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Luckily, Fallon saves me from a future throttling by setting a massive cinnamon roll slathered in frosting in front of me. “Here you go,” she says drolly. “Your daily caloric intake in just one meal.”
Unfazed, I pull the plate toward me. “On that note, bottoms up.”
Fallon glances down at Charlie. “You go see Stede?”
Charlie nods. “Yeah. This morning. We got it figured out.”
“Good.”
Then Fallon’s gone without another word.
“She was at the bar last night,” I say, remembering she was banging on the jukebox and swearing like a sailor. “She looks sad,” I tell Charlie, twirling my mother’s bracelet around and around on my wrist.
“Yeah. Well ...” He spears a massive hand through his dark hair. “She’s got a lot on her plate. Like everyone.” When I’m silent, he exhales before continuing. “That’s Stede’s youngest daughter, Fallon. They own this place. She works here when she’s not on the rodeo circuit.”
I wrinkle my nose, putting the pieces together. The sadness in Fallon’s eyes. Their conversation. “Stede—the man you were visiting at the hospital?”
“That’s right. He sold me the ranch.” I note the fondness in Charlie’s voice. Even this tough cowboy has a sweet side.
“The ranch that’s in trouble?” I love this insight into Resurrection. Immediately, I want to make this town, this cowboy—these people—my friends. I want to fit in, even for a little bit.
“It’s a pain in my ass. Everything’s a pain in my ass right now, and I gotta figure out some solutions fucking fast.”
“I’m good at solutions. Sometimes people need help. Maybeyouneed help?”
His expression is reluctant, but there’s another part of him that looks like he wants to combust and spill everything. “Fine,” he says flatly. “We’re getting skewered on social media because of one goddamn video and our bookings are dropping fast. We got employees to pay and animals to take care of. It’s gonna be the death of me if we can’t do that.”
I flinch at the pain in his words. At the turmoil etched on his rugged face. Honor. Loyalty. They mean something to this man. I respect that. A hell of a lot.
Charlie shoves at the table. “I don’t even know why I’m telling all you this.” He leans forward and picks up my fork. “Eat,” he says, handing it to me.
But I ignore the massive cinnamon roll, turning his words around in my head, searching for solutions. If I have something that can help another person, then I want to help them.
“How do you advertise?”
“We don’t.”
“So, word of mouth?”
He looks down at his hands and makes a fist. “Over the years, yeah.”
“What do the comments on your Instagram say?” I press. When he’s silent, my jaw drops. “You don’t have social media?” I jab the fork at him. “That’s your first mistake. It’s not the end all be all, but I think it could help you, Charlie. A lot.”
“That’s what got us into this mess.” He rolls his eyes. “Your precious social media.”
I give him a stern look. “Look, I know social media makes you itch. You’re a cowboy. You like horses, not hashtags. I get it, but ...” A smile spreads slowly across my face. “It is mine.”
He frowns, regarding me with suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
“I could do it,” I pipe up. “I could launch your account.”
“Don’t need your pity,” he says, folding his arms across his broad chest, the corded muscle in his tan forearms tensing.
“Oh, I think you do.” I set my fork down, an eagerness unfurling inside of me. “But it’s not pity. I don’t want to wade through beer every night at Nowhere. I’d rather help you out. Please.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw.
“Think of it as a favor,” I say with a smile. “You saved me from a bar fight, I’ll save your ranch.”
