“I don’t even know who that is,” I drawl, finishing up what’s left in my glass before pushing to a stand. “Would you like a drink?” I offer.
His mismatched eyes look from the glass in my hand up to my face before he smiles. “Sure. I’ll have what you’re drinking.”
I hand him the drink, meeting his gaze for a moment before returning to my chair. Ash watches me over the top of his glass as he takes a sip, a slight wince twisting his face as he swallows. “So, why exactly do you listen to the same type of music my Great Grandpa Earl listens to?” he asks, taking me by surprise.
Choking out a laugh, I rub my hand over the stubble that lines my jaw. “I like the classics,” I tell him. “Johnny, Willie, Dolly, Hank. It’s what I grew up on. That’s not all I listen to, though. I also enjoy more recent country music.”
“No rock?” Ash arches a brow as he regards me. “No metal?”
I shake my head.
“Wow.” Huffing out a chuckle, he adds, “You really are a cowboy, through and through, aren’t you?”
“My choice in music is what defines me bein’ a cowboy to you?”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs, giving me a blank expression. “What else is there?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I work on a literal cattle ranch.”
Ash smirks, and I know he’s fucking with me. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll fix your lack of musical range in no time.”
Turning his head, he focuses on the wall behind the record player. Pictures fill the space, both from my childhood and adolescence, but also of Tucker throughout the years. From his side profile, I can see the resemblance between him and his sister, but they’re also very different at the same time. Where her features are soft, his are sharp. Her nose is more button-like, while his is strong and straight, slightly down-turned at the tip. A silver hoop runs through his nostril, glinting under the dim lighting, and his lashes…they’re so long and dark, I can see them from all the way over here.
Realizing that I’ve been staring at the guy for entirely too long to be deemed appropriate, I shake my head, looking straight ahead as I take a swallow from my bourbon.
That was weird.
“Do you think Tucker will grow up and work on the ranch too?” Ash asks, turning his gaze on me, but I don’t look at him.
I nod my head once. “Yup. It’s what my father did, what I did, and what the next generation will do too.”
“What if he doesn’t want to?”
That gets me to meet his gaze. “Why wouldn’t he want to? It’s the family business. It’s what’s expected of him, and any other Moore.”
Ash has no trouble holding eye contact, I’m gathering. “Well, yeah. But what if that’s not what he wants? What if he grows up and decides he’d rather be a doctor or a lawyer or a rock star?”
I cock a brow. “A rock star?”
A smile splits his face, and he shrugs. “You never know. Would you support him if his dreams weren’t here at this ranch? If he wanted something different than what was expected of him?”
“Course, I would.” My answer is instant, which, to be honest, takes me by surprise since it’s not something I’ve ever considered before. The Moore men have always worked the ranch. We’ve all grown up here, followed after our fathers and grandfathers before us. There was never a question of if that was what we were going to do, and I guess I never even thought twice about it when it came to Tucker.
“How long has this place been in your family?”
Ash takes a pull from the bourbon, but never takes his eyes off me. There’s something intense in his gaze, but I can’t put my finger on why that is.
“For seven generations.”
“Damn, that’s a long time.”
I nod, looking away. “Sure is.”
We fall into a comfortable silence after that, listening to the music as we sip our drinks. I’m the first one to get up and announce I’m going to bed, and as I go through the motions before sliding between my sheets, I can’t help but replay the entire evening. His curiosity, the way he looked at me as I spoke, how I didn’t mind his questions even though I typically prefer the quiet when I’m trying to relax and wind down at night.
Maybe he’s not as bad as I originally thought.
Maybe hiring him won’t turn out to be a mistake.
