I’m too old to waste time now. Too old to spend my days anticipating the woman of my dreams coming to me. But what if she’s already here? Maybe Cove is that person? The woman who attended my jet by accident, and wound up being the thing I’ve patiently waited for.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but a man can dream.
However, there’s one thing holding me back. Thedoubt that likes to rear its ugly head in my mind, reminding me that everything I’ve worked hard for may never be enough for someone.
Ranching isn’t easy. It’s not fancy cars, city skylines, and high society dinners. It’s waking up before the sun rises to care for the cows, horses, and pigs. It’s laboring in the outdoors through the thick of summer because a healthy herd doesn’t maintain itself. It’s constant upkeep to ensure operations run smoothly. And that’s just the hands-on side of things.
There are no days off for a cowboy. And unfortunately, this isn’t a life I can just leave behind. Not one I care to.
Nothing sounds more fulfilling than a simple life. In a way, I’ve been living it. Just on my own. Slow mornings before the sun rises with my forever girl. Sipping coffee on the front porch swing, sharing the highs and lows of our day. A pipe dream I’d given up on finding until Cove.
She gives me hope that maybe there is someone in this world for me. Even if it’s not her.
Seeing as how I came here entirely on my own without the slightest of clues when Cove’s flight arrives, I shuffle through my bag in search of a notebook. I know I have one in here somewhere. Coming up empty-handed, the only thing I manage to find is a random worn notebook, and the blue sparkle pen with a gummy bear at the top that Stella gave me as a Christmas gift one year.
I never leave town without it.
I place them both in my back pocket, grab my phone and wallet, then head to the lounge area. The Beverly is definitely a hotel of a higher caliber, with glass and silver accents covering every surface. There’s even glass on the fucking ceiling.
I shake my head, settling on a black leather couch near the front entrance. I don’t fit in here. I never have. Iwonder what my father would say if he were alive—watching me chase a woman I hardly know across the country.
My nerves get the best of me, and I decide to order a drink at the bar, sipping my whiskey with a million thoughts racing through my head.
Although I feel a bit of doubt, there’s a thrill that comes with doing something out of the ordinary for once. I know deep down there’s a high chance that whatever this is between Cove and me could end. It’s possibly only a physical connection we share and nothing more. But I’m willing to see it through.
I remember being a kid and watching the way my pops loved my mom. He was never one for grand gestures and often failed with his words. But he adored her, and it showed in every aspect of their marriage. Something as simple as setting out her vitamins for her in the mornings so she wouldn’t forget. Or carving their names into the wooden panels of the family barn. I still have no idea why and what that gesture meant to them, but even now, in their death, it’s a special moment they get to keep just with each other.
Remembering the way Cove’s eyes lit up when I handed her the wildflower bouquet that night at her penthouse, I pull out my notebook paper and sparkle pen, hoping to do something to show her a more vulnerable side of myself.
I’ve always found it easier to voice how I feel by writing it down.
I used to journal all the time when I was younger, somehow letting the busyness of work put that on pause. I’ve never been great at having a work/life balance. This is my way of letting Cove know I’m nothing like the richfucks she serves overpriced scotch to in the air. There’s a sweet and softer side of me I’m itching to show her.
I just hope she gives me the chance to do it.
I’m not sure when I’ll give it to her. She could think it’s stupid and not give a shit about my family or this ridiculous way of communicating, but I’m hopeful she won’t. I know if I want to have a fair shot with Cove, I need to be able to share how I feel.
I’ve struggled with that my entire life. Keeping things bottled up inside because it’s easier to deal with it myself than to burden everyone else. It’s understandable to suspect that trauma would cause that kind of reservation, but no. My family has always been an open book. Abigail is chatty fucking Kathy.
But when my pops died, I took over his Ranch and namesake. Hustling hard and laboring tooth and nail for success is what Coleson Ranch was known for. I’ve accomplished that. I know I have. But now, I’m almost fifty, with nothing but an impressive ranch and no one to share it with.
I need to challenge myself. Stretch myself to the point of being uncomfortable in my own skin. This is me doing just that.
“Hey, Stet.”That’s the voice I’ve been missing.
I know when I look to my right, I’ll be met with cognac eyes of torture. Torture for me and my dignity as I melt in the palm of Cove’s beautiful hand.
And there she is. Familiar designer bag hanging from her fingertips, uniform ironed to perfection even after a long flight, and molten orbs dialed in on me and only me.
Fuck, she’s pretty.
“Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?” I mumble from across the room, not a single chance at hiding my cheesy grin.
Cove shakes her head and smiles. “Get over here and hug me, you big weirdo.” That’s all it takes before I’m on my feet, pulling her into my arms like it’s been ages.
It really has been.
Her bag drops the moment our bodies touch, and I feel the tension in her composure vanish. “What can I do?” I whisper against the softness of her hair, greedily allowing her warm marshmallow scent to consume me. I’ve only ever seen Cove strong and reserved, but today, a wall is down, and I’m appreciative of it.
