Chapter 26
Lovesick Fool
I’ve been in Wyoming for a week, and I’m itching to get back to Bluebell.
I reached out to Briggs a while back like I promised Pops I would, but the man was impossible to pin down.
So when he finally returned my call a couple of weeks ago and invited me up to look at his cattle options and see how he runs his operation, I couldn’t pass it up.
The decision became much easier when Walker and Jensen offered to help Pops hold down the ranch while I was away.
The downside is not having Charlie here with me. I’d much rather be curled up in bed with her watching one of her favorite shows than stuck at a bar on a Saturday night.
After another jam-packed day of showing me around his property, Briggs suggested we stop for a beer. He might be a surly bastard, but he knows how to entertain and put on a good face when required. Not that I expected him to do any of that for me.
I’m a small fish in the big pond of large-scale cattle ranches, and he doesn’t owe me anything.
Still, he not only personally took me to see his top breeding stock but also gave me an extensive behind-the-scenes tour of his ranch and the processes his team has implemented allowing them to scale exponentially.
I’m under no illusion that Silver Saddle Ranch will ever be in that league, but we could adopt several of his processes to streamline our workflow and accelerate our growth.
From what I’ve seen, that would probably require not only hiring at least one foreman but also several more experienced hands, as well as a significant investment in infrastructure.
Briggs’s place alone employs over a hundred people, including ranch hands, equipment operators, and administrative staff.
It’s no wonder ranchers from all over the country beg to study his methods.
I’m lucky we’re friends and that he’s been willing to mentor me, mostly through emails and calls.
However, learning from him in person has been a game changer.
Still, I miss Charlie so damn much. She’s been going to bed early, so we haven’t had a chance to talk on the phone the past couple of days, but I’ve been checking in with texts since I left.
Briggs excused himself shortly after we got to the bar to take a phone call, so I send her a message while I wait for him to get back.
Heath: Got a text from Walker earlier. He clocked a certain redhead doing forty-five in a twenty-five-mile zone today. Know anything about that?
Charlie: I think he needs glasses. Must be a side effect of old age.
I roll my eyes. Walker’s a year younger than me.
Charlie: Smart of him not to pull over his pregnant sister-in-law.
Heath: How do you figure?
Charlie: I would’ve burst into tears, and he’d have regretted every life choice that led him there.
Heath: No doubt.
Charlie would’ve absolutely played it up, and I don’t blame her. With all the changes and restrictions pregnancy brings, she deserves to cause a little mischief when the occasion calls for it, and teasing Walker is fair game in my book.
Charlie: Wish you were here. I’m really horny.
Heath: Jesus, hellcat.
Charlie: I’m taking Betty for a spin. It’s not the same as that giant dick of yours, but it’ll have to do until you get home.
Heath: Show me.
Charlie sent a photo
I glance around to make sure no one’s close enough to see my screen before viewing it, angling the phone toward my chest.
Charlie’s lying on the bed, legs wide, the vibrator deep inside her, and her mouth forming a perfect “O” as she lets out what I imagine is a breathy moan. My wife is a damn vision. I’d give anything to be there with her, burying my face between her thighs as she falls apart on my tongue.
Charlie: Wishing you were here, aren’t you?
Heath: Hell yes. I’d bury myself so deep you’d feel me for days.
Charlie: I’m soaked just thinking about it.
Heath: Only three more days until I’m home.
Charlie: Counting the hours.
A smile crosses my face, loving that she misses me as much as I do her and can’t wait until I can finally hold her in my arms again.
Briggs returns to my side, sliding his chair over to give himself more space before taking a seat. The man is at least six-five, only adding to his already commanding presence.
I look around and notice several women openly gawking at us from across the room. Their eyes linger with obvious interest, but I pay them no mind. There’s only one woman I want, and she’s at home right now, getting off with my name on her lips.
Briggs is oblivious to the attention, his dark steel-gray eyes glued to his phone. I seriously doubt a woman is on the other end unless it’s business-related. I don’t hold a candle to him as a workaholic. The man never switches off, making work his default setting.
He glances up long enough to signal the bartender, and two whiskeys appear in front of us almost instantly.
“Thanks.” I tip my hat at the bartender. “Does everyone get the white-glove treatment around here?” I ask Briggs with amusement.
He shrugs, running a hand across his beard. “Doubt it. I’m an investor in the place.”
Of course he is. From what I’ve heard, the man has a stake in more ventures than I have horses.
I rest my elbow on the bar, turning slightly toward Briggs. “Let me guess, you own the whole damn town too?”
“Only half,” he deadpans before knocking back a swig of whiskey.
I let out a low whistle. “You’ve accomplished a hell of a lot at forty-five.”
“Forty-four,” he mutters.
“And Charlie calls me old.” I smirk, lifting my glass for a drink.
“That woman of yours is a real firecracker, isn’t she?” He’s heard me talk about her enough to say it without hesitation.
“That she is,” I answer with a broad grin. “How about you? Have anyone waiting for you at home?”
I’m not one for small talk, but Briggs never talks about his life outside of work. That’s piqued my curiosity about his personal relationships, or lack thereof, based on the rumors I’ve heard since I got here.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I have a closet full of skeletons and a mountain of hate I have no intention of letting go of. No sane woman would stick around if she knew what was good for her. I’ve made peace with the fact that I’ll die alone.”
