Chapter 21
Tristan
“You know it’s not too late to change your mind about horse camp,” Sadie says while putting the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.
“Oh boy,” Harper mutters under her breath.
“Sadie, please, let’s not fight about this again.”
She lets out a long huff. “Fine.”
At least there’s that.
“So, did you get the clothes you needed?” Harper asks Sadie.
“We got some, but Dad said the shorts were too short, which doesn’t make any sense since they’re literally called shorts. They’re supposed to be what they are.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t need your butt showing.”
“Oh, yes, because I won’t be in a bathing suit half the time,” she says with a dramatic scoff. “You chose this camp, Dad. I didn’t.”
“I have regrets,” I say as I sit in my seat.
“Regrets are for losers,” Pop says as he enters the room, taking the seat next to me. “There are no losers in my family.”
Harper purses her lips. “I don’t know, I think Tristan is a pretty big loser.”
“Nah.” Dad takes my side for once. “He’s the biggest loser, right, Sugar Britches?”
Sadie grins, always having my father’s loyalty. “He is, but we love him anyway.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Everyone laughs and starts dishing up their plates. “Where are Roni and Fallon?” Dad asks.
“Roni is working in the barn, said she has too much to do and will grab something later. Fallon took Knox to town for some ‘Mommy and Me’ thing,” Harper informs us.
“Why are you home?” Dad asks her.
“Well, Daddy, someone has to be here to take care of you.”
He scoffs. “I don’t need looking after. I’m going to work on the field after we eat.”
The hell he is. The last time he tried to mow the hayfield, he put huge ruts in the ground that ended up costing me a week’s worth of work. My sister and I share a look and both nod. We will have to devise a plan to keep him from going near the tractor.
Maybe Sadie can install a ceiling fan in her coop and require his assistance.
It’s kept him pretty busy the last few days, and that allowed Harper and me to get a ton of work done on the farm.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Harper says, waving her hand. “Tristan already worked on the field.”
My father, while he may be old and annoying, is not stupid. “He did? When?”
Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, ask him.”
I hate my sister.
Dad turns to me, brows raised. I’ve never been very good at lying to my parents. “Huh?” I play dumb.
“You worked on the field? You cut the hay?”
I grab a roll, take a bite, and nod.
I guess I know what I’m going to be doing after dinner instead of napping while I pretend to work in the barn.
Dad eyes me warily and then looks to Sadie. “You going to lie to your grandad?”
Sadie shakes her head. “No, sir. I never lie to you.”
He smiles. “That’s why you’re my favorite grandchild.”
“I can’t wait to tell Fallon you said that,” Harper says, piling food on his plate. “Eat.”
“Don’t you be telling me what to do,” he gripes at her. “I’ll eat when I want to eat.”
Harper scoffs. “Eat, Dad.”
“You’re not in charge of me, Harper Margaret. I’m in charge of this house. I’m going to eat because I’m hungry and not because you told me to.” Dad grabs his fork, shoveling some potatoes and roast into his mouth.
Harper doesn’t even seem fazed by it and grins at me. I swear I can hear her glee at being able to redirect him where she wanted.
Hopefully we’ve circumvented the field, because I can’t lose all that hay. I’ll have to buy some or barter for it, and there’s really no need, because we have plenty. If my father doesn’t screw it all up.
Sadie leans back. “We saw Lark today.”
I close my eyes and pray for a miracle to get us out of this conversation.
“Lark Gatlin?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, she was shopping when we were there. So Dad and I talked to her.”
Harper places her fork down but holds on to the knife. Not a good sign.
“We said hello to her and her mother, and then we came home,” I say, finishing the rest of the story before heads start exploding.
“Millie Gatlin should’ve run the other way when George asked her to dance in high school. I thought she was real nice back then, even though she had bad taste.”
Harper snorts. “I’m pretty sure they said the same about Momma.”
“Your mother knew quality when she saw it. One look at me, and she knew I was the best man for her.” Dad sits up taller. “Now those Gatlins, there isn’t much quality about them.”
“Lark is nice,” Sadie argues.
Yes, Lark is nice. And beautiful. And funny. And smart. And sexy. And alluring.
And…and…and.
Trouble.
That’s the word I should be holding on to. Lark Gatlin is trouble, and I’m running straight toward it.
Like a damn fool.
“Lark is a Gatlin,” my sister says. “Not much nice about her.”
“Lark is nothing like her brothers,” I remind her. “She’s never done a thing to us.”
“Oh, yes, she’s just a victim in this family feud.” Harper rolls her eyes and then grabs her fork. “You know, she was just so vocal when her asshole brother ruined your sister’s life.”
