Chapter Sixteen
Emma
Friday
I didn’t sleep well and woke earlier than usual, my stomach twisted into painful knots and body sore from so much tossing and turning. I was dreading going to the ranch more today than I had on Monday morning.
My plan then had been just to lie low for a while, let things blow over so Pete and I could get back to the way things had been before we slept together. It was working, too…except for any time we met each other’s gaze or were in the same place. That need I saw in him last Friday night was there all the time now. It pulled at me, flooded me with my own tingling desire for the feel of his body beneath my fingers. But no good would come of that. I obviously had to take charge of setting things straight myself instead of waiting for them to take care of themselves.
I drove to the ranch in the dark, the dread sitting heavy in my belly. I shouldn’t have agreed to leave the ranch with Pete. I could put my foot down, but we’d still be alone on the ranch together. Might as well go to the Texan where it wouldn’t just be the two of us.
Pete was standing in front of the house, waiting for me. I took a deep breath as I climbed out of my car. He was already walking over.
“Morning,” he said, sounding cheerful as usual. Wasn’t his gut full of twisting nerves? Or was that just me?
“Morning,” I replied. I was glad for the dark. I could feel the weight of his eyes moving over me, but I couldn’t see the heat in them, that need that matched what I felt inside.
“You ready to eat?”
I nodded once, though I couldn’t imagine my belly playing nice with anything I tried to put inside of it this morning. We climbed into his truck and drove into town. He tried to get conversation going a few times, but I kept my answers short. I hated this, wanting to talk to him but not really knowing what to say. I’d felt so comfortable at the ranch before all this. That was the worst part about it. Now I couldn’t do a damned thing without feeling self-conscious about how it looked or what kind of message it was sending.
There were only a few cars in the lot at the Texan. We parked and went inside, Pete holding the door so I could go in ahead of him. The place was empty besides the table in the far corner where the regular group of four old men were talking as they nursed cups of coffee. The one Pete had called Big Tom called out to us as soon as we walked in.
“Come on over, son! We’re not letting you keep that pretty girl all to yourself this morning!”
Pete grinned at me, his eyebrows high. “Want to have a cup of coffee with the old timers?”
I nodded, the flood of relief washing away the worst of my nerves. “Sure.” Anything that kept us from an awkward conversation by ourselves sounded good to me. Pete went around, shaking hands. When he got to Big Tom, he leaned in to give the man a hug. We pulled up chairs and sat down next to each other, the men eyeing me closely, each one smiling. Pete went around, pointing to each man as he introduced them to me again.
“That’s Tex, Big Tom, Laraby, and Winston.”
I had to smile at the way each man tipped his hat to me when his name was called. “Pleased to meet y’all again.”
Big Tom grinned as he looked over at Pete. “Have you taught the little lady how to play the game?”
Pete laughed and shook his head. “She’s only been to the Texan once. But she’s smart as a whip. You teach her once, and she’ll be beating you before you need a refill on that coffee.”
The men laughed as my cheeks tingled red at the high praise.
Tex motioned for the waitress, who came over with fresh mugs of coffee for Pete and me.
“What’s the tab on that coffee, darlin’?” Laraby asked, grinning up at her.
“Just over six dollars, darlin’,” the waitress said, returning his grin when she gave back his darlin’. The men had a good long laugh at that. She drifted off to help a few customers who’d just walked in, chuckling herself.
“Now you know what’s at stake,” Big Tom said. “Just over six dollars. Tell her the game, Petey.”
I had to turn to look into Pete’s big, blue eyes. There was no urgent need in them right now, just a warm contentment I hadn’t seen before. He felt comfortable here, with these men.
“It’s the game I told you about before. The oldest man picks a number between one and a hundred and keeps it to himself. The rest of the players pick numbers one by one, trying not to pick the one the oldest man chose. We get told higher or lower as clues. It always comes down to the final two players, each one trying not to guess the right number. Whoever says that number gets stuck with the bill.”
“Seems simple enough,” I said.
“Are you ready for that kind of a challenge?” Pete asked, his eyes getting even wider, the cheer in them contagious. So much so that I plum forgot how nervous I was supposed to be around him. I just wanted to play.
I nodded once, grinning myself.
