Best move I ever made. BestfriendI ever made.
A year after we graduated, when Wesley’s dreams of becoming a top chef in a big city became too stressful, I offered him a job here at the ranch. Dad didn’t like the idea of a full-time chef for staff. Back then, it was biscuits and anything hot and ready. Usually cooked by “whoever lost the bet.” But with a growing business and opening our working ranch for tours, guests, and events, having a head chef run our kitchen and restaurant made the most sense.
Wes was reluctant at first, but he’s come to love it here. And hell, if he was starting to have regrets now, I don’t know if I could handle it.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, crossing my arms. “You’ve got that look.”
Pleasedon’ttellmeyou’releaving.
Wes rubs the back of his neck, hesitating. “It’s Rose. Lost her job at the gallery, so she’s back at that bar in downtown Manhattan, workin’ the late shift.” He shakes his head, and I feel his pain.
Working late at a bar is bound to face some risk. I don’t knowmuch about city crowds, but it can’t be all that different from our locals—especially when they’ve been drinking. If I had a kid sister, that wouldn’t sit well with me either.
I’ve only met Rose once. It was seven summers ago, when Wes’s family were visiting the ranch. After brief introductions, I wanted to give the family some space, so I hadn’t hung around. But later, as I rounded the corner of the stables, I found Rose lighting up a cigarette.
Straight dark hair, bright green eyes as mischievous as her brother’s. Pretty—and young. Too young for me to notice justhowpretty she was.
Knowing how Wes felt about smoking, and looking out for his sixteen-or-somewhat-year-old sister, I reached over, gently knocking it out of her hand.
“Does Wes know you smoke?” I asked.
She didn’t seem the least phased by the implied threat. Instead, she gave me a once over, starting at my boots, where the dusty cigarette bud lay, to the brim of my hat, blowing the last of the white smoke out of her mouth as she did.
Then met my eyes. “Not unless you plan on telling him, and I don’t think you want to do that.”
“And why’s that?”
She reached for a new one and lit it without a care in the world, then stuck the pack in my shirt pocket. “Might just have to tell him you gave it to me.”
I smirked. “I do hope you have a plan B.”
Her emerald eyes dropped to my chest. “You’re wearing the proof, dude.”
I let her take a drag before lifting it from her fingers and bringing it to my mouth. I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t smoke, but I imagined it was because the less she did right then, the better I’d feel.
“You always this pleasant?” I asked.
She took back the cigarette, putting her lips on the spot where mine were seconds ago. “Only with people who threaten me.”
“Look, I’ll let you finish this one, but if I see you sneak another, at the very least, I’ll need to tell your brother.” I met her eyes with a smirk. “Then he can tell your parents.”
I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I didn’t plan on meddling in anyone’s private business. And I sure as hell didn’t plan on making a bad first impression on my best friend’s parents by ratting out their daughter.
Her eyes flashed with alarm, but she stood her ground. “I’m not afraid of you.”
I frowned. Crap. Maybe I’d taken it too far? I never intended on scaring her. Teasing, maybe. But not intimidating. “Am I giving you a reason to be?”
She glanced back at our three-story walk-up. “I don’t know, are you?” she asked cautiously, handing me the half-smoked cigarette and then popping a stick of gum.
I put it out and looked into her eyes. Seeing that behind her tough-girl exterior, she might be a little vulnerable, maybe even scared? At the very least, she didn’t want to disappoint her family. And that was something I could relate to.
“Never,” I assured her.
“Anyway,” Wes goes on now, “I told her I could help her find something else, similar to what she was doing at the gallery, but she doesn’t want it. Said the cash tips she makes bartending are keeping her from getting evicted. I fucking can’t with this girl.”
What I know about Rose now—and that’s plenty, going by the eyes of her older brother—is that she moved to New York for a bachelor’s in psychology at NYU, but dropped out mid-way through her senior year to become an artist.
A questionable choice that has too many holes, but not my business.
