“I broke his heart when I left at eighteen. But he told me when he passed, I had to come home and run the family ranch. I gave him my word, and we were on good terms up to the day he passed.” Spencer had tried to explain to Nathan several times, but his reasons didn’t reach Nathan’s understanding.
“You could have sold the ranch. You don’t belong in Montana.”
“I know you think my grandfather wouldn’t know since he’s buried under the ground, but I want to pay him back for raising me. My promise wasn’t to deceive him.”
Nathan grinned but at the same time kept an eye on his boy. “One day you’ll make me understand your promise.”
“Let’s drink to that.”
They sipped their beer and laughed at each other like old times.
Nathan handed him the keys. “For your cabin. I stacked the refrigerator. This Find a DaddyChristmas mixer will have a room of possibilities. Just don’t scare them off with horse stories too soon.”
Spencer shook his head. “No promises.”
They clinked bottles again, and Spencer let himself sink into the moment: the music, the laughter, the low hum of connection.For the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe something incredible was about to begin.
Alfie looked desperate to escape the red-haired man, finally broke free and hurried over to their table, where he quickly sat down on Nathan’s lap.
“Hey, there are lots of littles coming to the mixer. I saw the list,” Alfie told Spencer.
“I just want one.” He noticed the man with fire-engine red hair was talking to another young man. He got a bad feeling about him but couldn’t pinpoint why.
“What did Daddy Red want from you?” Nathan asked.
“He wanted to know if I needed a daddy, and I pointed to you and said I have one.”
“Then why was he still talking to you?” Nathan asked.
“Don’t know.”
“What’s on for tomorrow?” Spencer asked, changing the subject before Nathan pushed too far.
“Shopping for the party. I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to call it a night, and I’ll see you at noon.”
“Hey, I put your favorite foods in the cabin with beer too,” Nathan said.
“Thanks. I’m glad you called me.”
Spencer left the bar, boots crunching over the thin layer of snow that had settled. The cold bit his cheeks, but the beer in his system kept him warm enough. There was a brand-new Jeep parked in the lot that caught his attention. Then the man who was hitting on Alfie exited the club and made his way right to it.
Spencer’s cabin wasn’t far; just a few winding turns through the woods, but as he rounded the bend near the old gas station, his headlights caught something unusual.
A guy. Young. Sitting on the side of the road like he’d just dropped out of the sky. No coat, no hat, just jeans and a hoodie,and snow gathering on his shoulders like he didn’t even notice. Spencer slowed down, heart thudding with that weird mix of concern and curiosity. He pulled over and rolled down the window. “You alright?” he asked.
The guy looked up, and Spencer swore something shifted in him. Those eyes—blue, glassy, and so damn sad—hit him like a punch to the chest. He didn’t answer right away, just froze like he wasn’t sure if Spencer was real.
“Hop in,” Spencer said, already reaching over to unlock the door.
The guy climbed in, shivering, and Spencer grabbed the blanket from the back and wrapped it around him blindly. The guy had been crying. Spencer could see it in the red rims of his eyes, the way his lips trembled even though he wasn’t speaking. He looked like a broken angel—too beautiful for the mess he was in.
Spencer turned up the heat, the truck humming louder as warm air spilled out. He glanced over, trying not to stare too hard.
“I’m Spencer Wallace,” he said.
“Jamie Butler.”
