Page 56 of Live, Ranch, Love

As I reach to grab Wyatt’s bowl, I brush my fingers along his neck, making his breath hitch. I just want him to know I’m here. I’m in his corner, even if it doesn’t feel like anyone else is.

Because that’s what he’s done for me.

Acting like I’m not two seconds away from arguing with Wyatt’s dad who I’ve only just met, I smile and take Malia’s bowl too. “I think you heard me just fine.”

“Rory.” Beau’s voice deepens with warning, and he settles back in his seat, almost pretending like everything is perfectly swell. “I understand you might disagree, but I don’t appreciate being told how to speak to my children.”

“Well.” I grab Beau’s bowl, pushing out the politest smile possible, as if I’m not about to unleash the fury inside of me. “I’m afraid I’m going to, because it pisses me off that you don’t see how bloody special your son is. He’s probably the most hard-working man I’ve ever met—I threw this idea of a retreat at him, and he just took it by the horns and brought my dream to life without even a complaint. He works his ass off here, and he gives all the reward away so that the rest of you stay happy. So that his siblings don’t have to deal with the same soul-crushing words you throw at him.”

Beau’s face is as red as a hot poker, his hands scrunched into fists on the table. He goes to open his mouth, but I hold a finger up as I drop the stack on the counter, because I am not finished.

“And have you ever stopped to think that maybe he chose to work as a rancher because it made him happy? I mean, isn’t that every parent’s dream, that their child is happy? Would you really rather he hated his life, barely living because he’s drowning in paperwork and meetings, just because it sounds better when you tell your friends?”

Beau’s jaw is taught, eyes raging and enlarged.

I turn to Wyatt, locking onto his eyes, which are currently molten black. They may be fierce, but they anchor me back in the moment. Back to him. His brows drop, but he doesn’t look away.

“Because I sure as hell would rather watch him feel as free and happy as he does when he’s riding around this ranch, knowing that his mind is full of nothing but joy.”

The corners of his mouth lift faintly.

“Now, can I get anyone another drink?” I place my hands on my hips, finally taking in a breath to steady my rattling heart.

“Some fresh air will do,” Beau grunts.

I point to the door that leads outside and he abruptly stands, glancing at each person around the table, before heading out.

twenty-three

Wyatt

Hunter will be gutted that he missed tonight. Never in my life have I ever seen anyone stand up to my dad like Aurora just did. Especially not for me. In fact, I can’t remember the last time anyone ever really stood up for me. Ever fought for me…

Leaving the women inside, who have managed to fall back into pleasant conversation once we all helped clear up, I head out to the back deck. My dad leans against the fence, just staring out at the glorious sunset, the sky set ablaze. He briefly checks over his shoulder when I shut the door quietly behind me. The corners of his mouth twitch, not even managing a smile.

When I join him against the fence, he lets out a long, hard sigh. One that sounds years in the making. “Are you really happy here?”

“More than you’ll probably ever understand.”

“Probably,” he snorts, then rubs a hand over his moustache.

We rest there in silence for God knows how long. My dad’s never been much of a talker, which is likely where I get my own disdain for unnecessary social interaction.

He probably didn’t deserve quite so much of a public berating from Aurora because I know he does care about me—it’s evident in the way he clearly wants the best for me and has strived to give me as many opportunities as possible to achieve that. But I don’t think he’s ever taken the time to understand me. To realise that we value different things in life. Possibly because he spent so much time working to be able to give me what he thought I wanted.

And I just silently accepted, nodding along because I wanted to make my parents proud. Still, there’s only so much pretending to be someone you’re not that you can do before it wears you down to the bone.

Dad’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence, slightly strained. “I do care more about you being happy than how fancy your job sounds. You understand that, right?”

“I do now that you’ve told me.”

“Well, then I’m sorry that I haven’t told you that before.” Dad flashes me a smile—a quick press of his lips. He begins to lift his hand, hesitates, then finally lands it on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. It’s not much, but it’s a lot from him. “All your mom and I want is for you to be happy. I guess we just didn’t expect this to be what did that.”

I let his hand stay there, secretly relishing in the gesture. “It was enough for Pops, why can’t it be for me?”

Dad chuckles, closing his eyes for a long moment as he pulls his hand back. Probably thinking about his own father. I wonder if my grandfather ever gave my dad a hard time for ending up doing the same thing as him too. “I guess it was. I think he would’ve been even happier working with a firecracker like that, though.”

He gestures behind us, and I glance back, catching a glimpse of Aurora in a fit of giggles with Cherry on one of the couches through the window, Mom laughing beside them. God, she looks like she’s been a part of the family for years.

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