“Ready to ride the horses?” Oliver Washington slapped him on the back, and Jake grunted.
“Not if you’re going to dislocate my shoulder.Ow.” He rubbed the spot.
“If you think you’re sore now, wait until later. I haven’t been on a horse since I was a kid.”
Jake eyed Oliver. The two of them had started the same day at Precision—had met on the elevator, in fact. Oliver was hired as the Chief of Operations for Management Information Services, and over the years they’d become close friends. Oliver and his wife, Melissa, were Stacey’s godparents. He and Erica—along with Maria and Keisha, his secretary—were his circle of trust.
“I’ve never been,” Jake confessed, and Oliver’s dark-brown eyes grew wide.
“You’re kidding me.”
“No. I grew up in the city. Why would I have ever been on a horse?” He scowled at his friend who, used to Jake’s moodiness, did what he always did. Ignored him.
“Hey, if a Black kid from Brooklyn could, I assumed you did as well. You go to camp?”
“No. My mother didn’t bother sending me.”Didn’t botherwas code for his single mother not wasting her money on luxuries like camp. He’d made do with the fire hydrants and city pools, and when he grew old enough to take the subway to the beach by himself, that was what he did. It became one of his favorite places to go and unwind, and it was there, the summer after grad school, that he’d met Brian, both of them standing in line at Nathan’s, waiting for their orders of fried clams.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Oliver nudged his shoulder. “I can’t wait to see you in the saddle. Like a real cowboy.” He cackled.
“Shut up.” Remembering his actual cowboy from last night, Jake cringed at the thought of seeing Shea.
The rest of their team had congregated by this time and milled about. Their chairman and CEO, Robert Clarke, faced them with a wide grin on his round face. A big cowboy hat perched on his bald head, and he wore a red-checked shirt with a handkerchief knotted at the throat. His pudgy stomach bulged over a big silver belt buckle. He was normally dressed in Canali Italian suits and tailor-made shirts, and Jake had to bite back a smile at his getup.
“Bet you a doughnut Clarke’s never worn a pair of jeans in his life,” Erica whispered to him and Oliver, and Jake had to duck his head to keep from breaking out into laughter. He’d rarely, if ever, joined in any of the after-office get-togethers when he was married, not when he had Stacey and Brian waiting for him at home. He’d loved being home with his family. Once Brian left, there was even less reason to make up excuses for why he needed to be home early and couldn’t go to dinners or bars, so he’d rarely seen Clarke in a relaxed environment like a dude ranch before.
“Thank you all for coming to our annual retreat. Precision is one big family, and we know that in these next few days we’re going to foster an even greater sense of community and family.”
As Clarke spoke, Jake watched as a woman in her midfifties, her dark hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, entered the room from a set of doors he hadn’t noticed.
“Morning, everyone, and welcome to Forget Me Not.” Her soft voice held a sweet drawl Jake found himself smiling at in response. Her bright-blue eyes scanned the room. “I’m Patty, and if y’all wanna come with me, I’ll lead you to your breakfast.”
They followed her slim figure clad in faded jeans and a white T-shirt. A sprinkling of flowers decorated the front, along with the words “Forget Me Not” stenciled in blue. The size and scope of the ranch’s main house proved deceptive from the relatively modest front. Patty led them past several rooms filled with comfortable-looking furniture and tall bookcases. She slid open a wide door to reveal a large, fully glassed-in sunroom with a long scrubbed wooden table and cushioned chairs. Everything spelled comfort and warmth, especially with the early morning sun beaming in through the windows.
“Oh, this is beautiful. So cheerful and welcoming.” Erica touched the fresh flowers on the table. “Are these forget-me-nots?”
“Yes. They grow willy-nilly ’round here.” Patty smiled at her. “Now if y’all take your seats, we’ll bring out your coffee and breakfast. I hope you’re hungry.”
Jake’s stomach, still tender from all the alcohol the night before and the puking and aspirin that morning, sent him a warning twist of pain. He took a chair at the end of the table, next to Oliver and across from Erica.
“What’s wrong, Jake? You look sick.” Erica poured him a glass of iced water from the pitcher. “You feeling okay?”
He gulped the water and poured another, feeling better as he hydrated more. He debated telling them what happened, then decided against it. Hopefully Shea was busy doing whatever he had to do on the ranch, and Jake wouldn’t see him much.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just had a rough plane ride and a late night. I’ll be okay.”
The swinging doors opened, and Patty, along with two other men, came in, holding platters of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon. Baskets of rolls and butter crocks already sat on the table, along with a tray of delicious-looking pastries. They started at his end.
“We have turkey bacon, pork, as well as chicken sausages.” Her eyes twinkled. “Last time we had a group from New York, we learned some things. If you need anything, please ask me, or Craig or Johnny here. Oh, and we have coffee brewing. Just getting it poured into carafes for y’all.”
“Thank you,” Jake murmured to her when she handed him the platter of breakfast meats. He handed it right over to Oliver. “Is it possible to get any fruit?”
Her sharp eyes gave him the once-over. “Of course. I’ll get a plate made up for you special.” She directed the two men. “Boys, set them platters down and see what’s takin’ so long with the coffee while I make this gentleman up some fruit.”
“I appreciate it. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Aren’t you the darlin’ to worry. Of course it isn’t. No trouble at all.”
“Excuse me, do you have any oat milk?” Lucy McBride’s husky voice rose above the others. “I’m lactose intolerant. Is there milk in the pancakes or the eggs?”
