Chapter 6: A False Start: Chapter 6

I’m cutting into my slice of prime rib with more force than necessary, still fuming over the big, dopey Ken doll trying to force a drink on my best friend’s little sister. No one else saw, and even if they did, it wouldn’t bug them as much.

But as a person who steers clear of the stuff, it gets my hackles up. I don’t know what Nadia’s reasons are, and it doesn’t seem like he does either. All that aside, a man should always take no for an answer. If you have to pressure a woman into doing something, you’re a pencil-prick with no manners. In my book anyway.

And this guy is one of those. Big talker, a shiny small-town showboat. I recognize it because that used to be me.

Minus the not taking no for an answer. My mama taught me better than that.

“This is so good, Stefan.” The petite blonde across the table, who introduced herself as Violet, smiles kindly over the quiet clanking of cutlery. Other murmurs of assent fill the space while everyone chows down.

“Glad to hear it. I love cooking for you guys.” Stefan grins at his wife. A charged grin that almost makes me a little jealous. All these people seem so damn happy in each other’s company.

I’m out of my element. I haven’t been in the habit of meeting new people for several years now. I’m out of practice. Most of the people sitting here are new to me. Stefan and Mira I know well, but the rest not so much. I know Billie now, or at least she talked at me like we know each other.

For a few years there, it was just Stefan. He was the only person I spent time with, aside from my parents. When he bought this place from me, he was so fucking clueless. I couldn’t figure out why someone who knew almost nothing about running a farm would want one. So, I offered to help him in my free time. Teach him the ropes.

The only reason I offered is because when we met, his eyes didn’t widen, he didn’t ask for an autograph, and he didn’t inquire about where I’d disappeared to, which meant he had no idea who I was.

A sincere was all I got. And that sliver of anonymity gave me the freedom to be a completely new person around Stefan. Of course, my history eventually became known. But on my terms. Stefan liked me for me, grumbly prick that I’d become. Our friendship foundation had nothing to do with who we’d been and everything to do with who we both were at that moment when we met.

Two lonely motherfuckers with pasts we’d rather leave, well, in the past.

Violet continues to carry the conversation. “Nadia, I heard Billie is going to give you riding lessons this summer.”

The young woman beside me, who I’ve been trying my damndest to ignore, stiffens ever so slightly. She places her fork down carefully, like every movement is planned. Intentional. Like she’s playing the role of someone soft and demure.

The girl in the bathroom wasn’t this reined in. She was wild. Demanding.

she’d said. The one word that pierced my shields. I almost did it, too. Kissed her again. I was so close, but something held me back.

And now, spending the summer here in her general vicinity, I know I’m going to have to keep holding myself back. Pushing her away.

“Yeah. Yes, I think I’d like that. I’m pretty comfortable working with the horses. It seems like a natural progression to learn to ride.”

“I’m happy to help when I have time. I’m not sure Billie understands how tired she’s going to be once the babies arrive.” She grins at her friend knowingly.

Billie just rolls her eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

It’s under the din of laughter that I notice Tommy’s hulking frame lean in on the opposite side of Nadia. He drops his voice, but not low enough. “Should we tell them you already know how to ride real well?”

Nadia stops chewing, her eyes shifting around the table to see if anyone heard. Her warm brown irises flash to mine for only a moment before they drop back down to her plate.

She knows I heard what he said, and she can’t even look at me because of it. He embarrassed her.

My teeth grind. I want to say something so badly—I want to smash his big dumb face into his plate—but I swallow my rage and carry on brutalizing my steak.

“Violet might be right, you know.” Vaughn doesn’t even glance at Billie as he says it, like even he knows his wife will injure him for trying to tell her what to do. “Just a thought.” He snorts in a poor attempt to contain his amusement, obviously sensing her unimpressed stare on his face.

“Thanks, .” The words cut and Vaughn’s cheeks twitch. The few times I’ve been around these two have been enough for me to know they enjoy the push and pull of these confrontations. It’s charming, in a way. “But I’m pretty sure I can decide what I can handle.”

“I c—” I talk before my brain has enough time to shut it down, stopping on the hard -sound of . My brain to mouth connection is questionable at the best of times, so I guess leave it to me to blurt something stupid out now. “I will. If you’re not able.”

Billie points her fork at me and narrows her eyes. “Thanks Griff. That’d be great.

,” she glares at her husband, “will let you know if I need you to step in.”

I nod and turn my attention back down to my plate, wishing I hadn’t risked talking in front of everyone. Especially by volunteering to spend more time with a girl that I should stay far away from.

Especially considering the way she’s looking at me right now.

“I love having you around.” My mother smiles at me like she’s worried she might scare me away.

We’ve always been close, my parents and me. But when things went to shit a few years ago, they let me retreat and lick my wounds. They didn’t force my hand or tell me what to do, but they gave me an ultimatum and have never given up on me, even when I’m sure they wanted to.

