“Oh?”
He nods, tongue glossing over his teeth. “You know why Wes is here?”
I meet his stare and my head bobs in acknowledgement.
“I imagine Wes said somethin’ to ya and you had quite a bit to say back.”
“Did he tell you that?” My arms cross over my chest and my temperrises, heating my whole face.
Pops chuckles. “He didn’t, but you’re always gettin’ bees in your bonnet over somethin’ or other, and I know you and Wes have had a disagreement or five since he got here.”
I snort derisively.
“Listen, Sawyer. I know Wes. He’s a good boy, a good man. I always dreamed the ranch would go to him one day. He loved it out here when he was young.” Pops shakes his head back and forth as he stares at my scarred kitchen table. “But he’s gotten himself lost. He’s not who he once was, and if I thought he was happy, well then, I’d let sleepin’ dogs lie, but the light he used to have behind his eyes has gone dark.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, letting Pops talk even though I have no idea why he’s disclosing any of this to me.
“I made Wes a deal. If he stayed at Dawson Ranch until Thanksgiving, then I’d sell the place.”
I slam my mug down on the cheap kitchen table, making it wobble dangerously. “Pops! You can’t sell! You love Dawson Ranch.”
He grimaces and bows his head, studying the grain of the wood on my table. “I do love it, but what’s the use of keeping it when I’ve got no one to share it with, Sawyer?”
His statement brings me up short, and I bite my lip to stop myself from badgering him.
“Once upon a time, I'd thought Rick would want to take over when I was too old, but he met Janine and there was nothing I could do to get him to stay after that. She wanted the city life, and he had no real love for this place. It was a job, but it didn’t bring him the same joy it brings me. But Janine did. So, I sat back and watched my only son move on. Once they had Wes and Quinn, I asked Rick if he’d send them here over the summer, so I could show them what life was like on the ranch.
“They loved being here, and I had such high hopes that despite Rick not being inclined to take over the ranch that Wes or Quinn would. But once they graduated, they stopped comin’ out to help in the summer. They stayed in the city. Got jobs. They moved on. And I stayed here.
"I made it work as long as I could, and God knows, I’d keep going if I could. But the writing is on the wall. This is a young man’s game and I’m much too old to keep doin’ it.”
He raises his glass to his lips and takes a deep swallow.
I tense, body rigid and ready to swing at something. “You’re giving up the ranch? Just like that.”
“Now, I didn’t say that. Did I?” He strokes his mustache and gives me a sly grin.
I lean forward. “What’s your diabolical plan, old man?”
“Wes is my last chance for this place to stay in the family for another generation. I need your help to remind him what he always loved about it here. I need you to make him fall in love with Cottonwood Creek again.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I consider Pops from across the table. “Pops, you know I want to help, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with Wes. We can barely stand each other.”
His mustache twitches as he looks at me in amusement. “I’m not askin’ ya to climb into bed with the boy, Sawyer. I said make him love thetown,notyou.”
My face flames in embarrassment. Of course, he’s not telling me to have sex with his grandson. That would be absurd. But now that he’s said it, I can’t help but picture Wes’ hands on me. His mouth between my thighs and his tongue doing wicked things that make me...
I blink hard, trying to force the image from my mind.
I clear my throat. “So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
Pops gives me a knowing smile, making me blush even harder. “Invite him to come help you train a horse. He loves riding, and every time he passes my empty stable, his face falls a little. Horses are good therapy. And that boy could use a little therapy. And maybe the horses will help him find himself while they’re at it.”
I tilt my head to the side, taking another drink of my coffee. “I guess I can do that.”
Pops slaps his hands on his thighs. “Atta girl. I knew I could count on you. Love ya, darlin’,” he says as he rises out of the chair and sets his mug in my sink. “Take it easy on the boy, would ya? He’s got a soft heart.”
There’s a boulder sitting in my throat as I nod. “Love you, Pops.”
