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“After yesterday? Nothing. Recover.” I sat at his kitchen table wearing the oldest, softest flannel shirt I’d ever touched, sipping my second cup of coffee. The shirt had been hanging in the back of Atley’s closet, and wearing it was like being wrapped in a cloud that smelled like him. I might never give it back.
“You had your time. I left so you could sleep in.”
His chipper smile was a tad annoying.
“I don’t want to put on pants today.” A woman needed goals.
“I’ve been up to the barn. Fed the horses. Helped Leroy get a new round bale in the hay feeder for the cattle in the small pasture and answered like fifteen emails.”
“Overachiever.”
“Get dressed.” He passed me a piece of peanut butter toast with sliced banana on it. “We’re going to look at Coyote Ridge.”
That was one of the few things I’d leave the house for.
Twenty minutes later, after one swat to my naked ass when I pouted about him ruining my plan to do nothing, we were in his truck driving to the opposite side of Elmer. And yes, I was wearing pants.
Coyote Ridge had a fancy entry gate with a low stacked stone wall and a whimsical metal sculpture of a coyote howling at the moon. It was chic and homey, obviously created with attracting tourists in mind.
Atley parked his truck in a large parking area next to a sleek European sedan.
I reached for the door handle and stopped. Seeing Jude Morgan get out of the car in a suit and tie brought reality crashing home. We were house shopping together. When and how had things escalated to this point? A week ago, we’d been avoiding each other.
“What am I doing here?”
“You inspired this. There are things I want to change… because you showed me it was possible.”
“Me?” Oh shit! I couldn’t let him do that. Buying a place like this would mean a huge loan, debts, and stress. He had a great life at Blue Star. My brother had been right; I was going to mess everything up for Wilson and Atley.
“The first day you got here, you said you’d been living a half-life. Over this summer, I realized you weren’t the only one. You took control and changed your life. Watching you was impressive and inspirational.”
“I don’t know about that.” I chewed my bottom lip, considering if I could say something that would put everything back the way it was, but I didn’t want that for either of us.
“I do. And it is.”
I looked across the parking lot at the beautiful glass and steel tasting room building perched on the hillside. It had more windows than walls and overlooked an impressively large vineyard. The spectacular setting and modern architecture screamed expensive.
A question that would have earned me a disapproving stare from my Midwest-values-loving mother popped out. “How can you afford this?”
As soon as I’d asked, I wished I could call back my words. A sick feeling churned in my stomach. We’d never talked about money. And there was no reason to start now.
Rather than get angry or defensive, as many men did when the topic of money arose, Atley chuckled. His unexpected response eased the knot in my gut a little, and I waited for him to explain.
“You read the article about my father. As part of my parents’ divorce settlement, he created a trust fund for me as a kid. I’ve never spent a dime except on my education and helping my mom and Robert get their start in Montana. There was a significant amount in there initially, and after thirty years of investing… I’m not your brother, but I’m better off than most.”
Like that answered even half my questions. He pecked my cheek and got out of the truck, putting on his hat.
Atley Rivers: a cowboy with a trust fund. Who would have guessed?
I had a nest egg I’d been growing over the years, and I could imagine how much bigger it would be if the money had been in there for three decades. Atley was a good businessman; he’d never do something stupid to impress anyone, even me. He knew what he was getting into—more than my brother hadwhen he bought Blue Star, and I’d never worried about Wilson’s choice.
The horrible nauseous feeling receded, replaced by a glimmer of something that had to be pride. I’d inspired him to change his life. Our relationship had been good for us both. Challenging and supporting. Mutual benefits bigger than orgasms. We were better, happier people.
He opened my door and offered his hand as I slid out of the truck. “I’m just going to follow along and let you and Jude do your thing.”
He tangled our fingers together without saying a word and led me to where Jude waited.
“Morning.” Jude looked meaningfully at our clasped hands and raised an eyebrow. “Good to see something, or someone, has finally motivated this dumbass to do something for himself. Let’s go ranch shopping, shall we?”