Big Tom must have been the oldest, because he picked the number, nodding to all of us once he’d decided on a good one. We went around the table, starting with me. These men were all raised to be proper gentlemen, so, naturally, a lady would always go first.
“Twenty-three,” I said.
Big Tom smiled. “Higher.”
“Fifty-five,” Pete said, jumping in before Laraby, who was sitting to my right, could get the chance.
“Lower.”
Each man took his turn, the pool of possible numbers finally narrowing to just two. Somehow Pete had messed with the order, and it was his turn and then mine. He watched me closely, the look in his eyes drawing a small smile from me over how competitive this could get. He hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned this game the last time we ate here. Things could get serious over a tab of a few dollars.
“Thirty-three,” he said. That left thirty-two for me. We both looked at Big Tom.
The hefty old man slammed a big hand on the table, making our half-empty coffee mugs jump. “You got it, son! Which means you also got the bill to pay!”
“Damn it!” Pete said, but he was grinning, too. I could tell that was how he’d wanted things to work out.
I laughed when the rest of the old timers did, so deep it hurt my belly, but in a good way. The twisting knots were long gone. When the waitress wandered back to warm up our mugs of coffee, Pete and I ordered the same dishes we’d had the other day and ate them at the old timers’ table, joking and chuckling in between bites. Near the end of the meal, the conversation turned to Pete’s daddy.
“Charlie Gains was my best friend growing up,” Laraby began. “I never had sons of my own-”
“You never had daughters neither,” Tex grumbled, his old face breaking into a sly smile, but Laraby flat out ignored him and just kept on with what he was saying.
“So I took on Pete as soon as I could.” Laraby gave Pete a sweet, genuine smile, the way I’d sometimes caught Daddy smiling at me when he thought I wasn’t paying close attention. “Charlie and me used to get up to some real trouble when we were coming up.” He whistled, shaking his head as he thought about some of that trouble, his old eyes gleaming.
“Didn’t we all?” Winston chimed in. It was the most he’d said besides numbers since we’d sat down to join them.
“As much trouble as he used to get into — and he used to get into a lot,” Big Tom said, to a chorus of whistling and nodding heads, each man with something different to say about Pete’s daddy, the words mixing together, “He sure did straighten up when he married Linda.”
I snuck a glance over at Pete, who was looking across the table at the old man with a small smile on his lips. He’d left his hat in the truck, and his dark hair lay wild and windblown on the top of his head. Now that I knew how soft it was, the urge to smooth it nearly overwhelmed me. But what would the old timers say?
“A woman can break a man, or she can make a man,” Tex said, sounding wise, his weather-beaten face pinched into a thoughtful expression. “Linda made old Charlie.” His light, watery eyes fixed on mine all of a sudden; the intensity in them set me back in my chair. “Have you decided which you’ll do to Pete here, Missy?”
My cheeks colored, but I didn’t avert my eyes. “Not yet,” I said with a straight face.
He watched me for a minute before his lips split into a wide grin. He looked at Pete as the rest of the table chuckled low in their throats. “I like this one, Petey. Best keep her around.”
Pete’s cheeks were red, too, but he didn’t look away or swallow his grin. “I aim to.”
After finishing our meals and taking care of the coffee tab, Pete drove us back to the farm, the conversation light and easy in the truck, like it’d been after our date on Friday night. We came to a stop in the driveway back at the ranch, but neither of us seemed quite ready to get out. We turned to look at each other at the same time, a bashful grin curling the ends of Pete’s mouth.
“Are things okay between us?” he asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on the farm.” He paused a moment before adding, “Or around me.”
I smiled, too. All the nerves had left me at the restaurant. It’d been the game. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard at something so simple.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” I said.
His smile cranked up a little, but not all the way. He was still being hesitant. “I was thinking of doing a cookout tomorrow night. Nothing big, just some burgers and beers. I’d love it if you came. We could get to know each other a little more.”
“Okay,” I said, agreeing before I could think better of it. I’d enjoyed myself at breakfast too much to say no. And, I didn’t want to say no. I was tired of being careful. Right now, I just wanted to be happy.
“Alright then,” he replied, his grin widening even more. “Let’s get to work then.”
I climbed out of the truck with a smile and went to the barn to start the horses on their day.