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“So sorry about that, it was my parents,” I place my bag back by my feet and pick up my knife and fork.
“Are you close to your parents?” he asks and it sounds as if he is genuinely concerned. The issue is, he probably is. I’m the one on a fake date. Not him.
“Very, how about you?” I scoop up a forkful of mash and hover it over my plate as I wait for him to answer.
“My mom, yes, but not my dad. He passed a while back and I don’t remember much of that time to be honest, I blurred a lot of it out.”
And I feel my heart bottom out.
“I am so sorry,” I say a little quieter, my eyes soft as I watch him with intent.
“It’s okay, don’t be sorry.”
I nod, pushing the tip of the fork past my lips and chewing for a moment.
“I heard about one of the locals passing away on one of the neighboring ranches,” I try going straight in for the kill. “Did you know him?”
“Tom Ranking? Yeah. I know he put his ranch up for sale when he got wind of what we were up to. Seems a lot of the older folk are getting ready to up and leave.” His brows raise.
“Why would they do that? Ranching is their life, surely.”
“It was, but when someone comes in with an offer they can’t refuse well…”
“Well?” his answer piques my interest.
“They sell their land to the big suits and this becomes a hot spot, it’s so beautiful here and not many people know about it, but once the ranches sell and the land is at their disposal well… they will make it even better than it is now. Ranching is a dying trade, why do we need ranchers and farmers when we can just go to local supermarkets and get our meat for half the price?” he laughs a little louder now. “Plus, there is so much more to these ranches, much more than livestock etcetera,” and I sit dumbfounded at the sheer idiocy that has just fallen from his mouth.
“Oh yeah, I completely get it,” I nod a little too enthusiastically. I roll my lips, rage bubbling deep inside of me. “What about the trade of world class horses? The wool to the local clothing shops for example? Aside from the meat, there is a lot more that these ranchers do. You know the circle of life and all that? Well the ranchers have the same morals. Live by the ranch, die by the ranch. This is their lives, their heritage… and you think they’re just going to roll over and sell it?”
I am mad at myself for getting myself riled up this easy, but I can’t stand the stupidity that comes with certain people.
He says nothing. Just sits with one elbow on the table, his index finger pushed to his lips and a knowing smirk on his face.
“Seems little miss out-of-towner knows a little more than she let on, hm?”
“I’ve done some research. My work is about ranching and livestock,” I swallow and suddenly I have lost my appetite.
“Sounds interesting,” he places his fork down on his plate then wipes his lips with his napkin.
“It really is,” I nod, mirroring him and placing my own knife and fork down.
Silence echoes around us and the tension slowly begins to build.
“Will you excuse me for just a moment, I need the restroom,” my tone is soft as I collect my clutch from by my feet and push my chair out, walking across the cosy restaurant to the restroom and only when I am in there and alone, I let out a heavy sigh.
Shit.
Pressing my back to the restroom door, I inhale heavily. I was a fool to agree to this.
I pull my phone out and hover my thumb over Riggs’ number, but just as I am about to press the button someone pushes against the door and knocks me forward.
“Hey!” I call out but my eyes widen when I see Riggs standing in front of me.
“Hey,” he rasps, his large hand pushing through his curls.
“You’re gonna blow my cover.”
“Wank Stain didn’t even see me. Too busy on his phone, probably looking at pictures of peoples toes.”
