Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
stetson
Tell me this isn’t only one-sided…
I’m a desperate man.
Teetering my way to rock bottom, missing my closed-off city girl.
Her silence doesn’t make sense. It confuses me.
How can our chemistry be this intense, and she just shut me out?
“Stetson,” Abigail calls from behind me, steering my attention to my long-lost relative, whose name I’ve suddenly forgotten. “You remember Aunt Marge, right?”
Ah. That’s right. I greet her with a smile.
“Of course. How could I forget a woman as devastatingly beautiful as you, Marge? Nice to see you again.” I pull her in for a side hug, and the strong smell of powdered floral hits my senses.
Jesus Christ. Who needs caffeine when you’ve got old lady perfume to spark some life back in ya?
Aunt Marge has gotta be pushing eighty. She and my mom were best friends, making her our family by choice, not blood.
“Oh my, boy, have you grown…” Marge sighs, pulling back to eye me up and down. Not sure if it’s an appropriate perusal either with the way her lashes flutter.
“Officially fifty. But who’s counting?”
“We are!” Shouts echo from behind me, my attention stolen at every angle of the outdoor entertaining space. It’s day one of my closer-to-the-grave-than-birth celebration week, as Abigail likes to call it, and the ranch has been completely transformed.
I’m honestly impressed. The cobblestone terrace that rests between the main house and guest barn is now covered with string lights, tables and chairs for seating, white and black balloons, a live acoustic band on the far side, and every person imaginable chatting amongst us.
I hate to admit it, but it’s not too bad.
Guests are still arriving, Abigail mentioning earlier we’re to expect around fifty in attendance for the main party on Friday. It’s now Wednesday, and I’m grateful only ten or so are actually crashing here for the week. Some have, thankfully, decided to get a hotel in town.
I’d evict myself if Abbi forced me to entertain fifty people in my home. Ten I can handle. But any more than that? Kill me now.
Heavy hands find my shoulders as some of my best buddies from college wrap me in welcomes. “You’re old as fuck, man,” Josh announces. “How could anyone forget those gray hairs?”
“Hilarious.” I shake my head before bringing them into a hug. “Shit. How long has it been? Ten years?”
“Since the last reunion,” Prater comments, still looking goofy as ever with his Clark Kent glasses and old girlfriend’s name tattooed on his neck. I’ll never let him live that down.
Deck and Atlas chime in, “God, I miss college.”
I cock a brow. “Not me. Pretty sure field line suicides would kill me at this age.”
“But we tore that town apart,” Josh chants, the other guys following suit. It’s always like this when we’re together—chaos.
We really did, though. Our graduating class holds a reunion every ten to twenty years. The last one was, now that I think about it, ten years ago, just like I thought. I can’t believe it’s been that long since we’ve seen each other.
We all live pretty widespread across Texas, and despite living in the same state, it’s hard to find time when we’re all free.
Time is a thief. And that’s part of having a busy life at the ripe age of fifty, I guess.
We played football together in college, setting personal and team records like they were going out of style. Now, the boys are all married with families of their own, aside from Prater. Not sure that wild fucker will ever tame his promiscuous self.
“Where’s the fam?” I ask, searching for their clones running ragged around the ranch.
Josh sips his beer. “Just us, my man. Abbi gave us the RV trailer out back for the next few days. We head home Saturday morning.”
“Shit. Well, thanks, guys. It really means a lot for you to come out. I know it’s not easy to get away these days.”
Deck grabs my empty beer bottle and leaves to get me a new one.
“Nowhere else we’d rather be,” Prater says, eyeing the gathering crowd.
There’s guests outside, mingling, drinking, and some even dancing.
I’m glad there’s still a slight chill to the air at night, despite how brutal the heat during the day is.
“So, any single women here you could introduce me to?” Prater gestures with his eyes.
“You sure as fuck ain’t bringin’ anyone back to the RV. Go woo her in the woods or something, but not there,” Josh retorts, making us break out in laughter.
Once an idiot, always an idiot. Some things never change.
“Not that I can think of…” I stammer. “Truthfully, I don’t have a clue who Abbi invited.”
“Nate coming?” Deck asks, replacing my beer and standing beside us again. The guys have met my best friend a handful of times, and for some reason, never clicked with him. I’ve never asked why, just respected that they didn’t enjoy being around him and left it at that.
“Abigail said he RSVP’d yes.” I haven’t seen Nate in…
shit…probably five years, at least. I met my long-time friend, Nathaniel McIntosh, when we were both in our early thirties.
Weird to gain a best friend as an adult, but Nate helped me through some tough shit—losing my parents and helping my sister.
He’s been solid, no matter how much of a cold prick he can be.
