Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
But despite all of that, as I made my way through the late-afternoon crowd of revelers on Poke Street, I was half-inclined to head back to the ranch and call it a night. Way’s sister had announced her pregnancy earlier in the evening, and seeing the Fletcher family’s excitement over the news was bittersweet. There had been times in the past year when I’d envied their close family dynamic, but other times, like tonight, it had made me uncomfortable. They weren’t my family—not that I had much of one anymore—and being around them sometimes reminded me of my loss.
Watching Silas and Way fall in love and build a life together sometimes hit me the same way. I was glad for Silas, of course. More than glad. After a decade of being the rock and the fixer for the tight-knit group of college friends we referred to as our “brotherhood,” he deserved to soak up every bit of happiness he could find, and it was clear Way loved him deeply. Watching the pair together, though, I’d started to feel that maybe I didn’t have everything I wanted. The winter nights out here were long and cold, and I’d often wondered if they’d be better spent with a warm body and kind soul sharing my bed. While Majestic was a wonderful place to live, it wasn’t exactly brimming with what Way jokingly referred to as “casual encounters,” much less potential life partners.
Not that I had any interest in one of those anyway.
“Devon, get over here!” Way’s Aunt Blake called from the nearby Love Muffin booth, where she was busy passing out her famous toffee bars and honey garlic chicken skewers. Big vats of lemonade weighed down a table behind her, and coolers full of ice were stacked underneath. My arms twinged at the reminder of the heavy lifting I’d helped her with earlier.
“Congratulations,” I said, offering her a smile after hearing Sheridan and Bo’s news. No one would spoil that baby more than Jolene Blake. “I just saw Sheridan and Bo.”
Her face lit up as she handed me a skewer. “Gonna have us a baby, Dev. Best be prepared, especially since Waylon is going to take a little warming up to the idea.”
That surprised me. Silas’s husband seemed like the quintessential family man. “He doesn’t like kids?” I understood the aversion. Babies and I didn’t really get along, mostly because I didn’t know what to do with them. As a single man, I mostly spent my time with other guys. I hadn’t spent much time around kids at all.
“It’s not that. He just doesn’t have experience. It’s okay. He’ll get over it real quick, don’t you worry.”
I nodded while thinking, Better him than me. I liked my life just the way it was. Being able to take a long trail ride whenever the mood hit, having the option of eating cereal for dinner five nights in a row, and barking out the word fuck when it was called for were all freedoms I wouldn’t have if I’d ever chosen to raise a kid.
No, thanks. Not for me. It was one of the best-known benefits of being a gay man. No one assumed kids were part of my life plan.
“I’m sure he’ll be a doting uncle,” I said politely before pulling a piece of chicken off the skewer with my teeth.
She gave me an assessing glance. “You’ll make a good father, too, one day.”
I nearly choked on the chicken. “No, thanks.”
“I can see it. Maybe now’s not the right time, but you find the right man, and it’ll happen.”
Jolene Blake was a force to be reckoned with. She’d decided early on to adopt me whether I liked it or not. Most of the time, I liked it fine. She brought me dinner, made sure I was included in family meals, and introduced me to various townsfolk. Her attention to me had started as an intense matchmaking scheme trying to connect me with her son, Foster, and she was still hell-bent on getting the two of us together.
I’d avoided her schemes for the most part—only because he was Way’s best friend and unavoidable in Majestic—on the chance things between us became awkward.
But one night in the dead of winter and after one too many drinks at the Old Oak, Foster and I had come close. We’d stayed late at a corner table, sharing intimate confessions about previous hookups and life regrets. When I’d asked him if he wanted to come back to the ranch with me, no strings attached, he’d offered me a soft smile.
“Would it be better than the last guy you were with?”
I’d huffed out a laugh. “My memory hardly goes back that far, Sheriff.”
This was a lie. My memory of the last man I’d been with was crystal clear. I’d been back in Texas a couple of years ago, doing a favor for an old friend. She’d invited me to a party, where I’d met one of her coworkers.