Page 19 of Duke
I turn my head, and my stomach takes a tumble when I lock eyes with Duke. He was looking at me.
Islooking at me. He put the knife down, but he’s still holding the onion. Am I the one who keeps looking for him? Or is he the one always staring at me?
I look away and head for the island. No one sits down, of course, opting instead to help Patsy finish preparing lunch. Duke chops his onion. Mollie and Cash slather the burgers with healthy spoonfuls of pimento cheese. Sawyer and I arrange a platter of burger toppings: crisp leaves of iceberg lettuce, slices of juicy heirloom tomatoes, pickles, bacon, hot pepper jam.
Turns out food prep is fun when you’re doing it with a bunch of cowboys. The camaraderie, the sense of community, of being in this together—it’s special, and it makes me long to experience it more often.
Duke sidles up beside me to dump a handful of sliced red onion onto the platter. I smile when I see his watery eyes.
“In our feelings this morning?” I ask.
Patsy serves breakfast at four thirty a.m., which means lunch is on the early side too. We’re usually seated at the table by eleven, if not earlier.
“Sorry.” He dabs his eye with the back of his wrist. “Food this good just gets me emotional, ya know?”
“No need to apologize. If there’s any food that would make me shed a tear, it’s Patsy’s.”
Patsy grins as she sets a sheet pan of burger buns, warmed on the griddle, beside the toppings. “Y’all sure do know how to make a gal feel special. Now eat! Duke, I made enough so that everyone gets two burgers. Don’t take a third unless everyone’s done, you hear?”
I stare at him. “You can eat three burgers? Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Snapping his fingers, he grins. “I meant what I said—you can’t work when you’re hungry. And cowboying is hungry work. Come to think of it, I’m hungry most of the time.”
When I watch him take off his hat before sitting down, his bicep bulging against his shirt as he reaches up to run his fingers through his thick, slightly matted hair, I have a deep,deepunderstanding of that hunger.
Everyone eats. The flow of conversation is steady, sometimes raucous. Ella begs for the biggest slice of pie, but Patsy gives it to me instead.
“For our honored guest,” she says with a wink. “It’s always nice having you back, Wheeler.”
“It’s always nice to be back,” I say, chest squeezing.
I mean that. It’s like they actually enjoy having me around.
Like they enjoy my company.
This is how family is supposed to feel.With my own family—my life—melting down around me, I’d forgotten that fact.
Mollie’s phone beeps, making her look up. Immediately, her eyes go wide.
“What is it?” I ask.
She picks up her phone and slides her thumb across the screen. “An email from Bailey.”
My stomach drops. Bailey Pappas is our whiz of a publicist. She’s helped launch some major brands in the high-end fashion space, and we’re hoping she can do the same for Bellamy Brooks. Bailey has been knocking on some pretty amazing doors on our behalf—buyers for department stores, fashion magazines, major influencers, boutiques with huge followings that host trunk shows—and we’ve slowly but surely gotten traction, especially on social media.
“It’s aboutElle.” Mollie scrolls. Then she gasps, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh my God, we’re going to be in the feature.” Her eyes flick to meet mine as they fill with tears. “Wheeler, our boots are going to be inElle!”
I blink. Blink again. I feel a smile pull at the corners of my lips. My heart pinballs around inside my rib cage.
“Seriously?” I ask.
She throws up her arms. “Seriously. The purple pair of shorties. Apparently violet is the hue of the season.”
Holy shit, this is a big deal.
This is happening. Right now.
My dreams are literally coming true right before my eyes. This feature will take us to the next level. Stores and influencers will start knocking onourdoor, which means we’ll be selling a lot more Bellamy Brooks boots.
