Chapter 4 #2
“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.