“Don’t fuckin’ bother,” a voice grunts from behind me.
Turning around, my lips curve up into a smile at the sight of the man standing with his legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest.
“Beaumont,” I murmur, taking a step toward him. I throw my arm over his shoulder, thumping him on the back in a hug.
“Couldn’t let you navigate LA traffic alone,” he says with a chuckle.
“What? Like it’s worse than Dallas, Houston, or Austin?” I ask.
He shakes his head once. “Yeah, it fuckin’ is.” He laughs. “My car is waiting, Hutton and the baby are inside, let’s go.”
Tugging my suitcase behind me, I follow my friend. “How’d you know what flight I took?” I ask.
“Asked Wyatt.”
Friends. No. Family. That’s what they are, and I’m a lucky bastard to have them. Without a word, we make our way toward the pick-up area. There is a big black SUV parked and running, I know without a doubt that it’s Beau’s.
I hear someone scream his name, and he grunts as his feet move faster. Without a word, a man appears, opening his door, and I watch as my friend practically dives into the backseat. The man takes my luggage from me wordlessly, and I follow behind Beau and climb into the back of the car myself.
“Hey, Ford,” a sweet voice calls out from behind me.
Turning around, I see Hutton with a baby carrier strapped in next to her. “Hey, Hutt.” I smile.
Her eyes are alight with mischief and I wonder just what the fool woman is up to. Thankfully, she doesn’t make me wait too long to find out. She smiles widely, licking her lips as her gaze shifts from Beaumont, then back to me.
“Dinner tonight?” she asks. “Where are you staying?”
I don’t know why she’s acting like dinner is some big thing, I have dinner with them all the time.
“He’s staying with us,” Beaumont snaps.
“I’m staying at the Surfrider,” I grumble.
“Bullshit,” Beau barks. “That place is too expensive, plus I have a feeling you’ll only need a room for one night, after that you’ll be staying with your woman.”
I almost laugh in his face, but I don’t. Honestly, I have no clue what’s going to happen. I know that I said that I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but really, I just don’t know. I’m not the kind of man to force her to do anything, probably why I can’t fucking keep her around in the first place.
Instead of arguing with him, I just thank him for the place to stay. Hutton giggles behind me and I know that she’s up to something, I just don’t know what the fuck it is.
Leaning back in the seat, I close my eyes for a moment, thinking about everything that’s happened the past few months, wondering if all of this shit is going to be completely fruitless. Stephanie could tell me to just turn my ass around and get the fuck out. She just might.
The idea of not having her after she came back to Gallup and we were together, after I’d had a taste of what I’ve been missing for seventeen years, it’s really starting to fuck me up. I keep wondering if this could be all in my head, if maybe I’m in love with the idea of the past, and what could have been, instead of actually her.
“You’re thinkin’ too hard, brother,” Beaumont says.
Turning toward him, I’m surprised to see that he’s standing at the open door. Looking behind me, I blink when I see that the back seat is now empty. I hadn’t realized that we were stopped, let alone everyone had filed out of the car.
“Am I?” I ask.
He nods his head, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah, c’mon inside. Get cleaned up and we’ll hang out before dinner.”
“You cookin’?” I ask.
“Got some fancy as fuck steaks at the market,” he murmurs.
I arch a brow, knowing that he had to have spent way too much money on them, because they upcharge like a motherfucker.
“Yeah?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, some grass-fed bullshit from some fuckin’ ranch in Texas, FBM Ranch or some such bullshit.”
“What?”
He chuckles. “Big ass deal here, didn’t you know? Your shit is practically famous.”
“No, I didn’t,” I mutter.
He nods. “Yeah. You’ve made a name for yourself, Ford.”
“You’re telling me this because?”
He tilts his head to the side. “No reason, just tellin’ ya.”
Arching a brow, I don’t call him on his bullshit. Instead, I climb out of the SUV and make my way around the front of it and toward him. Together we make our way inside and I think about Stephanie, about my cattle company, about everything that Beaumont isn’t saying.
All of it.
I can feel it, deep in my bones. This trip is going to change my entire life. I just don’t know what the outcome is going to be and that shit terrifies me, but it’s time for me to make a change, no matter what the future looks like. I’m done being a spectator in my own life.
Chapter Twenty-One
STEPHANIE
I’m standing in Beaumont’s back yard wondering if this was the right move to make.
“You’re going to be just fine,” Damion announces, interrupting my internal flip-flopping.
“Am I?” I ask.
He snorts, taking a sip from his mimosa. He’s lying down on Beau’s lounger, his shades on as he watches the sunset. The swimming pool is practically glittering in the distance, and I wonder just how I can be surrounded by all of this beauty and be absolutely miserable on the inside.
“You heard from the douchebag?”
I shake my head, knowing that he’s asking me about Sebastian. I haven’t heard anything from him since my last meet up with Kirill at his home. I have no clue if Sebastian is alive or dead, and there’s a little part of me that doesn’t even care one way or the other.
“I should probably go by his place, make sure he’s okay,” I murmur.
“Fuck that,” Damion snaps.
Turning to look over my shoulder at him, my eyes widen and I shake my head. “He’s still a person,” I point out.
He grunts, taking another sip of his mimosa. “He may be, but he sold titty pictures of you to the highest bidder. That makes him fucking scum in my book and therefore he doesn’t deserve your caring consideration.”
“I think that’s enough mimosa, Damion,” I whisper, reaching for his glass.
He moves his hand out of my reach and shakes his head. “First off, never take a man’s mimosa. Secondly, there can never be too much mimosa.”
“Why are you even drinking that? It’s six in the evening.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s always a good time for a mimosa.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. He’s not wrong. Mimosas really are always good. Instead of arguing with him over his alcoholic beverage, I shift the conversation back to Sebastian. I chew on my bottom lip and take my phone out of my pocket.
“Maybe I should just call him.”
“Stephanie,” Damion barks.
Lifting my eyes to meet his, my teeth sink into the flesh of my lip. “What?”