was taking the day off to spend some time at a friend’s house.
He deserved a break. I was happy he was finally taking one after everything his body had been through the last couple of months.
I did all the morning chores and then hopped in the old blue Chevy to make the trip into town. My phone rings in my pocket, and I turn down the radio before swiping my thumb across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, honey. How are things?” Mom asks in my ear.
“It’s almost noon. I’d hardly call it morning.”
“Well, maybe not if you’re on ranch time, I suppose,” she considers. “Your father’s been trying to get a hold of you all week. He said you haven’t been responding to his messages or his emails.”
I sigh. I thought I’d be able to keep up with work, but everything has been pushed to the wayside since I set foot on the ranch. I should be anxious about the accounting firm, but I haven’t been able to drum up enough motivation to go back into town since going to Herds.
“I have responded, but with only one bar of service out at the ranch, it must not have gone through. I’m heading into town to hook up to the Wi-Fi there.”
“Oh, good. He’s eager to hear if you’ve talked to Vern yet.”
I cringe. I wasn’t planning to go into detail with her, but I also couldn’t lie. “It didn’t go exactly as planned.”
“Of course not. Your grandfather is a difficult man when it comes to that place.”
Mom never understood his attachment to the ranch or Dad’s willingness to send me there every summer, but whether or not she agreed, she’d always let it happen. And I always learned a lot while I was here.
I clear my throat. “I’m working on it,” I mollify.
“I hope you get it all taken care of quickly. Honestly, your father is beside himself, trying to get everything done at work.”
I bite back the retort that’s on the tip of my tongue.
She doesn’t mean anything by her comment.
She and Dad both wanted me to come out here.
They knew I needed some space. A place to lick my wounds from Hannah in peace, and since they really did want Pops to sell the ranch, coming out to Cottonwood Creek was killing two birds with one stone.
“I know, Mom. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” I say carefully.
“Okay, sweetheart. Take care of yourself. Make sure you call Dad once you get set up in the coffee shop. He worries, you know.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up with a sigh and a twist of guilt that I haven’t tried harder to reach my dad.
I had a key role in his company, and while he knew where I was and that there was no service at the ranch, maybe he expected me to spend part of my day doing my actual job rather than spending all day and night living and breathing the ranch life.
I haven’t really missed being connected to life outside of the ranch, and that surprises the hell out of me. Maybe I’d been burnt out with being stuck behind a desk all day. Or maybe I just hadn’t been here long enough to feel the strain of not being able to email or call someone on a whim.
The bell on the door rings as I walk into the Cowboy Corner Café, and Mrs. Mackey greets me with a sweet smile, gray hair short and curled.
“Wes, sweetie! It’s good to see you. We missed you at our pitch night the other night.”
“Hi Mrs. Mackey. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Pops has been keeping me busy.”
“Oh, I’m sure he has. I hear he gets to keep you until Thanksgiving.”
My smile is tight as I nod. Gossip spreads like wildfire in Cottonwood Creek. I’m not surprised she’s heard already, but it makes me feel a little worse that I haven’t informed my own father yet.
“Well, that will give you some time to get reacquainted with Sawyer. Won’t that be nice? She’s such a sweet girl.”
My eyes bulge at the word sweet and Sawyer together in the same sentence. That girl is as sour as they come, especially with me.
I’d be willing to bet she tastes sweet, though.
The thoughts swirling grind to an abrupt halt.
Clearly, my blood sugar was getting low if my mind was going to how Sawyer Addams would taste.
Definitely the lack of food and not how good she’d looked up on her horse the other day, smirking down at me with her copper hair braided down her back and those cool blue eyes roaming over my cowboy attire.
I hadn’t missed the way her gaze had lingered.
God damn.
I need to sit down and stop thinking about the damn neighbor girl who drives me absolutely crazy. I should take the advice I’d given the bull earlier and stop thinking with my giant dick before I create an embarrassing situation and pop a hard-on in these jeans.
I clear the log lodged in my throat. “I’ll take the biscuits and gravy and a coffee, Mrs. Mackey. And if it’s not too much trouble, the free Wi-Fi you’re offering.”
