Chapter 4
If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t do well with people treating me like I’m incapable.
You assume I can’t do something? Well, guess what, buddy? Now I’m going to make it my mission to learn how to do it well so I can prove how wrong you are.
Even if it’s to my detriment.
Or very inadvisable.
That’s how I ended up learning how to resole a shoe. And put up drywall. And play the accordion.
Do I have any actual desire to do those things now? Absolutely not. I hate accordion music. Once I’m good enough at something, invariably I’ll quit because there’s no challenge left in the pursuit.
But that’s beside the point. The point is, don’t underestimate me. And definitely don’t challenge me, because I’ll waste both our time proving you wrong.
Granted, I won’t tell you I’m doing this. No, I’ll smile along and brush off any judgement, silently seething and plotting my next move.
Right now, that orneriness is prickling the back of my neck as we walk silently toward the main building and Cal glances over at me with barely disguised disdain for the third time.
I’m not sure whether it’s my outfit or my overall presence that’s bothering him more.
I pat the red beaded fringe epaulet on the shoulder of my baby pink jumpsuit, and give the minotaur my most winning smile. “Figured if we were having dinner, I’d get dressed up.”
He huffs, expelling air through his large nostrils so forcefully I imagine it’s his way of trying to blow me away. I giggle, pretending I don’t understand what he’s saying loud and clear through his lack of reply—I don’t want you or your ridiculous outfit here.
Well, too bad, buckaroo, because I’m here and I’ll be sticking to Gretchen’s wardrobe choices for the foreseeable future, just to show you I don’t care about your grumpy, judgmental ass.
We make our way inside the main building, and I desperately want to pause for a bit and soak things in, but Cal makes a beeline toward our destination.
The lobby is vaguely familiar, the warm yellow wallpaper what I remember most distinctly from childhood.
But even at a glance, it’s faded and worse for wear.
The reception desk is empty, and there’s no one sitting in the comfy, if a little worn, chairs in front of the large crackling fireplace, despite the night air bringing a chill with it.
“Mmm, feels nice in here.” I rub my arms over the thin fabric encasing them.
“Wouldn’t be cold if you were dressed properly,” Cal mutters under his breath.
I blink at him, giving him my best ditzy girl impression, complete with a head tilt and doe eyes. “What was that?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Cal heads to a set of open double doors, where he has to duck to fit his horns through. My lips twitch into a slight frown, my hospitality brain overriding my peevish thoughts toward him.
Does he have to stoop to go through every doorway here? That’s not very accessible or welcoming to the cow men working on the ranch, let alone any potential minotaur guests. The ceilings are plenty high enough to accommodate taller doors, so that’s not the issue.
My frown deepens as I turn my attention to the dining hall, which is…lackluster to say the least.
I have a fuzzy memory of cute wooden farmhouse tables and a mix of sturdy chairs and movable benches, but they’ve been replaced by what are essentially glorified picnic tables.
There’s a group of three minotaurs in what appears to be the unofficial rancher uniform—worn Wranglers and a flannel—crammed together at a table on the other side of the room, near a set of swinging doors.
They sit astride the benches like you would a horse, because there’s not enough room between the attached bench and table to fit their broad bodies.
Cal catches me scowling at the table. “Got a problem?”
I flush, snapping my gaze up to his face, my neck twinging at the strain of tipping back.
Shit, I was glaring at the only minotaurs in the room. Though, to be fair, there’s only four other people in here besides them, the large mess sparsely populated even at prime meal time.
“No! Just, uh, wondering about the tables.”
His eyes narrow at me. “This ain’t the Ritz, honey.”
No, the Ritz would have accessible doorways and tables and, oh yeah, actually have some guests.
I force a laugh and bat my lashes at him, trying not to let it show that I’m gritting my teeth. “Really? I must’ve gotten turned around after I got into that accident.”
His glare only deepens.
Seriously, who put the stick up this guy’s ass? Sure, I crashed into the sign, but technically that was his fault for having his cock loose!
My gaze darts down to his crotch for a split-second. Jesus, his tight jeans don’t leave a lot to the imagination. Between the giant belt buckle and the way the fabric pulls taut across his tree-trunk thighs, it’s practically a beacon drawing the eye to his dick.
“Food’s over there. Help yourself.”
I startle at his gruff voice and look toward the buffet before he catches me, mortified that I checked out this turd’s junk.