“Lark wasn’t the one who did it. Just like you, Fallon, Roni, and I didn’t do a damn thing to earn their hatred,” I say, tipping my head to the side.
“You aren’t seriously defending her, are you?” my sister asks.
“I’m telling you the truth, Harper. If that’s defending her, then so be it.
She’s been nice to Sadie—they talked about chickens.
She’s never done anything to us and even apologized for her family calling the cops on us.
So, yeah, I’m not just sitting around hating people who aren’t doing anything wrong. ”
My father sits back, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Harper and me go back and forth. She turns to him. “Got nothing to say now, Dad?”
He chuckles. “Oh? Now you want me to have an opinion?” Sadie giggles and he winks at her. “I think there are always bad apples, and then a good one drops. Maybe Lark is that, maybe she’s not.”
“Who’s the good apple on our tree, Grandad?” Sadie bats her lashes at him.
“You, Sugar Britches. You are.”
My daughter grins. “Thank you, Grandad.”
“Of course.”
Harper shakes her head. “I don’t think anything from that tree isn’t rotten.”
I can definitely attest that there’s nothing rotten about Lark. She’s sweet, and I enjoyed taking a bite of her fruit.
No way in hell I’m saying that.
I plan to get another taste in about four hours.
Sadie looks to me. “Do you think that, Dad?”
This is one of those moments where I wonder whether my daughter is genuinely curious about this or if she’s just being a little shit-stirrer. Knowing her, it’s the second option. However, she’s never going to let me walk out of this conversation.
“I think that disliking people without a reason isn’t the right thing. Lark was nice to you, wasn’t she?” Sadie nods. “Then I think you should be nice back. Regardless of what people say.”
“Unless I say it. Then you listen to me,” Dad tells her.
“Don’t listen to him.” Both Harper and I jump in at the same time and then laugh.
My father huffs. “Sure, that they agree on.”
“Sorry, Pop, we’ve learned that you are not often the voice of reason.” I look back at my daughter. “Doing the right thing when no one is looking is what I consider the makings of a good person.”
He waves me off and then turns to face Sadie. “Except if they’re a Gatlin. Then we hate them.”
It’s not worth the eternal fight. Sadie is a smart girl, and she’ll do the right thing.
My hope is that she won’t see Lark anyway. The more we can keep the families apart, the better.
We eat, talking about the plans for the week and an upcoming auction. Harper goes over some of the costs she’s concerned about, and Dad, being Dad, weighs in with his usual unhelpful advice.
My father ran this farm for sixty years, but things have changed, and he’s refused to adapt.
He thinks all the new technology is useless and stupid, but it’s allowed us to streamline sales and other parts of our business.
We keep better records and are more aware of what’s needed instead of guessing like my father did in his day.
Still, he holds a great amount of knowledge, and he’s more than earned my respect. So I never shoot his ideas down or refuse him the floor. I just don’t always listen, because it’s not the same farm that he built.
Just like it wasn’t when he took over from my grandad or his grandad before him.
“Dinner was great, pumpkin,” Dad tells Harper.
“Thanks, Daddy.” She leans down and kisses his forehead. “Why don’t you go rest.”
“Nah, I’m too old to rest.” He turns to Sadie. “How about we work on sprucing up the goat pen next?”
Sadie grins. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Good. We’ll use your dad’s credit card this time.”
And I can go work on the field before spending the night at the ridge.
I get to the ridge earlier than I expected. Sadie went to bed early, and I told everyone I was going out for a ride and would see them in the morning.
This isn’t something I do often, but still frequently enough that I didn’t get shit for it.
Well, other than the underhanded comments from my daughter about how nice it is for me to be able to ride.
I beat Lark here and take the time to set up. I lay out the blanket and grab the wine we never drank and the hodgepodge of snacks I grabbed.
I needed to make it look normal.
After about twenty minutes, I hear hoofbeats coming toward the clearing.
Then I see her, long hair flowing behind her as she rides closer before coming to a halt. She removes her hat, her hair tumbling down around her, and she dismounts. She ties off her horse and then walks to me, tossing her hat on the blanket. I do the same and then catch her as she rushes to me.
My arms wrap around her, pulling her up, and her lips are on mine a moment later.
No words.
No greeting.
Just need.
This day has felt like it took double the time. Every minute was like an hour, and it seems she felt it too.
I lift her higher, forcing her to wrap her legs around my hips as I walk us to the blanket.
Her mouth is like fire, stoking me back to life.