by K. C. Crowne
“Don’t be so dramatic. Everyone’s parents love me.”
He side-eyed me. “You don’t know my dad, Molly. He’s worked on the ranch all his life, save for the years he was in the military, and he’s got a certain way of doing things.”
“Let me guess – the John Wayne strong silent type.”
“Oh, he’s strong alright. And silent, yeah, most definitely that. The kind of guy who when you come in bleeding looks up from his coffee for a second and tells you to walk it off.”
“Like, resilient, self-sufficient?”
“Something like that. Rancher, solider, cowboy – it’s like he got a ‘how to be a manly man’ checklist when he was a kid and went down it, ticking off all the boxes.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Well, sure. But it means he wasn’t exactly on board when I snuck into my aunt’s bathroom when I was a teenager and gave myself a makeover that made me look like I’d escaped from the circus.” “Wait, does that mean he knows about…you know? And isn’t cool with it?”
He shook his head. “Not sure if he knows. But as tough as the old man is, he’s always been supportive. Still, not exactly something I’m looking forward to dropping on his lap.
Christopher’s frown seemed to drag down even further.
“You’re going to give yourself premature wrinkles if you keep making that face,” I teased. I reached out for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. I know you and your dad have had differences, but you’re not alone this time. Like it or not, you’ve got me. I’m stuck on you like a horrible rash.”
“Well thank you for that,” he replied, looking only somewhat relieved. “I don’t know what I’d do on this visit without you.”
“I don’t either,” I continued teasing. “Probably frown all the time, and get your mean mug stuck permanently. Children will cry and seek shelter when you leave the house.”
That finally brought out a small chuckle from him. I let go of his hand and glanced out the window at the foreign scenery around me.
I’d never been this far west before. A born and bred big apple gal, I’d always dreamt of leaving New York to visit Los Angeles or maybe San Francisco. Denver or ski country would be cool too. But the middle of nowhere Texas? I never imagined ending up there.
The countryside was beautiful but seemed totally foreign to me. I was used to skyscrapers, not open air and blue skies that seemed to go on forever.
I was also serious about not seeing a Starbucks in half an hour. It was hard for me to fathom a town without at least one or two spots where I could snag my usual triple shots of espresso. There were at least five in my neighbourhood, mixed in with a few hipster shops I loved to frequent. Then again, I should have known what I was getting into when I volunteered to take a trip down memory lane with Christopher.
It’d been at least five minutes since I’d seen any sign of life, and at least ten minutes since we’d passed the last house. Mostly all I saw was raw, untouched land with lush green fields that stretched for miles and a random tumbleweed every once in a while. I felt like I was in some old Western movie, and silently cursed myself for leaving my leather cowgirl boots at home.
I was wildly excited though.
We were staying at Christopher’s family ranch, complete with horses and barns, the whole nine yards. It was hard to imagine that Christopher had once lived his life out there. He was as much a city dweller as me, having spent half his life in New York City before his mother passed away, hence the distinct lack of an accent.
We’d passed through Patterson –the nearest town- on our way in. It was a charming place – one of those tiny Texan towns with a main street lined with mom and pop stores, the kind of place where you imagined everyone knew one another’s names. And the landscape was beautiful. There’d been some empty rolling plains on the way in, but Patterson was all green, oak trees hanging over the streets, little parks here and there. The way up to the ranch was dirt, thick forests on both sides. After spending so much time in New York, it felt like I was in a place pulled out of another time, another world.
Of course, I wouldn’t mind it one bit if my best friend’s edgy charm came hand and hand with a sexy southern twang. Christopher, on the other hand, was not a fan of his upbringing.
He’d spent his teen years with his dad and had nothing but negative things to say about that time of his life. When I told him I’d never ridden a horse, he’d laughed and told me I wasn’t missing anything - that it wasn’t that special. To spare myself the judgement, I kept my desire to try my hand at horseback riding to myself after that.
“Preparing to meet my pops?” Christopher asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“No, not at all. I don’t really need to prepare for that,” I explained with sureness in my voice. “Just taking in the scenery and thinking about how it’s so different than the city. It’s kinda’ nice. Soothing. Peaceful.”
“Personally, I hate it. I can’t wait to get back to New York.”
As lovely as it was, I had a hard time imagining life out there, given I was so used to conveniences, and proximity to everything we had in New York. I couldn’t imagine giving it up for good. But we were only there for a week, so I could live with roughin’ it for that long.
At least I’d hope so.
When Christopher asked me to join him on the trip, I’d been a little unsure. I was in the middle of job hunting after my internship had come to an end. We had discussed starting our own boutique, though that was more of a pipe dream at this point. When he told me I’d be meeting his dad and the circumstances behind it, I knew I had to be there for him.
I understood that having a father like his, when he was a city boy with an eye for fashion design, had to be hard. I couldn’t imagine Christopher on the back of a horse or wearing cowboy boots and a hat. That just wasn’t his aesthetic. Even if his dad had tried to force it upon him, it obviously didn’t click.
