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I don’t push because I don’t like talking about my dad, either. Which is why I tell her all the great things about ranch life, focusing on the hard work and pride in a job well done. I show her the goat herd and tell her how I raised them from newborn babies to adults that prance around mischievously, kicking me in the shin every chance they get. I explain raising calves and selling cattle every year so we can do it all again in a never-ending cycle. With close to fatherly pride, I tell her how Shayanne became an entrepreneur on her own terms, Brutal is becoming the almost-husband and father he was always meant to be, and Bobby is getting deeper into his music every day.
It’s only been a week’s worth of conversations, but I feel like I’m getting to know Erica a little more in those few minutes of conversations before we both crash, knowing we have early mornings ahead. Last night, the looming alarm hadn’t seemed to matter and we’d talked for almost two hours. And I’m feeling it today.
“She’s all right.” I answer Mark on delay because I’m glancing at my phone again, smiling at the picture Erica just sent. Black tires with white stripes along the side walls.
Me: Putting shoes on Sally?
Erica: Good memory. Wilson says hi.
Wilson did nothing of the sort.
Me: Tell him I said hello too.
I look up to find Mark looking at me, his face carefully blank. I don’t ask, don’t say a word, knowing if he has something to say, he will.
“I like her for you. She’s brash, keeps you on your toes. A bit wild, but smart too.” He nods, having said his piece.
I shake my head. “You met her for the grand total of like one hour, and it ain’t like that. We’re keeping it casual.”
He laughs, deeply and violently. A rarity from the stoic man, which is probably why it sounds like rusty metal in his chest. I swear to God, he even wipes his eyes, tears leaking out from laughing so hard. At me? At the idea of Erica and me being casual? Fuck if I know.
He sobers, and it’s like the laughter never happened. “You weren’t around back then, or well, not around like you are now . . . but James and Sophie? They were a summer fling.” He spits out ‘summer fling’ like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “They seem casual?”
He already knows the answer as well as I do.
“Me and Katelyn? Supposed to just be friends.” He actually does finger quotes with his thick, muddy hands. “Till she stomped out here in the middle of the night and forcibly yanked my head outta my ass for me.”
My brows jump together. “Katelyn?” She’s the sweetest woman I think I’ve ever met, literally nice as can be, with the patience of a saint. I try to picture her giving Mark what for and can’t even imagine it.
He snorts. “She’s tougher than she lets on.” His eyes go distant, and I know he’s thinking about his bride because he’s got that stupid-in-love look on his face. The look I never want to have.
“Yeah, well . . . Erica and I are on the same page. Casual only. She’s busy, I’m busy, and we ain’t got the time nor the inclination for anything serious.”
My phone dings in my hand. I’d like to say it’s a saved by the bell situation, but it feels more like it’s calling me out on my shit.
“Time’s a fickle bitch. Don’t let her fuck you over.” He narrows his eyes like he’s imparting great wisdom. “I ain’t never regretted a single moment I’ve spent with Katelyn. Hard to say I regret the part when I was fighting us because we got where we needed to be in the end, but I’m a greedy fucker and I’ll take every second I can get with her, so I wish I’d had a head-out-of-my-ass-ectomy a little sooner.”
Mark is not a share your feelings type. So he might as well have just opened his chest and fileted his heart to tell me how much his wife means to him, all the while implying that the woman I’ve spent one night with plus a week of texting looks like a pretty damn similar situation to him.
Fuck this. “Are we going to hold hands, sing Kumbaya, and talk about our periods, or work?”
These cows need to move over to the next fenced pasture, and we need to spread some hay and do a wellness check on as many as we can before the sun sets. James is riding fence on an ATV today, far on the back pasture where we’re eventually headed with the herd. It’s never-ending, it’s what I know, and it’s even what I love.
