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“My mom was the first wife.” I paused, not sure I wanted to go down this road. Fuck it. I knew a lot about her family from working for Wilson. It was only fair I shared, even if it made me itch like I would break out in hives. “My father is on wife number four now. She’s younger than me. He wasn’t a very hands-on parent. Growing up, I spent most of my time following the ranch managers and cowboys around. My father is a big picture kind of guy, not interested in the details. He’d come up with a scheme like…” I searched my mind for an example.
“Open a restaurant?”
I couldn’t tell if she pulled that suggestion out of thin air or if she already knew something about my family. If she’d guessed, it was an inspired choice.
“Sure, like a restaurant. He’d go gang busters for a few months doing everything: hiring the right people, creating the business plan, buying new equipment, and then he’d walk away. On to a new plan. Kind of how he handled his relationships with his wives too. My father was fantastic at picking the right people and good ideas. The businesses never failed, unlike his marriages. Even the bad schemes would make a little money or break evenuntil the next better idea replaced them. People said he had the Midas touch.”
“And were you involved with any of the businesses?” She listened with her whole body, leaning forward, hands in her lap, the orgasmic tacos forgotten. Her attention encouraged me to keep talking and say more than I would under normal circumstances.
“Nah, those businesses weren’t in my blood. Land, cattle, horses. That was my calling since I was too small to remember.”
“And your mom?”
“When she and my father split, Mom and my father’s ranch manager got together. Robert was one of the few times my father’s hiring decision came back to bite him in the ass. Robert and Mom married and moved to a big spread in Montana he managed. Now, they have their own place up there.”
“It looks beautiful up there—on TV. I binge-watched Yellowstone when Wilson bought this place.” She shrugged like hey it was research.
“It is, but damn cold.”
“You stayed here in Texas even with your mom up there?”
The conversation had become a mix between a first date Q&A and a therapy session. Time to sum up my weird childhood and move on. Plenty of kids had it way worse than I did.
“Unfortunately, the Texas courts thought I was better off with my father. He owned property, made more money, and helped the judge who made the custody decision get elected. So I lived most of the year in Texas. Summers in Montana. It’s the only place I’d even consider living besides Texas. But the cold, I just can’t. I’m a Texan to the bone.” I mock shivered, chattering my teeth and everything, to lighten the mood.
She laughed and I took a drink from my water bottle.
I didn’t mean my comment about never leaving Texas as a reminder to Rae that this was short-term. Had it sounded thatway to her? I didn’t know if reminding her was good or bad. It’s not like Napa Valley was known for its beef cattle operations. Or was I the one entertaining delusions of more?
I handed Rae another tortilla and motioned for her to take some pork.
The connection we’d forged between the sheets was the only reason I opened up about my family at all. I’m not a talker; the physical was how I forged a connection. And our chemistry was mind-blowing. No wonder I was… feeling things. And saying things. And second-guessing things.
I made a taco and shoved it in my mouth before I spewed any more word vomit about my childhood.
Lara would smack me upside the head for all this overthinking. It was just sex. I’m a fantasy, her real-life cowboy straight off the screen from Yellowstone down to my scuffed boots. This was fun, not serious.
Don’t screw it up, dumbass.
The clickety-clack of Major’s nails on the floor caught my attention. He and Georgie were inching closer to the table. A string of drool slipped from Major’s jowls. Georgie sat back on his haunches and pawed the air with both front feet. It was damn adorable.
“Degenerate beggars.” I pointed at our canine audience with my mostly eaten taco.
“They are cute.”
I asked her about Georgie and dog shows—a much safer topic than all the shit in my head. Rae, like any proud parent, told me all about the little guy’s many accomplishments. Besides dog show titles for conformation, he also had a canine good citizenship certificate and was a registered therapy dog.
The rest of the meal passed in easy conversation, Rae talking and me saying yes, ma’am where appropriate. We worked together to clean up the dishes and put away the leftovers.
Now it was time for my big seduction move.
“Can I interest you in dessert?” I opened the cabinet above the fridge and got down an unopened bag of Oreo cookies. The crinkle of the bag was pure childhood nostalgia.
“I see you keep the good stuff where I can’t reach.” She tipped her head back, stood on her tiptoes, and tried to reach the cabinet without success.
“Never know when the marauding leprechauns of the Hill Country might raid your kitchen.”
“If you have milk, I’m in.”
