Eating Out
LAINEY
Later that week, I end up driving over an hour to the nearest big box store. The Wallaces’ property is gorgeous, but it really is in the middle of nowhere—nothing is close.
I spend way too long perusing the surprisingly robust LEGO collection they have there. Then I throw some other essentials into my cart, casually grabbing a box of condoms like I’m not totally melting down inside at the prospect of potentially having sex with Colton Wallace.
I mean, condoms could be a fun addition to that glove box sinner’s chest.
I still can’t believe he showed up at my apartment with his son and a trio of horses that day.
It was a sweet gesture. I don’t want to read too much into what it means.
Let’s be real, Dean was probably the one who came up with the idea.
But yeah, I am buying condoms to have sex with a guy whose contact info I don’t even have in my phone.
By the time I’m back in Hartsville, the sweetest little town I think I’ve ever seen, the sun has started to set. My stomach grumbles.
Beck’s restaurant is around the corner. I’ve visited several times over the past couple weeks, bellying up to the bar for their delicious cocktails and even better food.
Ducking my head to get a better look through my windshield, I survey the storefronts as I drive past, each one more charming than the next.
On my left, there’s a coffee shop with a pink awning that reads The Caffeinated Cowgirl.
On my right, I see a bank, and beside that, a faded green-and-black awning is stamped with the image of a rattlesnake.
Neon beer signs light up its windows. That has to the bar Doc Sally mentioned earlier. I wonder if Colton hangs out there.
Is he fun?
Better question: Does he never allow himself to cut loose because he’s trying to be the best, most responsible dad ever?
The idea makes my chest hurt.
I smile when I see the Homestead Hen. It’s tucked inside a cozy-looking brick building with big windows that glow in the fading twilight.
There’s a deep front porch set with tables and heaters, and I can just hear the faint strains of a familiar country song playing. Old-school Trisha Yearwood? Say less.
I park my car in front of a lawyer’s office on one end of the street and stroll along the sidewalk, taking my time to peer through the windows of the buildings I pass.
The people I see smile at me, and I find myself smiling back. Back home, I’d think the kindness of these strangers was a little creepy. But here, it feels genuine. Nice. Part of the buzzy warmth that fills the woodsmoke-scented air.
I’m surprised when the first person I see when I walk inside the Homestead Hen is none other than Beck Wallace.
It’s calving season on the ranch—I learned all about the beef life cycle from him when he took me out to see the herd the other day—and since he handles cattle along with horses too, he’s been super busy tending to all their newborn cows.
I’d assumed he’d be too busy to be at the restaurant.
I’ve never seen him behind the bar.
“Well, hey there, cowgirl!” He rounds the brass countertop to wrap me in a hug. “Doin’ all right, I hope? I’m coverin’ for Hannah tonight.” He nods at the bar.
My pulse spasms. Did Beck find out what happened between me and his brother at the barn? I imagine word travels fast on the ranch.
Then again, Colton doesn’t seem the type to kiss and tell. Even if he is close with his siblings.
“I’m doing well, thanks. Feeling grateful I get to spend so much time on y’all’s amazing property.”
His hug is tender and tight, the kind you get from close friends, and once again I wonder at the warmth of this place. These people.
Ordinarily, I’d question this guy’s motives. No one can be this friendly, this open, surely?
But I’m too tired to keep up my defenses tonight. Too…giddy. And Beck has been nothing but kind to me.
“Happy to hear it,” he says. “The ranch is a special place. But please tell me my older brother is finally startin’ to play nice?”
Ah, so Beck must not know. Good. Although I wonder what he’d say if he did.
“Colt is fine,” I say. “Mostly.”
“We’ll take it, right?”
“Right.”
Beck releases me, then tilts his head toward the handsome bar. “How about something to take the edge off? It’s on the house.”
“You don’t need—”
“You know how this works, Lainey Brown. You so much as reach for your wallet, I’ll never forgive you.” His face splits into a smile. “You gotta know your money’s no good here. C’mon.” He pulls out a cushy barstool. “Colton may suck at hospitality, but I’m kind of the best at it, so…”
I grin. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment. “So…”
“What’s your poison?”
Mutual masturbation in barns.
“I’ll have a whiskey sour, thanks.” I climb onto the stool and he pushes me in. “This place really is beautiful, Beck. You should be so, so proud.”
He grins as he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work making my drink.
“Thank you. Nice having a little something that’s just mine, you know?
Not like I’m the only one involved here at the restaurant or anything.
