This was because, being held tight against Gray with one of his arms around my belly on top of a magnificent equine beast, I didn’t want to stop. Not ever.
Not ever.
Still, he did.
Then again, we were far from his ranch-slash-orchard (and I saw, in daylight, the rows and rows and rows of densely planted, short peach trees that nearly surrounded the house and the outbuildings that also undoubtedly in spring were amazing) so we’d have to climb back on to get back.
Again, something to look forward to.
Something to look forward to.
I didn’t know if I could get used to that. I’d never had that either until last night.
I loved it even though I was so excited for the morning to come, I didn’t sleep a wink. And I didn’t care that Casey didn’t come back before I left again. I just wrote him a note, got ready and was waiting impatiently by the time Gray knocked on my door.
Breakfast at the diner, meeting his “beauties” which were just that (there were twelve of them, twelve!) and now this.
A ride over his land.
And there was a lot of it.
He shifted, throwing off a long, heavy leg, he dropped down then his hands came up to my waist and pulled me down. Then his gloved hand curled around mine which was also gloved since he went into the house and grabbed a pair of his Gran’s that I could borrow.
Grandma Miriam was not there, by the way. She was in town with some ladies, “knittin’ or whatever they do, probably just jabberin’,” (as Gray said).
This, too, surprised me about Grandma. She was in a wheelchair so, stupidly, I didn’t think it was easy for her to get around so I guessed she wouldn’t.
Obviously, she did.
Gray led me to the edge of the creek, his horse trailing behind us since Gray still held his reins. He stopped, dropped my hand but curled an arm around my shoulders and looked to the creek.
I curled my arm around his waist and looked to his profile.
“Is this your favorite place?” I guessed and he stopped looking at the creek to grin down at me.
“One of ‘em. Got a lotta land, dollface, and it’s gorgeous land. So got a lotta places.”
I could see that. We’d been riding awhile, maybe ten minutes and not at a sedate walk (which was fun). Everything I’d seen had been a candidate for top spot.
He turned his head, jerked his chin in front of him and my eyes followed.
When they did, he shared, “Across that creek, Bud Sharp’s Daddy owns that land.”
Wow.
“Really?” I asked, staring at it.
“His Daddy tried to buy ours from mine. His Daddy’s Daddy tried to buy it from my Granddad. This goes on, darlin’, for four generations. Four generations they wanted their hands on Cody land.”
That explained that.
Gray went on with brutal honesty.
“Bud wanted Cecily before me, had her after me.”
My body jolted.
No. Now that explained that.
His arm gave me a squeeze and I looked up at him to see his eyes on me.
“Before her was Connie. Before her was Donna. Before her was Debbie. All the way back to junior high when he picked up with a girl named Emily after I got tired of makin’ out with her at recess.” He grinned again. “Which was around about the time she got braces. I liked my lips the way they were. Bud’s were torn up for a month before he cottoned on.”
I didn’t want to find this amusing because it was kind of scary in a lot of ways. One of those being that he started kissing in junior high which put him around twelve or thirteen and I thought that was kind of young. And another was that he’d been kissing at that age and I’d just had my first kiss last night. But I couldn’t stop the small giggle from escaping.
Gray’s grin became a smile.
I bit my lip and looked back across the creek, letting it go and noting, “He didn’t look much like a rancher cowboy to me.”
And he didn’t. Smooth hands. Nice clothes. Gray’s clothes were nice, masculine, decent-quality, attractive but durable and not showy. And his hands were nice, beautiful actually, but that didn’t mean they weren’t callused. He was a man who worked with his hands. Bud Sharp was not.
“Buddy Sharp has got a lot of problems. One of ‘em’s bein’ a pansy-ass. He doesn’t like hard work. Sends his Dad over the edge. Got some degree, don’t know what, works one county over at the flagship branch of that county’s bank. Heard word, since Bud spread it, he makes big money. He’s got two sisters. Daddy Sharp is not feelin’ much joy with his son. You got land, you pass it down to your boy you spend a lifetime trainin’ to work it. You do not pass it down to your daughter’s husband unless you have no son.”
“Daddy Sharp share this with his son?” I asked quietly.
“Frequently and publicly which means also frequently privately,” Gray answered.
“So, seeing as Buddy is not into ranching and probably couldn’t care less about your land, he took the family feud with you in a different way.”
I felt Gray move and my eyes went back to him to see his movement meant he was looking at me.
“Not a family feud, Ivey, we get along fine. They make offers, we decline. They got twice as much land as us, though, not near as pretty.” He grinned yet again and I returned it. Then he continued, “They run livestock, got two orchards, a vineyard, they make wine. I hire hands for peach season and bring in help when I’m breakin’ a horse. Other than that, it’s just me. Jeb Sharp, he’s got five ranch hands, full time. I lost my mind, accepted an offer, they’d be happy to expand their operation. The answer’s no, Jeb don’t care.”
“So what’s Buddy’s problem?”
“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, looking back across the creek. “Though my Dad lived his life tellin’ me often he loved me and was proud of me. He died and I knew those two things down to my bones. Don’t know what would drive me if my Dad was openly disappointed in me for bein’ just who I was which wasn’t bad until I became an ass**le.”
I again couldn’t hold it back and laughed silently, this shaking my body so Gray looked back down at me, the dimple out.
Then I sobered and said softly, “You are who his father wants him to be.”
“Say again?”
I turned and pressed my front to his side, tipping my head way back. “Gray, you are who Jeb Sharp wants his son to be. And if he doesn’t mind frequently and publicly telling his son he’s disappointed in who he’s become, it probably stands to reason that the personification of that right across a creek has passed his lips on more than one occasion.”