When I was spiraling down the drain, they were the ones who picked me up and gave me the ass kicking I needed. They didn’t judge me or make me feel like shit about my fall from grace. Their support—their love—was and still is unwavering.

I hate to think about where I’d be without them.

“It’s nice being close enough to pop in.” I lean close to my mother’s petite frame and wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders. “I love you, Mom.” My lips press against the black hair at her temple.

“I love you, too, sweet boy. Thanks for joining me for a coffee date. Can you believe how different pour-over coffee tastes?”

This is my mother’s new obsession. Pour-over coffee. Some fancy kettle. A scale to weigh the beans. Organic beans washed with love and positive energy or some shit. It all sounds a bit woo-woo to me, but she’s so pleased with herself that it’s almost impossible not to share in her fascination.

Plus, even I must admit the coffee is good.

“It was delicious.” I stand with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. “Let’s do this again next t-t-t . . .” My lips thin and I sigh, trying not to beat myself up. “When Dad golfs next.”

She doesn’t react. She knows me well enough to know how much the stutter pisses me off. Instead, she carries on like she didn’t notice, even though I know she did. How could you not?

“That would be perfect.” She claps her hands together softly as we walk to the front door of their spacious condominium. It’s nestled up into the base of Garnet Ridge, just one town over from Ruby Creek. When I sold the ranch, the one I purchased with my shiny new contract all those years ago, I bought them this place in a 55+ community. Beautiful views of the valley, and right on the golf course where my dad enjoys spending all his free time. I live on the mountain above them now and Dad likes to joke that if he squints real hard, he can see me moping around.

They’re happy, and that makes me happy. After everything they’ve done for me, I wish I could do more.

Feet back in my boots and arms slid into my jean jacket, I turn to give her one more hug.

“Any pretty girls on that farm?” She smiles into my neck.

Except . I don’t know if I can do for them.

“Mom.” My tone is warning, but playful.

“Griffy, it’s the grandbaby-rabies. I’m sick. I can’t help it.”

I shake my head with a small smile. “Seek treatment, Mom.”

We share a look and then I turn to leave, knowing I need to get back to Gold Rush Ranch to start my new job. A job among people and a community that I’ve spent years hiding from. I grew up riding. My grandfather was a bronc rider and would sit me up on many a horse. I spent my days following him around and learning everything I could about colt starting. Until I found football.

Football was my universe until it wasn’t. But getting back into working with young horses has proven to be almost therapeutic for me. Taking on a few training horses up at my farm keeps me busy enough.

I cruise the winding roads under clear blue skies, the harsh sunlight bouncing off the brim of my hat. Just as I drop my concentration from the road to grab a piece of my favorite cinnamon gum, I catch a flash of gray out of the corner of my eye.

And then I feel a small thump under my front driver’s side wheel.

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I just hit something. My heart constricts as I pull over to see what I’ve done. Another thing for me to beat myself up about. Killed a fucking bunny or something.

But when I hop out of my truck on the quiet country road, I don’t see a rabbit. I see a filthy pile of matted hair whimpering in the ditch. My pulse ratchets up at the sight.

“Whoa, boy.” I hold out a hand as I scale the steep side of the ditch. “What are you?”

Small black eyes squint back at me, and I decide it must be a dog. A very worse for wear dog. It’s trembling, and the closer I draw, the more rigid it becomes. “I’m sorry, fella.” One of his hind legs is twisted at an angle that it should not be. “I got you.”

I reach out for the little dog, alarmed by how skinny it is when I pick it up. It just shakes and whines, clearly in shock, as I race back to the truck with it in my arms. At least I know where to take him. Luckily, I’m friends with one of the best veterinarians in the area.

When I whip into the parking lot in front of the onsite vet clinic at Gold Rush Ranch, the dog is in much the same condition. I scoop him up, wrapping him in a towel from my back seat, and dart into the clinic.

Nadia is at the front desk, showing another woman something on the computer. Her face gives nothing away when she looks up at me.

“I need help.”

“What is that?” She points at the mess in my arms, confusion lacing her tone.

“I hit a dog.”

“Oh shit.” She shoots up instantly and hustles around the desk, brow furrowed as she pulls the towel away to peek at the canine. “How long ago?”

“Maybe t—nine minutes ago?”

“

minutes?” Her nose scrunches up, like she thinks I’m fucking weird. But I don’t care. I’m not going to stumble over the word in front of her. “Oddly specific. But okay, at least you talk to me now,” she mutters as her eyes roll. But her hands are already reaching for him. She’s not wasting a second. “I’ll take him back. Let’s just try not to jostle him too much.”

Without missing a beat, she steps in close to me; her toned arms slide inside of mine, trying to replace my positioning without moving the stoic little dog.

“Okay, got him.”

She hits me with a terse smile. And then she’s gone. Leaving me with the light scent of sweet roses that I still remember from two years ago.

The one I haven’t forgotten to this day.