Page 84 of Duke
Wheeler’s fingers slow to a stop as she looks up at me thoughtfully. “Cash wears those boots nonstop.”
“Well, yeah. They’re boots with meaning. There’s a story there. And I think it’s a sign of respect to wear the boots of a man you admired.”
“Were y’all close? You and Garrett?”
I tip back what’s left of my latte. Even lukewarm, it’s delicious. “We were. He came into our lives when we really needed a father figure. If it wasn’t for him…” I shake my head. “Well, you’d like me, but you wouldn’tlikeme.”
“I like you?”
“Oh, Blue, youlikeme.” I drop my empty cup on the table. “But yeah, Garrett was awesome. Was he perfect? No. But he wasn’t like anyone else I had ever met up to that point. He was a rancher, obviously, like pretty much everyone else in Hartsville. But he was also interested in other shit. He was curious about the world. He loved ideas. I distinctly remember him telling me the story of how he struck oil on his land after years of researchand prospecting. After that, he got really into bringing back biodiversity to the ranch, and we undertook this huge project he designed to make the property green again. He loved music. Loved to fish.” I shrug. “Guess he was a little restless too.”
“Just like you.”
I scoff. “You give me too much credit. Garrett was one of a kind. He’d definitely wear Bellamy Brooks boots, though.”
“Mollie would love to hear that,” Wheeler replies with a smile.
“He’d be proud of y’all.”
“He’d be proud of you too, Duke. All of y’all.” It’s her turn to scoff. “I’ve truly never met men like the five of you.”
“Men with large shafts?” I hold my hands apart again.
She laughs, and a burst of warmth moves through me. “Kind men. Thoughtful men. Men who give a shit about the right things.”
Christ, are my eyes getting a little misty?
“Y’all should make it happen.” I nod at her laptop. “The men’s collection.”
She leans back in her chair. “You did get me awfully excited.”
“I know your buttons.”
“Your innuendos are shockingly vulgar.”
“And a goddamned delight.” I smile.
She smiles back. We sit like that for a beat too long, the space between us alive.
I feel alive. Didn’t sleep all that great, but you wouldn’t know it from the energy that thrums through my veins.
Are we stupid to not have this baby? What if he or she is not the end of our story but the start of it?
My rational mind knows our situation is much more nuanced than that. But I keep getting these thoughts about, well, giving the decision more thought. More time.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’mnotsure I want to end the pregnancy. Is that just because I have a crush on Wheeler,though, and I’d do anything to keep her around? Because that’s just plain fucked up.
I clear my throat and look down at my computer screen. “I, uh, should get to these invoices.”
“Right.” Wheeler sits back up. “Me too. I probably need an hour. Then you wanna head home? I’m already tired, even though I’ve done, like, practically nothing today.”
If only home was the same place for both of us.
“You mean you only planned out the future of your companyandwent to an all-important appointment?” I tilt my head. “Totally nothing.”
“I haven’t been productive is what I’m saying.”
“There’s gotta be more to the day than that, yeah? You’re doing better than you think.”
