Page 86 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Has Theo Bishop always looked that delicious?” Brynn asks, scooting up beside me as she twirls a strand of her light brown hair in between her fingers. Mind you, her fiancé is standing a mere ten feet away from him.

“I think it might just be the blue wranglers tight around his ass and the cowboy hat that make me want to toss him on the dining table to feast on.”

“Billie Cole,” Monroe shouts, slapping our friend on the arm. “Mind your manners. That's my brother.”

Billie shrugs her shoulders, waving Monroe off like it means nothing. “Like I said before, and I'll say it again, it’s unfair that all the gorgeous men in this town are related to y’all. Besides, I’m not the one sharing more than just a bed with one of them. Oh, but hearing Theo’s voice sing his new song,Carolina, does something to me.”

Brynn slaps me on the arm. “I knew it!” she shrieks, forcing all the eyes in the room to shoot our way. She takes that as a sign to lower her voice, leaning forward and whispering for only the four of us to hear. “You’re sleeping with Nash, aren't you?”

“Keep your voice down, Brynn. I swear to God I could murder you girls right now.” They all giggle like schoolgirls, gossiping about the boy I like as they stare at the four gorgeous men who don’t have a clue what we’re currently discussing.

Ignoring them, I head toward where my father is, meeting his gaze as I stand before him. “Dinner’s ready,” I announce before shifting my eyes over to Nash, who watches me quizzically beneath thick dark lashes, the glass of bourbon teasing his lips.

In a matter of minutes, we all gather around the large, mahogany wooden dining table my brother Camden built, which extends out from the original set for eight, to accommodate the seventeen people gathered around. My father takes his spot at the head of the table, my mama to his right followed by my Nana, Camden, Holly, Tommy, Brynn, Jase and I. To my father’s left sits Mr. Cole, Mrs. Cole, Monty, Beau, Theo, Billie, Monroe, and Nash.

The southern comfort atmosphere of my parent’s home isn’t like something you’d expect out of the large plantation style property. There’s a warmth and familiarity in my mama’s style of decor that gives the space character without being overly antiquated. It’s the reason this place has always felt like home, even if I rarely step foot here anymore.

“Before we begin,” my mama says as everyone takes their seats. “Let us say grace.” One by one, each guest bows their head as my mama speaks. “Thanks be to God, for bringing us all together on this marvelous holiday where we give thanks to the Lord and celebrate all he has blessed us with. For the delicious bountiful gifts of food on our tables, family in our home and toour guests who have blessed us with their presence here today. Through Christ our Lord…”

“Amen.”

“Well, now,” Nana says, reaching for the bowl of cornbread stuffing, “Let us eat.”

My eyes meet Nash’s as he sits across from me at the end of the table. “Fuck me,” he mouths and I all but burst out in a fit of giggles. With a hand over my mouth, I try my best to compose myself, gaining a side eye from nearly everyone in attendance.

Except for Billie, who eyes me with a knowing smile.

My heart races as I watch Nash take his bottom lip in between his teeth. Billie notices and slides a glass of wine my way. I take it, bringing it to my lips for a quick sip before setting it back down. Though, as Nash smiles up at me, his eyes brimming with curiosity and mischief, I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot more wine to keep me.

For the next hour, we all fit into comfortable conversations, devouring every single bit of food set before us.

“So, Monty,” my father says, cutting off the loud conversations occurring throughout the room. “Now that Franklin has left us, what are your plans for your family ranch? It’s a very sought after property. Good land, a prominent location, not to mention I hear the renovations you’ve completed have surely made the place unrecognizable.”

The room grows thick with tension as Monty clears his throat. I can almost feel the anger radiating off Nash as he glares at my father while his brothers do their best to hide their discomfort. Meanwhile, I sit gawking toward him with utter mortification at his tactless inquiry.

“Bismarck, sweetheart. You can’t just talk about the man that way, regardless of if he's no longer with us. Monty dear, what my husband means is are you going to sell the ranch or keep it in thefamily? You know, since your brothers don’t live in town and you and Monroe have your own place.”

“With all due respect, Mayor King,” Nash begins, but he’s cut off by Monty.

“We haven’t quite spoken with this still being very recent. But the plan is to sell. It was our initial plan before Franklin’s death, to make the necessary renovation to put the house on the market. Now that he’s no longer with us, our plans haven’t quite changed.”

“None of us have any sentimental ties to the place.” This comes from Theo, who, regardless of his celebrity persona, is rather quiet and has kept to himself most of the night.

“Well, I’m sure you're well aware that Franklin ran up some debts in recent years, particularly. He owes a lot of money to some not so nice individuals. I think it’s in your best interest to forgo the property before someone tries to come and collect what they’re owed.”

“No one will be collecting anything from us,” Nash blurts out, his tone clear and steady. “Franklin’s debts are buried six feet under alongside the bastard.” There’s an audible gasp, this one coming from my mama, whose hand rests against her chest in disbelief.

“Nash,” Monty warns, but there’s really nothing that can stop him.

“You may think that, son, but the bank has a right to collect?—”

Nash doesn’t allow my father to continue. “They can try, but they have no right because there is nothing left that belongs to him.”

“What are you talking about?” Beau asks, equally confused as everyone else in the room.

A knowing smile creeps onto Nash’s lips and I feel almost proud of how calm and composed he remains. “As of two weeks ago, The Bishop Ranch belongs to Montgomery Bishop.”

“That can’t be,” my father says, shock clear in his rueful expression.

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