Christopher’s phone buzzed in the cup holder, his hand shooting out to grab it. I watched for a moment as he fumbled with the thing, trying to swipe and put in his password while keeping his eyes on the road.
“Shit,” he said. “Text from my dad.”
The man himself. I took the phone from Christopher’s hand after he’d put in the password.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“No texting and driving. I’ll read it.”
“You kidding? I can do both. Millennials are the masters of multi-tasking, Molly.”
“That’s what every Millennial says until they wrap their car around a tree while they’re checking their Instagram. Let me get it.”
“Alright, fine. Just, uh, don’t go into the pictures. Classified stuff in there.”
I laughed before pulling up the text from his dad. It wasn’t anything crazy – just “Hi, Christopher. Wanted to see when you were getting in. Let me know.” It was written in straightforward language, not an emoji to be seen.
“What’d he say?” Christopher asked.
I was less concerned with the message, and more with the picture of his dad at the top of the screen. Angling the phone so Christopher couldn’t see the front, I expanded the picture.
Holy shit. My best friend’s dad was hot as hell. The picture was of him standing in front of a barn, his arms crossed over a massive, beefy chest as he leaned against the door. Underneath the brim of his cowboy hat I could make out his rugged features – steely eyes, a wide jaw dusted with stubble, his mouth in a flat, serious line. I could tell he was tall, built solid as the truck he no doubt drove.
A tinge of warmth spread outward from between my legs as I regarded the picture. I knew it was wrong, so wrong, to be looking at my best friend’s dad like that. And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that he was much older than me. But that didn’t diminish my attraction. If anything, it made me wonder what an experienced, older man like that could teach a virgin like me.
“Molly, what’s it say?”
&nb
sp; “Um, nothing,” I said. “Just wondering when you’re getting in.”
“Tell him not long. But make it sound like me, you know?”
I fired back a quick text, a thrill running through me at the idea of talking to him.
“So,” Christopher said, “with my dad, just sit back and stay quiet. I can do most of the talking. He can be a little lacking in the tact department, and I don’t want you feeling bad if he phrases things in the wrong way or something.
“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m a big girl who can handle myself around difficult people. No exception here.”
Christopher side-eyed me again and shook his head. “You really don’t understand, Molly. My dad is disappointed in me. My career was never good enough for him. He wanted me to work at the ranch like him and his brothers. He tried to talk me out of moving back to New York City, of pursuing fashion, of pretty much doing anything I love. And he doesn’t mince words. He’ll likely pass the same judgements on you because you’re from the city and some ‘pie in the sky’ fashion designer like me.” He sucked in a breath and said, “I don’t think you’ve met anyone like my father.”
“That may be so but at the end of the day he’s still a human like the rest of us.”
Only super-hot.
“A stubborn-ass cowboy human.”
“Well, I have thick skin. I can handle myself; you can stay rest assured I’ve got my big girl panties on.” Though I wouldn’t mind taking them right off for a man like Silas.
“Also—I know you can be a bit outspoken. You might want to tone it down a bit while you’re here.”
My jaw dropped. “Outspoken? Me!?”
“Yes, you,” he chuckled, running a hand over his baby smooth chin. “I know the reason your boss didn’t keep you on after the internship, remember?”
“Well, he was a jerk. And he was wrong. The outfit he wanted to premier at Fashion Week was hideous. And who was right? What did the magazines have to say about it?”
“They agreed with you, yes. It was a God awful ensemble.”
“Exactly. I was merely being truthful, and Stephan couldn’t handle it."
“And also why you need to work for yourself. You’re too hard-headed sometimes.”
I wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Fine, I’ll give you that. You’re right. And it’s why we have to figure out how we’re going to open our own place one day.”
“In a city like New York, one of us will have to win the lottery or find some wall street sugar daddy to fund the project.”
“Maybe. Or maybe just know the right people and hustle.”
Christopher and I had been talking for years about opening our own boutique. Christopher and Molly Designs. Or Molly and Christopher. We were still undecided. Our tastes meshed well together. We were both brutally honest but handled feedback well. I had no doubt that we’d work well together.
But like he said, it was an issue of money. Lots of it.
And, of course, having a name people recognized. But that would come in time, once we were able to establish ourselves. I had no doubt we’d go viral. I was confident in our exceptional abilities and in our designs.
At this point, low clouds hung over us, blocking the remaining sunlight. It was beginning to get dark; we’d spent most of the day traveling. I knew I should be tired, but I was wide awake and curious about our destination and meeting the cowboy behind the photo. I couldn’t seem to get his striking soulful eyes out of my mind. The man was a knockout that much was true. However, I hoped that Christopher’s opinion of our soon to be host was mostly biased and partial like so many of our judgements could be of our close relative.
I’d soon find out. I started to feel butterflies in my stomach in anticipation of meeting the man in person.
“So, how much longer until we reach the fortress of daddy?” I tried not to sound too anxious. Or excited.
“We’re almost there,” he said quietly, the strain returning to his voice.
We turned off the pavement and down a dirt road.
“Holy cow balls, this place is mammoth!” I said.