“Of course. Find a seat and I’ll bring it all out to you in a jiffy.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Mackey.”
I sit at a small table near an outlet and set up my makeshift desk with my laptop and mousepad. Finally, I bring up my dad’s number and hit the call button.
“Rick Dawson here.” My dad’s voice sounds just like it always does, a hurried rumble, like he’s too busy to be answering but does, anyway.
“Hey, Dad. I just talked to Mom. My messages must not have gone through. I haven’t had a chance to come into town until today.”
Dad grumbles noncommittally, the sound of his keyboard clicking echoing over the line. “He’s keeping you pretty busy, then?”
“Yeah, he is. It’s fall on the ranch. You remember how it is.”
“Sure do. Too much for him to handle on his own, that’s for sure. How’s he looking?” Concern edges into his tone.
“Older than I remember,” I answer honestly. Mrs. Mackey brings me my coffee along with sugar and creamer that she sets in front of me on the table with an easy smile.
Dad chuckles over the line. “You see him at Christmas every year.”
It’s true, but he’s aged a lot since last Christmas. The heart attack took a lot out of him.
“I know. I guess I just forgot how much there is to do out here that requires physical labor.”
“That’s why you’re out there to talk him into selling it. He’s too old to be doing all that. Especially after the heart attack.”
“Right.”
An uncomfortable silence stretches over the line as I consider how to break the news to Dad that I’m staying here for seven more weeks.
“So? Have you talked to him about it yet?” Dad asks, impatient for answers.
I swallow down the nerves balling in my stomach. “I did. He made me a deal.”
“Care to expand on that?” Dad presses.
My shoulders slump. “He said if I stay and help out on the ranch until Thanksgiving, he’ll sell.”
“Hmph.” Dad’s quiet a moment before he lets out his breath on a loud exhale. “Somehow, that’s a better outcome than I might have expected. I’ve got it all taken care of here, so don’t worry about anything on this end.”
Mrs. Mackey slides the steaming plate of biscuits and gravy to me, and I smile in thanks.
“Mom said you were having a hard time running things by yourself.”
“You know how your mother is, always making mountains out of molehills. There was a minor hiccup at the office, but I had Todd handle it. I’d rather have you concentrating on Pops and the ranch.”
“Oh. Good.” I don’t know exactly how I should feel about not being needed back at work immediately, but the first thing I do feel is relief, which is strange considering only a few days ago I wanted to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.
“I worry about him out there all alone since Grams died,” Dad continues.
“He has Tripp out here helping and his neighbor, Sawyer, brings him home-cooked meals a few times a week and helps when she can.”
“Oh, right, Sawyer. We met her when we were there visiting right after his heart attack. She’s got some spunk.”
I scoff. “You could say that.”
“Be nice to her, Wes. She takes care of Pops when we aren’t around. You make sure to thank her for us. She doesn’t have to help him out the way she does. He’s not her kin, but she does it out of the kindness of her heart.”
I wince, thinking of the less than warm welcome she’s given me thanks to the way I’ve acted around her. Like a spoiled little boy who has been made to eat his vegetables before he gets a slice of pie. “I will.”
“Do whatever you need to do out there. Todd and I will take care of everything here.”
“Alright,” I say. My dad hangs up the phone, and I’m left wondering what to do with my day since Pops is out with friends and apparently, I don’t have as much work to catch up on as I thought since Dad is confident in Todd taking over my position while I'm gone.
Once I finish scarfing down the biscuits and gravy, I pay for my food and grab a few of Mrs. Mackey’s famous brownies as a peace offering to bring to Sawyer on my way back to the ranch.
I still owe her for the hangover remedy, after all. Not to mention I’ve acted like being here is some giant pain in the ass instead of an opportunity to spend some time with Pops while I still can.
Dad’s right. It wouldn’t hurt to thank Sawyer for helping out when none of the family was around to do it. And I happen to remember she has a giant soft spot for Mrs. Mackey’s brownies.