“Wait, did you sayForbesMagazine?” I stammer, my heart rapidly firing in my chest.
“The one and only. Coleson Ranch even has a full spread. It’s incredible for marketing,” Nathaniel tells me, not at all aware that I’ve stopped breathing.
Coleson Ranch. Waterstone Texas. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.
“Who did you say this man is? The one who owns the ranch?”
“Only the most sought-after cowboy in all of Texas, princess,” Austin rambles, but I tune him out.
My focus is on Nathaniel and the words he mutters as if they mean nothing. A matter of zero importance to him.
But to me? They’re catastrophic.
“Stetson Cole. My best friend of nearly twenty years.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
stetson
“Coffee.”Clay hands me my white cup that’s damn near stood the test of time, and I send him a blank stare.
“It’s almost dinner.”
“And?” he deadpans. “When has that ever stopped you before? You’re better off attached to an IV drip at the rate you consume caffeine.”
He’s not wrong, although dramatic.
“Just give me the damn coffee,” I grunt, turning off the hose spigot and patting Nellie on the rear. She’s doing incredible. Baby was born a little later than expected but is doing well, clinging to her mama just like we hoped. Granger, Creek, and Tuna have been handling the pasture care for the past few months, making the transition perfect for the two cows.
I couldn’t be happier.
Clay hands me my bitter lifeline, and we sit in silence for what feels like hours while Nellie and her young calf, named Millie by my niece, drink from the trough before sauntering off toward their herd.
I wipe the sweat off my brow before placing it on myhip, the heat scorching more than usual for this time of year. I need to make sure my cows stay hydrated and fed to avoid malnourishment in these temperatures.
“What gives, Stetson?” Clay breaks the silence.
“What do you mean? Just getting things in order around here before everyone arrives tomorrow morning.” I sip my coffee, knowing he won’t buy my attempt at avoidance.
Clay may be a pest at times, but he knows me well.
He nods toward the two wooden bench swings I hung between oak trees by the barn, insisting we sit. He follows me over, turning toward me like I owe him an explanation.
“Ready to try that again?”
I exhale. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Clay. I’m fine. Just got work on my mind.”
“You’re not fine, Stetson. You’ve barely spoken to anyone in nearly a week. You almost made Tuna piss himself yesterday, all over the salt blocks being too small.”
“Cows need salt, Clay. This isn’t rocket science. I have expectations and take pride in my cows. I’m not sure what the problem is.”
He shakes his head. “The problem isn’t in what you freaked about. It’s you freaking that’s the issue. It’s not like you, man. And as your friend, I’m just concerned.”
Back to my point. I can’t hide anything from Clay. He knows when I’m off, and he knows when I’m golden.
Right now, I just want to hear from her. That’s it.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