Christopher had told me it was a luxury ranch, but I had no idea what he meant by that. I pictured horses and stables and a lot of open fields.
Christopher had explained that the guest cabins had hot tubs with stunning views, which sounded really nice, but I had no idea what to expect other than that.
We drove for what felt like an eternity down the dirt road.
Finally, the way opened before us, and in the distance, I caught sight of the ranch for the first time. My breath caught in my throat.
“Look at you Richie Rich. I can’t believe you grew up here,” I said.
Christopher grew visibly more tense, gripping the steering wheel of the rental car until his knuckles were near-white.
He stared straight ahead and didn’t say a word.
The expanse of land in the distance looked like it met the sky, which was turning eye-catching shades of purples and pinks and oranges. I felt like I was at a southern spa resort.
I could just imagine lounging in a jacuzzi, glass of wine in hand, watching the sun set over the fields.it all seemed heavenly.
There was a big, metal gate with the name Rainbow Canyons Ranch spelled out in the brass. The gates were closed, but I could see the main house just inside.
Christopher entered some numbers into a keypad and the gates parted. He drove through them, and the closer I got to the house, the more I most have been drooling like a fool in my seat.
“You lived here.” I knew that was Captain Obvious in me speaking, but I still had trouble fathoming that Christopher lived here and never talked about the mansion. He’d called it a cabin, made it sound pretty humble. And while it technically was a cabin, it was a massive one with what appeared to be three stories. The owner had spared no expense.
“Yep. For a few years before I went away to college,” Christopher said dryly. “Sure, I enjoyed some great memories here, but behind the walls it’s not as great as it looks, trust me. A lot went down in this place. Pretty much all my uncles live here, so while it’s big and lavish, there’s a lot of people in there. All of them are like my dad; old-fashioned macho types who have no idea what to do with someone like me.”
“That’s not necessary a bad thing,” I teased.
Truth be told, I was starting to get why Christopher felt the way he did about the resort.
I couldn’t imagine sharing a place - even one as big as this - with my entire family. It was hard enough to share an apartment with Christopher.
Or maybe I was just used to the smaller spaces and apartments we had in New York. Maybe this was just normal in Texas.
“Christopher, why didn’t you tell me your family was loaded?” I joked as he pulled the rental car into the first available spot next to the house. Our tiny compact Toyota looked out of place amongst the four massive trucks lined up. I had to laugh.
“My dad’s family is fairly well-off, yes, but you’ll learn pretty quickly that they’re not flashy, and they don’t live like they’re wealthy. They’re pretty humble about the rich-as-hell thing.”
There was a large pond out front, and the house seemed to be built around it, the flowers and even the walkway twisting alongside, protecting the natural beauty of the water.
I felt like my eyes might be lying, tricking my mind into the ethereal beauty.
“Ready to face the firing squad?”
I shook my head and chuckled. “That’s one hell of a way to talk about your family.”
“Yah, I know. They’re really not that bad. I’m just the black sheep, I guess,” he said with a sigh, still not getting out of the car.
“Well, you have me, babe. We’ll get through it together.”
I squeezed his upper arm before removing my seat belt and getting out of the car, hoping he’d follow my lead. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he got out of the car and took a deep breath.
“It still smells the same,”
he said, looking around.
“Like clean, fresh air?”
“Like horse shit,” he sneered, but I heard a laugh in his tone.
In the distance, you could catch a whiff of horses, but I had to really focus on that. Mostly, it smelled clean and fresh. Exactly how it looked.
And I thought it was delightful.
But I knew Christopher was dealing with the dread of being home, so I let it slide.
We headed for the walkway wrapping around the pond. An oak tree hung above us, its majestic size and glorious greenery eye-catching. By my guess, the place had to be a honeymoon destination. Off the beaten path, where you could be mostly alone with nature and the person you loved.
It sounded ideal to me.
But what did I know?
My love life depended on the erotic experiences my gay best friend shared with me and the Jersey Shore.
I grabbed Christopher’s hand and held onto it, unable to hide the grin that stretched across my face. He glanced at me and asked, “Why are you so disturbingly smiley, woman?”
“I’m just happy to be here. Even if your family is packed with shit tards, I’m still meeting them for the first time and that’s still exciting.”
“Well, I hope they don’t burst your bubble too quick,” he mumbled under his breath.
I shot him a knowing smile and blew him a kiss just as someone walked down the front steps of the house.
The other two men were tall and burly like Christopher’s dad, one with shaggy, brown hair and the other with a blond tussle on his head and matching beard. They were dressed in rugged jeans and cowboy boots. I could tell right away that they were related – both had the same steely gaze and manly features that I’d seen in the photo. And they carried themselves with strength, taking slow, sauntering steps as if they weren’t worried about a thing in the world.
They were both hot-beyond-compare. But there was something about Christopher’s dad, something that tugged at me, something that made me really have to try to put the picture I’d seen out of my head.
“Howdy,” the first man mumbled.
“This is my uncle, Wyatt,” Christopher introduced. “And the man coming up behind him is Uncle Travis.”