10. Silas #2
“It was, until Willow and Dallas started taking turns calling me with guest list changes. The Meyers aren’t coming, they’ve got a sick aunt in Buffalo.
The Smiths want to bring their kids—but they’d like the kids to be at their table, not the kids’ table.
Oh, and . . .” she lifts a card with a bitter laugh, “. . . both Mr. and Mrs. Greyson are still coming but they’re currently separated and would like to sit separately.
” She looks at me with wide eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
I don’t recognize any of the names so I’m certainly not the one to help her. “I say you make the bride and groom work for their wedding.”
She sighs like she’s considered it. “Not with the new baby, I don’t want them stressing over this stuff.”
Like she’s found new determination, her eyes fixate on the chart again, her mind working.
“Hey . . .” I pull her attention away for a moment, if only to remind her to breathe. “When are you and my brother getting married? I see revenge in your future.” I wink. “Maybe plan the same excuse, if you know what I mean.”
She chuckles, shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Ugh, planning a wedding for someone is like birth control for getting engaged.” She glances over my shoulder and smiles softly. “Pretty sure your brother feels the same.”
I turn, finding Wilder leaning against the back doorway, with his cowboy hat still firmly on, a hint of a grin laced with annoyance.
Rose stands. “Hey, who else do Mr. and Mrs. Greyson know that’s coming?”
His eyes flick upwards. “Mrs. Greyson can stay at the table you had them on. Move Mr. Greyson to sit with Dad—but might want to check with him first. The guy can be chatty.”
She sighs and lifts her phone. “Be right back.”
After a quick kiss at the doorway, Rose steps out back.
Wilder comes in and backhands my good bicep. “Hell’s the matter with you?”
“Ow.”
“You don’t ask a woman when her boyfriend’s gonna propose.”
“I was making a joke.” I grip my arm, stretching the weaker one. “But hey, if you’re not planning on it, think you ought to let her know that?” I tease.
He swings his head back. “Keep your voice down. Of course I’m planning on it. This Christmas as a matter of fact.”
“Wow. You sure? I mean, she looks like she freaks out easily.” I chuckle.
“More sure about her than I’ve been about anything.”
“Does Wes know?”
“You’re the first one I’ve told.”
I glare at him.
“Okay, Dallas . . . and Dad. And he probably told Ginger.”
I shake my head. “Well at least I’m not last.” I chuckle. “Geez, can you guys keep a secret at all?”
Guilt flashes in his eyes before he drops his gaze. “As a matter of fact, we can.”
A little after lunch, I park my car outside The Shack and step inside the restaurant for my afternoon caffeine fix. The smell of grilled meat and low hum of conversation wraps around me.
Wesley’s behind the bar, helping the waitstaff as usual. He winks when he sees me and says something to the girl at the coffee bar and she nods.
“Hey,” Wes calls, glancing out the window. “Pretty ballsey driving that thing with one hand.”
I grin. “We understand each other.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Not a risk I’d take. Come on back to the kitchen. They’re all in there.”
I frown and it’s followed by a resigned sigh.
Great. More people.
Where I lived in the city, I have my own place, my own quiet.
Noise and company came in predictable doses.
Practice, games, locker rooms, the occasional bar where camaraderie is a choice but more importantly, temporary.
Things I didn’t always have growing up out here, where space is shared and opinions are loud, with no way of shutting it out or knowing when the next one’s coming.
And heck, I might have even missed that under different circumstances.
Right now, everywhere I turn, there’s someone keeping an eye on my recovery, weighing in, offering advice I didn’t ask for.
A nearly newlywed couple tangled up in each other.
Wedding plans, babies. My dad dropping his wisdom in careful, half-phrased sentences.
And one angry, beautiful blonde I can’t seem to read no matter how hard I try.
Now I can barely stop in for my iced coffee without someone pulling me into the kitchen like it’s some group sport.
I nod, because saying no feels rude, and it’s not like I have an excuse to bail.
I follow him into the large gourmet kitchen. Equipped with appliances Dad would have never spent the kind of money on when he ran it. There’s a large island with a built-in sink. It’s not industrially bright, there’s still that natural light beaming in from the windows, but still pretty modern.
Dad is sitting on the bar stool along with Ellie and that kid I met yesterday—Max—each with a bowl of ice cream. Dallas is pacing along the opposite side of the counter on the phone, stressed enough to make me think it’s a wedding vendor. He doesn’t stress like this over work.
All but my brother turn when Wes and I enter.
I look at Max first, giving him a wink as his eyes stretch wide.
“Uncle Silas!” Ellie jumps off the counter and races to me.
“Ellie, he can’t—”
I lift my niece up with one arm—proving Dad wrong—and bring her in for a quick squeeze. She just turned eight and is noticeably heavier than when she first joined our family last summer. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Grandpa let me have chocolate ice cream with sprinkles.”
“I can see that,” I say, eyes roaming over the chocolate smudge around the lower half of her face. I set her on the counter.
“Everyone can see that,” Dallas adds, still on the phone as he walks over with a wet paper towel. I take it from him and start wiping Ellie’s face.
“Hey, kid.” I glance over at Max. “Good to see you again. What flavor you got?”
“Orange sorbet.”
“Sorbet?” My brows rise. “You been spending too much time with Ginger.”
“It’s Mom’s favorite.”
Dad’s sitting next to him, and I catch his eyes flick in my direction.
“Ah, you said your mom works here, right? Don’t you have better things to do than hang out in a kitchen with these two?” I move my thumb between Dad and my brother. “Ginger’s way more fun—that woman used to let me get away with everything.”
Probably because she felt bad for me, but we won’t get into that.
“Mr. Thorne is cool.”
I glance at my dad. “In what universe?”
“It’s like fifty degrees outside and I’m eating ice cream.”
“You make a good point.” I open the freezer and take out a carton of the orange sorbet. “I’ve got to try this.”
“Wait,” he calls, jumping off the stool. “It’s way better with sprinkles. We’ll go get you some.”
Ellie hops off and follows him out to the main bar.
I dig out a spoon. “Cute kid. Kind of cool you and Ginger babysit for the staff.”
Dad and Dallas exchange a glance. Then Dad leans back in his chair. “We don’t, so don’t go spreading false rumors. Max is an exception.”
I frown, reaching for a few chocolate chips from the bowl, then smirk. “You don’t make exceptions. So why don’t you tell me who he really is.”
Dad watches me with a frown but there’s suspicion behind it.
“I’ll bet the kid’s related to Ginger. Heard you mention his name when you were picking up lunch yesterday. Why would you be having picnics with him unless he’s somehow related to your girlfriend?”
Dad knocks lightly on the counter. “Can’t get one past you. Say, why don’t you take Ellie and Max over to the training pen. Think Storm wanted to give the ponies a few walks with the kids leading them.”
I rub the back of my neck with a wince. “Doubt she’d be thrilled seeing me twice in one day.”
“Dad,” Dallas cuts in. His tone a mix of question and warning.
Dad waves him off. “She’ll be friendly given the kids are around. Go ahead. Dallas was going to take them, but he’s got his hands full this afternoon.”
My brother glares at Dad and I’m picking up on something I don’t like.
“Do you not trust me with Ellie?”
Dallas jerks. “What? No. That’s not at all—”
“Look, I get it, you don’t want me anywhere near your farm or your cattle, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my niece and a staff member’s kid.”
Dallas scoffs, scratching his beard. “Look, I don’t know what your problem’s been with me since you got here, and I was going to give you a little bit of a heads-up about something, but since you’re being a dick—never mind,” he clips, then grins, but it’s almost wicked. “Have fun.”