Leaving her to it, I retreat with a newfound mission in mind. “See you at dinner, Cove.”
“Nice of youto finally join me. It’s not like it’s my fucking birthday or anything.”
“I had business to attend to. And it’s not your birthday yet.”
I examine Nate, unable to control my laughter. “There’s always business to attend to,” I mock him. “You know, I could lend you a pair of jeans if you’d like. Spare some of my hard-earned millions in your honor,” I tease.
Nate cuts me an annoyed look. “I own jeans, Stetson. And more money than even you would know what to do with, so let’s not compare. But thank you for your kind generosity.”
Formal fucker.
Luckily, I know this is just how he is. Stiff and irritatingly educated. Gives me a good laugh from time to time, although he’s a bit moresnippythan I recall. “Whatever you say, my friend. Make yourself useful and come help.” I toss him a pair of work gloves and nod to the bag of soil beside him.
“You want me to lay soil?”
“What does it look like? I want you to helpmelay soil. You never come around anymore, so consider this you putting your time in and making up for all my phone calls you’ve sent to voicemail. You work too much. To make up for it, you get to work for me.”
“No wonder you’re labeled the recluse bachelor.” I cut him a stern look, hating where he’s headed. “Yeah, I saw the fucking article,” Nate says proudly. He shakes his head but doesn’t hassle me further, loading the soil bag onto his shoulder, in a motherfucking suit.
Between Clay and him, I’ve seen more than enough suits on my ranch for a lifetime.
“So, it looks like Abigail has everything planned out for you this week.”
“That’s an understatement,” I huff, leading us toward the overgrown garden behind the stables. I call it a garden, but it’s actually a field of wildflowers. They’re the one thing on the ranch I've neglected, and as of late, I have a sudden urge to bring them back to life. I spent the entirety of Monday pulling all the overgrown weeds and prepping the dirt to lay fresh soil in hopes of healthy growth. There was a time when this field was bright and in full bloom with color.
I plan to restore that.
“The barn looks like a royal ball.”
I shake my head, knowing he’s being modest. “I don’t ask questions. You know how Abbi is. I just let her do what she wants and say thank you. It’s never steered me wrong before.”
“Probably for the best. Remember that time she had my car repainted without telling me?” Nate asks, sparking a fond memory. “The owner of the shop called me to come pick it up, and I was so confused. Never even dropped it off. But Abigail did.”
I grab two shovels from the side shed and hand one over. “Not sure I could forget. I’ve never seen you so angry.”
“My beamer was fucking turquoise! It was one of the first cars I bought for myself in cash.”
I chuckle. “Leave it to Abbi to swap the color codes by one digit. Surprised you kept it like that. Drove it for years, if I remember right.”
“Yeah…couldn’t get myself to trade it,” he drawls out, staring into the distance with reflection. “She meant well. That counts for something.”
I’ll never understand why Nate doesn’t let people see this side of him. He’s an asshole, and he knows it. But Iknow deep down, he’s a decent guy. He’s just got a rough way of showing it.
“Can I ask you something, man? I’m really trying to figure it out, but none of it makes sense.” He lifts his chin, taking in my every word. He knew this was coming. He had to.
I take his lack of response as a yes and decide to continue. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nate’s face falls, but a grimace accompanies it. “I didn't know how to, and to be honest, not sure I wanted to. It was a mistake.”
If this were any other person, I’d immediately get defensive over him calling Cove a mistake, but this is Nate, so I expect a rational explanation. Although it still won’t justify it. “That’s not enough of a reason.”
He exhales. “What do you want me to say? I was young, Stetson. We were kids and had other things going for us. It’s all more complicated than it seems.”
“That doesn’t explain anything regarding your daughter. Especially when you have another one who you’d never once call a mistake,” I remind him.
“Emma is different. I chose her. This life.” He shakes his head gravely. “Cove and I have never had a relationship up until recently.”
Something isn’t adding up. How could he be okay with not having a relationship with his thirty-year-old daughter for so long? Enough that he not only doesn’t see her, but has never once mentioned her.
