“Cole’s in the shower,” Jesse said, gesturing toward the hallway. “He’ll be out in a minute. Y’all want something to drink? We’ve got beer, water, some kind of juice Evelyn brought over...”
“Beer sounds good,” I said, and Nick nodded in agreement.
Jesse headed for the kitchen, and Nick and I exchanged a glance. This was already awkward, and we hadn’t even met the other half of this couple yet.
“So,” Jesse called from the kitchen, “Evelyn says you two are newlyweds. How’s married life treating you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. The truth was complicated—that we’d started as a business arrangement, that I’d essentially bought Nick, that we’d somehow stumbled into something real despite all of that. But I didn’t know these people well enough to lay all that out.
“It’s an adjustment,” Nick said carefully, accepting the beer Jesse handed him. “But we’re figuring it out.”
“Aren’t we all,” Jesse muttered, taking a long pull from his own bottle. “Cole and I have been married for what, six months now? And I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time.”
There was something in his tone that suggested there was more to that story, but before I could ask, footsteps sounded from the hallway. A moment later, another man appeared, his dark hair still damp from the shower.
Cole Nelson. I saw him once or twice around town, though we’d never been formally introduced. He had tattoos, was muscular in the way that came from hard physical labor rather than a gym, and he carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing exactly who he was.
His eyes landed on me first, then shifted to Nick, and I saw something flicker across his face. Recognition, maybe, or assessment. Like he was trying to figure out if we were worth his time.
“Cole,” Jesse said, “this is Nick and Dante. The guys Evelyn’s been going on about.”
“Right.” Cole moved into the room, extending his hand first to Nick, then to me. His grip was firm, callused. “Good to meet you both. Sorry about the mess—Jesse’s idea of cleaning is shoving everything in a closet and hoping for the best.”
“Hey,” Jesse protested, but there was affection in his voice. “At least I try. You just leave your shit everywhere and expect it to magically put itself away. Evelyn is getting too old to pick up after you.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that…”
I watched them bicker, saw the easy familiarity in the way they moved around each other, and felt something twist in my chest. Was this what Nick and I looked like to other people? Was this what we could become if we kept at it?
“So, Evelyn says you’re ranchers too?” Nick asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I grew up hearing the Nelson name, but Dante’s new here.”
“Yep,” Cole said, settling into an armchair that looked like it had been well loved for many years. “Though our operation is smaller than what you’ve got. We do mostly grass-fed beef we sell direct to customers and a few restaurants.”
“That’s a good market,” Nick said, and I could hear the interest in his voice. He loved talking shop, loved learning about different approaches to ranching. “We’ve been thinking about diversifying our sales channels too.”
As Nick and Cole fell into conversation about cattle and markets and the challenges of ranching in Montana, I found myself zoning out a bit. Jesse came over to sit beside me, a mischievous look on his face.
“You,” he said with a grin, “are not from around here and that makes you interesting. What is that accent?”
I couldn’t help but smile at his directness. “Jersey. Newark, specifically.”
“Jersey!” Jesse’s eyes lit up like I’d just told him I was from Mars. “What the hell brings a Jersey boy all the way out here to the middle of nowhere Montana?”
I glanced at Nick, who was still deep in conversation with Cole about feed costs or something equally riveting. How muchshould I tell this guy? The truth felt too complicated, too messy to lay out for someone I’d just met.
“Marriage,” I said finally, gesturing toward Nick with my beer bottle. “And business. My family has...interestsin ranching.”
“Interests,” Jesse repeated, his grin widening. “That’s a fancy way of putting it. What, you guys some kind of cattle barons back east?”
“Something like that.” I took a long pull from my beer, hoping he’d drop it.
He didn’t.
“Come on, there’s gotta be more to it than that. Nobody just moves from New Jersey to Montana for ‘business interests.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, and I noticed his nails were immaculate. “What’s the real story?”
I studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what game he was playing. But his expression was open, curious rather than suspicious. Maybe this was just how he was, direct and unfiltered.
“My family arranged the marriage,” I admitted. “To secure the ranch. It’s complicated.”
