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“Alright Billy, time to fuck off.”
He looked at me like I was joking.
“Who are you, her bodyguard or something?”
“No, just her friend who's had enough of your bullshit,” I snapped, never taking my glare off him. I was his boss, I knew he wouldn’t start a pissing match here, but Monday would be a different story.
Eryn shot Billy a smile that any man with a brain would see contained pity, but Billy didn’t seem to get the memo.
“I’ll message you on Insta. Hit me up if you want me to show you around town.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond to him, just stepped in between them and took her hand to help her up. We walked a few feet away, heading toward the food table when she turned to face me.
“What was that about?”
I grumbled, “It's just . . . you shouldn't have to deal with that, Eryn. You're here to have a good time, not be harassed by assholes.”
“He wasn’t being an asshole. Just a little long-winded.”
“Oh, trust me, that guy’s an asshole alright.”
I looked over at her and caught her trying not to smile.
“Well, thank you. I’m actually really hungry.” She laughed.
It wasn’t until we reached the food that I realized her hand was still in mine.
* * *
The sizzle of the grill and the raucous laughter from the yard had died down with the sun, I watched Mason bustling around, bringing people drinks or napkins with one hand while balancing his daughter, Abigail, on his hip with the other. She was chattering away, her tiny hands animated as she told him about the ladybug she'd found by the fence.
“Careful now, Abby,” Mason said, his voice laced with the warmth only a father's could hold. “Don't go naming them bugs, or you'll want to keep 'em all.”
Abigail giggled, a sound as clear as the creek that cut through our land. “But Daddy, this one's special. It's for good luck!”
It was plain as day that Mason was wrapped around her little finger, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The man had weathered storms to give that girl a life as steady as the ancient oaks that lined our property. His gray eyes, usually so serious when dealing with ranch matters, softened whenever they met her bright, expectant gaze.
“Special, huh?” Mason ruffled her hair affectionately. “Alright then, we'll set up a little home for it later.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” He kissed her forehead, and she squealed with delight, squirming in his arms.
I couldn't help but smirk at the sight. For a man who managed a ranch with an iron fist, Mason sure melted into a puddle when it came to Abigail.
“Uncle Gray!” Abigail wriggled down from her father's embrace and ran toward me, her enthusiasm enough to knock me back if I wasn't bracing for impact. Her small arms encircled my waist in a fierce hug.
“Hey there, champ,” I greeted, ruffling her hair as Mason had done. “You keeping your old man in line?”
“Always, Uncle Gray!”
I heard you were doin’ summer camp this year.”
“Uh huh,” she nodded, suddenly very serious. “I do soccer and art class and I even learn about nature.”
“Whoa, that’s some pretty cool stuff. You think you still have time to come ridin’ at the ranch too?”
She screamed and jumped up and down. “Yes! Please can I soon?”