“Careful,” I warn with a smirk, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “I used to say the same thing, and now I have a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home and a kid on the way.”
“Maybe, but I bet you always wanted those things,” Briggs counters.
I nod.
He’s right. I used to wish I had a wife and kids of my own, and now that I’m halfway there, I realize just how damn lucky I really am.
“It makes sense, considering your background,” Briggs continues.
“You grew up with a father who believed in you and a family who supported you. I had a tyrant with a powerful backhand who had enough bastard kids to populate a small town.” He hesitates for a second, and I swear I see him shudder, but it’s over in a blink.
“There’s no telling how many half-siblings I have running around.
I’ve already had to ward off my fair share trying to get a piece of the fortune I’ve built with my own blood and sweat.
” He drains the last of his whiskey and waves the bartender over for another.
“If my old man hadn’t kicked the bucket when he did, he would have run the business into the ground. ”
I can’t imagine the hell Briggs has lived through.
It reminds me of Charlie’s situation with her parents not being around.
I sympathize, but I’ll never truly grasp the pain of wondering why someone would abandon their child or treat them with anything less than love and protection.
It hits a lot harder now that I’m about to become a dad.
“Sorry you’ve had to go through all that,” I say, taking a drink of my whiskey. “But just because you had a shitty father doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be a good one.”
“You used to be a hell of a lot more cynical,” Briggs observes with a humorless laugh. “Guess it’s true what they say about love changing a man.”
I haven’t outright said it to her yet, but there’s no question that I love Charlie and that I’m a much better man with her as my wife.
“Yeah, it does,” I agree, scrubbing a hand over my face. “The problem is I never want to leave her side, but the ranch demands so much of my time lately. It’s a fucking nightmare to balance it all.”
Briggs arches a brow. “Do you not have enough ranch hands? I can give you some recommendations if you need them. We get hundreds of applications every month, and there are plenty of qualified candidates looking for good wages and honest work that we don’t have enough room to bring on here.”
“I appreciate that.” I avert my gaze, rubbing the back of my neck. “What I really need is a foreman, but I’ve been putting it off for nearly a year.”
“Why’s that?”
“Mostly because I’ve been too damn stubborn to accept change, convinced I knew best when in reality I was just afraid of losing control.”
In hindsight, I recognize how that fear held me back and how foolish I’ve been not to accept that I didn’t have to do everything alone.
Hell, even now I’ve had Pops support even when he didn’t agree.
Briggs was right about how lucky I am to have my family, and I thank god for their presence in my life.
Briggs straightens up when the bartender brings him another drink but leaves it untouched in favor of responding to me.
“I may be jaded, but even I can acknowledge that if you’re lucky enough to find someone worth holding on to, you should fight like hell to do right by them,” he says, his tone almost wistful.
Briggs’s candid response has me thinking about what’s in Charlie’s best interest. It’s me being home for dinner, getting to spend quality time with our daughter once she arrives, and going to bed with her every night instead of staying up late reviewing supply orders and payroll.
I’m reminded of what Pops has told me countless times—put the people in my life who matter most first, and everything else second.
Despite dragging my feet for so long, I’m willing to admit I need to get my head out of my ass. And I’m prepared to start making changes on the ranch that’ll ensure I’m prioritizing what matters most—Charlie and our baby.
After a long day, I crashed the second my head hit the pillow. That’s why I’m so disoriented when it feels like only minutes have passed before I’m jolted awake by an incessant ringing. I groan, rolling over to check the clock on the nightstand. It’s three o’clock in the morning.
My phone goes off again, confirming it’s the source of all the racket, and I fumble to turn on the bedside lamp, squinting against the sudden brightness.
“This better not be a damn spam call,” I mutter, swiping to answer the unknown number. “This is Heath Halstead.”
Alarm bells go off in my head before the person on the other end even speaks.
What if something bad happened to Charlie?
I tried calling when I got back to my cabin, but it went straight to voicemail. I’d assumed she’d already gone to bed.
When the person finally replies, I’m stunned—not expecting to hear her voice. For a moment, I think my worst fears have come true, but then they keep talking.
“Whoa, slow down. Can you repeat that?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
Hearing it a second time leaves me flooded with both relief and sadness. I jump out of bed and yank on the Wranglers I wore yesterday. I wedge the phone between my chin and shoulder while I stuff my belongings into my duffel.
“Does Charlie know yet?” I listen to the answer as I scramble to pack the rest of my stuff. “Okay. I’m heading out now. If I drive straight through, I should get there before noon. I’ll bring her over, and we can tell her together. I’m really sorry,” I add quietly.
Dread coils tight in my chest as I picture how this life-altering news will affect Charlie.
No matter how badly I want to call her, I agree it’s better to wait and tell her in person.
The stress could trigger complications with the pregnancy or her diabetes, and I won’t put her or our baby at risk.
I need to get to Bluebell as fast as humanly possible and be by her side when she finds out.
Heath: I have a family emergency. Heading back to Bluebell early.
Briggs: Keep me posted.
Heath: Thanks, man.
It’s the middle of the night, but I’m not surprised he’s up. He’s probably still in his office working. For someone who preaches the importance of delegating and does it well, he still works around the clock.
On my way out the door, I check the time. I can’t afford any stops except for gas if I’m going to make it to Bluebell in time. It’s Saturday, and Charlie usually sleeps in before opening the shop early in the afternoon, so I have to get there before then or risk someone else breaking the news.