” He scoops ice into a brass cocktail shaker.
“But I needed something separate from the ranch. Especially after calving season wraps up.”
“I imagine this is a great little escape for you.” I glance around the restaurant, noting its sexy, cozy decor. Like a French bistro and a Texas grandmother’s kitchen had an especially stylish love child.
He goes to town shaking up my cocktail, the sound making me almost giddy. I’m tired. And yeah, it’s really nice having someone like Beck to talk to. Share a drink with.
Speaking of, Beck apparently shook up not one but two whiskey sours, because he pours himself one too.
He passes me a cocktail. “Cheers, Lainey. Thanks for not runnin’. We ain’t an easy bunch, but I’d like to think we’ll make it worth your while.”
“Thanks for the drink.” I tap my glass against his and take a sip.
It’s all I can do not to groan. The whiskey sour is perfect. Just the right balance of sweet, sour, and strong, it glides over my tongue way too easily.
“What’s your secret?” I manage. “That’s delicious, Beck. Wow.”
“Maple syrup. Adds dimension to the flavor, right?”
I take another sip. “I love it. Thank you again.” A pause. “Colton and Dean actually took me out for a ride the other morning.”
“They did?” Beck’s eyes shimmer with a knowing gleam. “I’m happy to hear that. Did y’all have fun?”
“We did, yeah. But Colton… He’s so back and forth. Hot and cold. I can’t figure him out.”
Beck raises his brows. “Only with you.”
“What’s that about?”
“I think he likes you. Likes you likes you.”
My stomach drops. “Stop.”
“I mean it.”
“No way. He’s so damn…difficult with me.”
“That’s just him workin’ through some shit. Not an excuse, but it is what it is.”
I have to catch myself—stop from asking if that shit is the Billie and Ryder thing. Colton confided in me, and while we may not see eye to eye, I’m not about to spill his secrets. Although I imagine Beck has to know that Colton and Billie aren’t getting along at the moment.
“If you say so,” I manage.
“I do say so.” Beck grins. Makes me think he digs the idea of Colton and me hitting it off.
I’m flattered. And slightly terrified.
“Just the fact that he spent part of his day going for a joyride tells me everything I need to know,” Beck continues.
“It was Dean’s idea.” I don’t know why I’m being defensive. Maybe because Beck caught me off guard?
He cuts me a look. “But who really made it happen? Colton coulda easily told Dean no. I mean, he usually spends Sundays cleaning up his house and meal prepping for the week. I’m shocked he didn’t steer Dean in a different direction.
My brother doesn’t interrupt his routine for just anyone.
Matter of fact, only time I’ve seen him do what he did with you was when Dean broke his wrist back in preschool.
Ran out of the barn like the place was on fire.
Bad joke, because one of our barns did catch fire back in February—”
“Really?” I say with a gasp.
He waves me away. “That’s another story for another day. But point being, Colt is a man of routine. Man’s always gotta be in control. He thrives in that kind of structure, you know?”
“Is he really thriving, though?” My curiosity is getting the better of me, but I can’t help it. Colton is an enigma I am apparently determined to figure out.
Beck thinks for a beat before responding. “He’s been in survival mode for so long… I’m not sure when that stops, but you’re not wrong in what you’re implying. Hard to tell what actually makes him happy and what he’s doing out of a sense of responsibility.”
Sounds familiar.
“That’s why I think he likes you,” Beck continues. “You had the courage to wake him up from sleepwalking through his day. Yeah, that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s also gonna turn him on.”
My turn to be diplomatic. Steering clear of that last part, I say, “Firstborn problems.” I take a long sip of whiskey sour, a buzz beginning to tingle in the backs of my knees. “I can relate. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves to take care of everyone else.”
Beck raises a brow. “Sounds like y’all might have more in common than we thought, huh?”
“Mmm…well, maybe.” More whiskey. I need it. “Do y’all—you and your siblings—are y’all always trying to set him up with anybody who comes into town, or…?”
Beck laughs, a sound that’s starting to become familiar. “Honestly? No. You’re special.”
“Because he hates me so much?”
“Yes.” Beck grabs a bar napkin and produces a pen from his pocket. “Don’t gotta tell you what’s on the other side of that coin, right?”
It’s easy to make this particular Wallace smile. Colton? Not so much. But maybe I also like a challenge.
He slips me the napkin. Only when I pick it up do I see the phone number written on it.
“Not mine. But his,” Beck explains.
I just stare at the numbers, my body throbbing with awareness.