“Perfect! I’m starving.” My stomach rumbles on cue, and I laugh. He doesn’t.
Whatever. At least the food looks good. There’s a decent selection of vegetarian options, which makes sense given that minotaurs can’t digest meat.
They can, however, have dairy, I note cheerfully as I pile mac and cheese and mashed potatoes on my plate.
Then add a heaping spoonful of shredded cheese to the top of my bowl of chili.
By the time I’m done loading up, I turn and find Cal already at one of the empty tables, with nothing but a mug in front of him.
What the hell? Why isn’t he eating?
I look down at my tray, embarrassed for a split-second, before indignance comes on board. This dude wants to make some weird power play where he’s too good to eat dinner with me? Fine. I’ll get even more.
I move over to the pile of trays, grabbing a second one with a determined huff.
“I recommend the cornbread,” a deep voice rumbles from beside me.
I turn to see one of the minotaurs from the table I’d been looking at standing beside me.
He’s got a pretty pattern to his hide, solid reddish-brown around the head and shoulders, that turns into spots and speckles on top of a white base on his arms and the sliver of chest that’s exposed at the collar of his flannel.
He’s even broader than Cal, with a softer midsection and horns that have a slight twist to them.
There’s something about him that gives the impression that he’s older than Cal, but I’m not great at guessing ages, so I could be totally off base.
The most notable thing about him is that, unlike that grump Cal, he’s got a friendly, genuine smile on his face.
I smile back. “Ah, good call! Gotta have cornbread with chili.”
He nods. “If you have a sweet tooth, definitely get yourself some of the cobbler, too.”
“There are desserts?” My eyes light up at the prospect, and he laughs.
“Yep. Right over there.” He points to a section of the buffet that I somehow missed in my cheese frenzy.
“Hell yeah. Thanks!” Damn, why couldn’t this have been the guy who found me earlier? He’s awesome. “I’m Belle, by the way,” I say, fumbling to put the tray back down and extend a hand to him.
His brows go up when he hears my name, but a second later his surprise is replaced by a huge grin. “Ah, of course you are! You’re the spitting image of Dawn up close. Welcome home, Miss Belle.”
After the rude reception from Cal, I have a sudden, overwhelming, and extremely embarrassing urge to cry at this minotaur’s kindness. I force down the lump in my throat and give him a watery smile in return. “Thank you. I’m happy to be back here. It’s been a long time.”
Shit, don’t cry. “Too long,” I add, my voice shaky.
His deep green gaze turns soft with understanding. “That’s okay, Miss Belle. Sometimes life gets in the way, or circumstances that we can’t control keep us apart. The ones who love you won’t hold that against you.”
A tear slides down my cheek, and I brush it away quickly. I wish I could ask him for a hug, but that’d be too weird. I settle for a nod and a sniffle. “True.”
“I’m August, and those two knuckleheads over there who don’t know better than to gawk at a pretty lady are Remy and Wylie.
” He gestures over to the pair of young-looking minotaurs with identical blue-gray coloration and shorter horns, who startle at me looking their way and turn their focus back to their plates.
I snort. “Nice to meet you, August. I’ll have to come introduce myself to them once I’m done getting—”
A rough throat clearing cuts me off, and I spin to find Cal lurking behind me. I startle at his presence, which makes him frown.
“We’ve got important things to discuss, so that’ll have to wait.” He grabs my first tray and walks away with it.
“Is he always this grumpy?” I whisper to August.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s been under a lot of stress since Dawn passed. He’s not normally so…brusque.”
Is it stress or is it something about me? Either way, I get what August is saying, but I don’t have to forgive anyone for being rude.
“I think he doesn’t like sequins,” I tease, pointing to my outfit.
August’s eyes crinkle at the corners in warm amusement. “We could use a bit of sparkle and brightness ‘round these parts. Cal most of all.”
The minotaur in question glares at me from across the room. “Guess I should get going. I’ll see you around, hopefully!”
“Looking forward to it. If you stop by the barn, I’ll introduce you to the ladies.”
I want to ask what ladies, but August turns back to his table, taking the warmth I felt while in his presence with him.
I join Cal, who hasn’t put my tray down at the table. He picks his mug up and sets it next to my plate. “We’ll eat in the office. Too many distractions in here.”
“Oh. Sorry.” God, I hate that I apologized, but it’s too late to take it back.