Even if he’s been a bit of a ghost lately.
Nate’s automotive business had just kicked off at the time, and he helped me get a good deal on some top-of-the-line machinery for the ranch. My pops ended up working beside his father, hitting it off right away, which then sealed our friendship.
He’s one of those friends that I don’t have to see or talk to daily to know he’s loyal. It will be good to see him if he actually shows. Speaking of, I pull my phone from my jeans and hope to god I’ll find a message from Cove on the screen.
Nope. But no surprise, there’s a message from Clay, reminding me he’ll have three boxes full of the latest Forbes Magazine to hand out like candy this week. I’d bet a full zero in my bank account he’ll have my feature tabbed and ready to market.
Not that this is the time or place, but Clay never turns down a business opportunity. Truthfully, I’m surprised the photos they took of me for the article aren’t plastered around the ranch by now.
Looking out into the night, I’m comforted by chatter from family and friends, Mustard making his rounds, getting scratches and food scraps wherever he can find them.
I know without worry my animals are safe and taken care of.
Creek, Granger, and Tuna are all-hands-on-deck this weekend, my sister insisting I not have to lift a finger.
Not sure I can remember a day I didn’t work. There’s always work to be done. But I can’t say I won’t try to enjoy it.
Caterers amble around us as I make my own rounds, thanking everyone for coming out. The man behind the acoustic guitar and mic asks for any special requests, and Prater shouts above the crowd, “Let’s hear some good ole ‘Strawberry Wine!’”
“The Deana Carter song?” Josh questions, unable to fight back his grin.
“Remember karaoke nights at Billy Bob’s? We had the whole bar singing along,” Prater replies, his voice already catching a bit of a tune.
How could I forget? Those were the best times of my life.
Not a care in the world about what tomorrow was to bring. I just lived in the moment. Feels like a rarity these days.
Unless I count these past few months…
“Speak of the devil.” My ears perk at Josh’s words, wondering who he means. It’s when Abigail makes a beeline toward the blacked-out Range Rover coasting up the gravel pathway to the main house that I note who it is.
Nate.
I look at Kyle and catch him smiling. That right there is why he’s the perfect match for my sister. Not a jealous bone in his body.
The Rover pulls to a stop, and Nate’s driver that I remember from years ago, Bryan, steps out. The crowd around me watches as Bryan closes his door, only to retreat to the passenger seat behind him and open it.
And there’s Nate, late and fashionably tailored to big money perfection. He buttons the lapels of his suit, stoic face taking in the exterior of the ranch around him. I’ve made some changes since he was last here, and he’s likely noting what they are. Observant fuck.
Before Nate can right himself, Abbi appears full force and stampedes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Shake n’ bake, Nate!” Seems she’s willing to bury the hatchet. They have always had this kinship I never understood.
Not to my surprise, Nate wraps one single arm around her lower back and returns the hug. I can’t hear what he says from here, but it’s probably something along the lines of, “Nice to see you, Abigail.”
Nate picks and chooses who he lets in, and although Abbi has always been on that list, she’s mistaken if she thinks he’ll entertain it in public.
“I hear Misty and Emma are in Greece for the week,” Kyle notes, walking up beside me. Kyle is good friends with one of Nate’s right-hand mechanics, so it makes sense he would know where his wife and daughter are.
I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.
One step forward to greet my friend has my steps halting in a millisecond. Not because of Nate, but because of the opposite rear door Bryan opens. A tall man with blond hair I’ve never seen before exits, his mannerisms strangely resembling those of Nate’s.
Except there’s a feminine silver clutch in his hands. One that reminds me a lot of the same one—
I’m unable to finish the thought because I’m no longer breathing, a sickness in the pit of my stomach making me feel both hurt and rage. My throat closes up. I hear nothing but static.
If my subconscious had a voice, it would be roaring.
Because next to step out of the car is a woman. And not just any woman. A woman with tan skin like silk to the touch, an hourglass figure, long black hair that just two weeks ago was tangled between my fingertips as I drove my cock deep inside of her. And a heart I’ve craved to know more of.
Cove stands tall. Poised. Confident. Ethereal in beauty. She reaches for the clutch I instantly recognized, the other hand making my insides burn in fury as her hand conjoins with the unfamiliar man’s, the two of them standing beside each other as a couple.
Arriving as a couple.
Cove is here. On my ranch. And on the arm of another man.
A man who is most definitely not me.
But the question my emotionally depleted brain keeps asking is, why did she arrive with Nate?
I knew something was wrong, and this change of events only solidifies it. I need to get myself together. I’m no use if I can’t form a proper sentence for answers.
Because I sure as fuck will be getting answers.
I’m just not sure I’ll like them.