This bitch. She reminds me of Meredith from The Parent Trap.
“Who really knows?” I attempt a chuckle before taking a sip. “Might decide to overstay my welcome. Although, not sure anyone around here would mind. I’ve never felt more at home.”
How did that dig feel,Jules?
“Sure,” she whispers, eyes now fixed on the floor. “I know the feeling.”
“Right. See you around,” I mumble, anxious to get away.
I slip past her carefully, en route to the front porch, when she replies, “You will. I’m not going anywhere.”Something about her comment makes me uneasy, but I ignore it. I need to keep my thoughts on my purpose. The reason I’m here to begin with. I let the door shut behind me and finally release the breath that’s been sitting in my chest since she interrupted my peaceful morning.
The wraparound porch I’m transported to is oddly inviting for being attached to the home of a single bachelor. Swings and rocking chairs litter the meticulously built deck, overstuffed pillows adding an additional layer of comfort. There’s no color, but I’m not sure it needs it. Everything about Stetson’s home is cozy and quaint.
That’s the one thing about Miami I wish we had—quiet.
The city is on the go twenty-four-seven, making the ability to find even the smallest amount of stillness a difficult feat. I love it, but being out here reminds me how much I lack privacy.
Finding the nearest brown wicker swing, I spot the same pup who approached me when I arrived, lounging across it with a pillow tucked under its head. “Hi, little—I do my due diligence and check for gender—guy. You sure look cozy.” His head pops up as I sit beside him, naturally reaching to rub his belly. “Snug as a bug in a rug, huh?”
He wags his tail in a bit of a scurry, panting in excitement, the more I pet him. Yet he’s too comfortable to move, making room for me to crowd his space. I toss a throw blanket over my legs, the morning air feeling a bit cool, and cover the dog’s bottom half as well, blissfully enjoying the view of the ranch. It’s massive in size, and I’m convinced I have yet to see half of it. The drive to the main house alone was nearly two miles down a graveled pathway, acres upon acres of land surrounding both sides. To my right is the outdoor space we gathered in last night, nestled between an entrance to the main house and whatlooks to be the guest barn, where other family members and friends are staying.
According to Abigail and Kyle, Stetson completely transformed the unit into a mini apartment building. Five individual suites inside, perfect for numerous visitors.
I secretly love how handy he is. It’s ungodly attractive when a man can build things with his bare hands. Who am I kidding? It’s hot as fuck and makes me appreciate his hard work even more, seeing it all for myself.
To the side of the barn is what looks like an outdoor shed. The garage door to it is open, revealing a wall lined with hundreds of tools and power equipment. I spot a tractor beside it, and if I had to guess, even more farming machinery is close by.
To my left is a massive wooden playground, a fire pit, and a commercial-sized stable with “CR” made of wrought iron at the center. I recognize the same design from the iron gates entering the property.
Coleson Ranch.
A part of me wants to explore the stables, in search of horses to pet and love on. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had an obsession with horses. I remember begging my mom to buy me one and couldn’t understand why she would laugh and dismiss my request.
Beyond the stable is what appears to be miles and miles of cattle farms. Cattle galore graze the fields, looking so enchanting. It’s beautiful out here. Maintained and manicured to perfection, much like I’ve gathered Stetson to be.
He’s a perfectionist and overly persistent. Everything makes sense.
“That’s my cup. And my pup.”
A hoarse voice startles me, and I lift my head to meet Stetson’s weighted glare. It’s unusual to experience this sideof him. The side that makes me feel like an unwanted visitor, rather than someone he searches out.
“And for right now, it’s mine. Both of them.” I smile softly, internally telling myself he’s just hurt. And goddamn it, it’s just a cup.
“But they’re mine.” He steps closer to me, and I watch him closely, although scolding me over a cup and apparently his cute pup, he’s sleepy with the slightest amount of bedhead. Indentations line one side of his face from the pillow, reminding me of our time in Chicago and that he’s a perpetual side sleeper. But the thing I’m physically unable to look away from is his chest. Age has nothing on Stetson Cole. His deep tan skin is covered in chest hair with an eight-pack of deliciously carved abs staring at me front and center. They lead to the sexiest ‘V’ cut—the same one you see often on men in magazines.
But somehow, Stetson makes it look even hotter.
He takes pride in himself, and it shows.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got about fifty others in there then,” I retort, pointing toward the kitchen inside. “As for the dog, I can’t help it if he loves me.”
Stetson perches himself against the white side paneling of the porch, putting him less than a foot away. “Mustard. Come here,” he points to his feet, butMustardignores him.
He can be angry at me all he wants, but his dog thinks I’m pretty fucking spectacular. I’m a firm believer that dogs know the hearts of people. Sooner or later, Stetson will see that, too.
“Seriously? After all the shit I do for you,” he implores, shaking his head at the rejection of Mustard’s betrayal. He must not be too concerned because he wastes no time steering his annoyance back on me. “I want that one.” He points to the coffee cup currently steaming around my lips. “It’s the only one I use. It’s mine.”
“Are we seriously arguing over a coffee cup right now?” It’s too early for this. It’s one thing to be mad at me for ignoring his calls and texts or for stealing the attention of his dog, but another thing entirely to be bitter over a goddamn cup. If he seriously wants to fight, give me an hour for the caffeine to hit, and I’ll be ready to come back swinging.
