It’s still mind-blowing to me that he owns a marijuana store. Stuff like that doesn’t exist here, at all. You get caught buying weed, you get in trouble. It always takes me back to see how other places in the country do things differently.
Xander snorts. “I’ve been a pothead since I was a teenager. When the legalization of weed happened, I wanted to own my own store, eventually. At first, it was a pipe dream, but then I got into college, and realized how good I am with numbers and all that. Suddenly, my pipe dream didn’t feel as far-fetched anymore.”
“So, you just decided to do it?”
“Well, in simple terms, yes. But there’s a lot more that goes into it than just deciding to do it. We had to come up with a solid business plan, find the right location—which, there are tons of restrictions. It couldn’t be near schools, parks, daycare centers, libraries, anything like that. Then we had to find investors and apply for the right loans. Once we had all that set, we had toapply and present it all to the Washington State Liquor and Cannabis Board. It was a long process that felt never ending.”
“Damn.” That’s way more elaborate than I would’ve thought. But then again, what the hell do I know? “Is your boyfriend your business partner? What’s his name again?”
“Henry,” he offers, and something about his stupid name leaves a sour taste on the back of my tongue. I don’t know why. “And no, he isn’t. He is one of our investors, though.”
Henry’s a rich boy, then.
My brows lift at that. “Did you guys start dating before or after he invested?”
“After. It’s a long story, but like I told you before, he came in as a customer for a while. That’s how it started.”
Xander’s told me very little about this guy, but there’s something about him I don’t like. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.
“How’s he feel about you being here?” I ask, pushing down the growing distaste I feel in my gut.
“He thinks it’s stupid that I’m here. That my aunt should’ve hired someone.” Resting his arms behind himself, he extends his legs, probably trying to stretch them since he’s been sitting crisscross for so long. “I think he’s flying down here in a few weeks for my birthday.”
I grit my teeth, not understanding this bubbling annoyance flaring inside of me. “Do I get to meet him?” I ask.
Xander’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you want to?”
No.“Well, I think as your new best friend, I should meet the boyfriend, don’t you?”
“Best friend, huh?” A smirk splits his face, a matching one reflected on mine.
Shrugging, I say, “I mean, I’d say we’re well on our way. Wouldn’t you?”
He laughs. “Obviously.”
We hang out for a little while longer before the horses get restless. When we get back to his house, I help him put them out in the pasture before I head home to get changed for the gym. The entire time, I feel more confused than ever.
7
XANDER DAWSON
Aunt Colette is starting to move more and do things around the house again. She’s slow, and she tires easily, but she’s doing it. Andboy, is it annoying as all hell. Over the last several weeks, I’ve developed a nice routine when it comes to the chores and the housework. I can get everything done in a decent amount of time in the morning, and again in the evening. Well, now, all that’s flown out the window. Sheinsistson helping, and lord save my ass if I try to do it all myself.
I got my ass chewed out this morning after telling her she should go back inside and rest while I finish the chores. How dare I try to make things easy on her. It’s not the whole fucking reason I’m here or anything. She’s getting on my last goddamn nerve, and staring down at the text message I just got, I should be more excited, but instead, I stare at it like I don’t know what to do with it.
Cope: There’s a bonfire tonight up at my buddy’s ranch. Wanna come?
Do I want to go?Uh, yes.
Should I go?Probably not.
It’s been about a week since he took me on that trail ride turned picnic with a view, and it’s a day that’s been on my mind on a constant loop. Ever since he placed his hands on my body and helped me get on that horse, this slow-brewing crush I’ve felt toward him has intensified tenfold. It’s like his fingertips burned their memory into my hips, even over my clothes, and the way I swear he was looking at me with some sort of desire while we ate.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’m making it all up, though, because as far as I know, Cope identifies as straight. Falling for a straight guy is about the dumbest thing I could do,especiallywhen I have a boyfriend, and shouldn’t be developing feelings for anybody—straight or not—except him.
Although, it’s not that anybody would know I have a boyfriend with how little Henry and I communicate. Honestly, that’s neither here nor there. Yet still…I can’t help but wholly want to accept Cope’s offer to go hang out with himandhis friends tonight.
Raking my fingers through my messy hair, I grumble before doing the only logical thing one can do…FaceTime my best friend for advice. It rings a few times before the line connects, his bright face taking up most of the screen, dirty blonde hair longer than usual.
