Page 37 of Hollis

The rest of the day drags on, feeling never-ending, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about what Finn suggested. An absurd suggestion at that. Just because I enjoyed hooking up with Ford—and want to do it again even though I shouldn’t—doesn’t mean I havefeelingsfor the guy. Yeah, I enjoy being around him, I like getting to know him, and so what if my heart races any time I think about him now? That doesn’t mean shit.

Once we finish everything we needed to get done, we head back to the barn and put everything away before Finn, August, and I walk over to my dad’s house. We’re having dinner there tonight, and I can’t wait. My lip curls into a grin when I spot Ford’s truck parked out front. My father must’ve invited him. Ash’s beater of a car is here too, meaning we’re the last to arrive, which isn’t surprising. That’s the life of a cattle rancher, though. Known it and lived it my whole life, don’t know any other way. Sunup to sundown is the norm this time of year. Late fall and winter things will slow down a bit, but in the spring and summer, our days are long and taxing.

We could benefit from hiring a couple more ranch hands to help out around here, but convincing Mr. Cheapskate—also known as my father—to do that is damn near impossible. This ranch has been in our family for nearly seventy years, and for as long as I can remember, my dad’s always been weird aboutbringing on non-family employees. He had to when Finn and I were kids after my grandpa passed, but I distinctly remember him bitching about it any chance he could. But sometimes it’s necessary, like now, as we ride into busy season, especially since my dad had to take a step back from a lot of the day-to-day work when he was diagnosed with osteoarthritis at the end of last year.

Stepping into the house, the air conditioning sends a chill down my spine as I kick off my boots and hang my hat while my brother and cousin do the same. My stomach grumbles as the savory aroma from the brisket my dad smoked fills my nostrils.

“Fuck, I’m starvin’,” I mutter, turning my gaze toward August. “Is Tripp comin’?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, he’s got a shift. I’ll bring him home a plate.”

I can hear my nephew giggling from deeper in the house, and it brings a smile to my face instantly. That kid has the most infectious laugh I’ve ever heard, and it’s impossible not to be in a good mood around him. The three of us stroll down the hallway toward the kitchen, the chatter and laughter getting louder the closer we get. Music also plays softly, the quiet beat reaching my ears as we round the corner.

With the ‘Flipping Awesome Grandpa’apron Tucker got him for Christmas tied around his waist, my dad is the first one to come into view. Resting his hip against the counter next to the stove, with a beer in hand and a grin splitting his face, he watches Ash and Tucker dance around the kitchen to some old George Strait while Ash serenades the giggly, squinty-eyed five-year-old in his arms. Bubba, their rambunctious puppy, trots around them, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, like he, too, is dancing.

I turn my head, glancing at Finn, a smile spreading on my face as I watch my brother watch them. The love and adoration are plain to see, and it warms my chest. Finn’s been doing this dad thing on his own ever since Tucker’s mom skipped town when he was a baby. It’s been a special thing to witness Ash weave his way into their lives. Seemingly effortlessly too. First, as Tucker’smanny—Finn hates that term, but I think it’s great—to now, barely a year later, the three of them—four, if you count Bubba—are afamily. I’ve never seen my brother as happy or unabashedly in love as he is with Ash, and nobody deserves it more than him. The way he’s standing with his shoulder pressed against the door frame and hearts in his eyes almost makes me want to find my happy too.

Almost.

Looking away from my brother, my gaze lands on the smoking hot piece of man meat across from me. Like my dad, Ford has his hip rested on the counter beside the sink, and he’s watching the two of them with amusement in his eyes. Turning his head, he meets my gaze, and I flash him my signature flirty smirk. Clenching his jaw, Ford doesn’t return the smile as he looks away just as quickly. I greedily drag my gaze down the front of him, damn near drooling at how sexy he is. He’s dressed comfortably in a black V-neck t-shirt, jeans that hug his thighs beautifully, and a pair of black cowboy boots tucked under the denim.

“Daddy!” Tucker squeals, a huge smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye when he spots Finn. Ash sets him down, and he runs over, wrapping his arms around his neck in a tight hug when Finn picks him up.

“Hey, bug, how was your day?”

Tucker spouts off something, but I miss it entirely when an elderly man I’ve never met before strolls into the kitchen.

“Nice painting you got above the fireplace,” the man mutters to my father.

Finn, August, and I share a look; they’re clearly as confused as I am.

“Oh, thanks,” my dad grunts. “My ex-wife painted that years ago.”

The painting in question is based on a picture my mom took of my brother and me surrounded by the first herd of calves my father had after taking over the ranch when we were little. My mother only paints for fun, but she’s incredibly talented, and that one is my favorite. It looks identical to the photograph.

Walking over to the older gentleman now standing beside Ford, I offer him my hand. “Howdy, sir, I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet yet. I’m Hollis.” Tipping my head toward my dad, I add, “Gentry’s favorite son.”

Finn scoffs behind me, making me chuckle.

The man shakes my hand. “Larry,” he offers. “Nice to meet you, son.”

My gaze flits over to Ford, who’s surprisingly already watching me as Finn and August step up beside me and introduce themselves too. “This your dad, Cap?” I ask, arching a brow. Given everything Ford’s told me about his dad, I doubt he’d invite him over, but you never know.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Not his father, son,” Larry grunts. “He’s just forcin’ his friendship on me because he feels sorry for my old ass.”

“Is that right?” I huff a small chuckle, shifting my attention back to Ford. The way his smoky gray gaze holds mine sends a rush of heat through my veins. “That’s awfully kind of you, Captain Wesley.”

Ford’s jaw pops as he purses his lips, completely unamusedwith me. Although, after this weekend, I’m willing to bet he’s the furthest thing from unamused, and he probably hates that. He drags his gaze from me to my dad. “Anythin’ I can help with?”

Shaking his head, he says, “I’m just waitin’ on the bread to finish, then we’ll eat. Y’all can get yourselves somethin’ to drink and find a seat at the table.”

After I grab a beer from the fridge, I crack it open and take a long pull before strolling into the dining room. My plan is to steal a spot right next to Ford to mess with him, but by the time I make it in there, he’s sitting with Larry on one side of him and August on the other, so I take the next best spot… Directly across from him. My cousin breathes out a chuckle and shakes his head, while Ford glowers at me, but says nothing.

It’s not long before we dish up, and once we start eating, I glance to Ford’s left and say, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before, Larry. Are you new here?”

Underneath the table, my foot rubs against Ford’s, and I relish the way his nostrils flare on a harsh exhale and he clenches his jaw, but hedoesn’tmove his foot.

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