Page 93 of Long Time Coming

I turned out alright, if you ask my closest friends. Enemies will always say shit.

This is not the first time I’ve thought about moving back, but I’m the closest I’ve ever been to seriously considering it. Pris and I have a lot to discuss, which I hope to do if I can sneak away for a bit.

Setting the small case down at his side, he asks, “Got any other plans? Going to see some friends?”

Since neither of us is rushing inside, I set my case down as well. We stand side by side, crossing our arms over our chest, looking more like each other every day. “Thought I’d look at painting the house.”

His gaze travels over to the house and studies it as if he hadn’t noticed the peeling paint. I know he has, but his pride won’t let him admit he’s no longer up for the task. Or shouldn’t be if I can keep him off ladders. “Looking at it isn’t going to get the job done.”

Chuckling, I say, “I plan on getting it done if you’re up for being a foreman over the site.” Justin Grange is an old-time cowboy. Fifth generation that we can account for. Just like his dad did for him, he taught us three things to live by: Talk is cheap and should be kept to a minimum, putting in the work is required whether working hard on a farm or on your marriage, and feeling useful gives us a purpose. I also just want to spend time with my dad.

Without making a big deal about it, he says, “I suppose I can fit that into my schedule. When are you starting?”

“Tomorrow. I want to take Mom to pick out a color, and I’ll get the supplies to bring back with me. Power wash it and then start the day after that.”

“It will look good with a fresh coat.” Reaching over, he squeezes my shoulder. “I reckon that will work for my schedule.”

Picking up the cases, we start for the house. I peek over at him, seeing the smile he can’t wipe from his face, and ask, “Are the fish biting?”

“They have been the past few naps.” He laughs and heads to the house. “We’re good with watching Beckett and getting him to bed if you want to go see those friends tonight.”

My mom knows.She’s good but subtle and probably knew how I felt about Pris before I did. She’s in tune with her family. She also told my dad. He’s not as subtle. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get inside. I got Beckett his first cowboy hat. Thought it was time.” His sentimental side is showing. Being a grandpa looks good on him.

“He’ll love it.” I follow him inside, glad I don’t have to hide my girlfriend anymore. As for Beck, I still need to have that conversation with him.

I take Dad’s truck because it beats driving the rental and pull onto Greene property. Pris knew I was coming in today, yet she didn’t pressure me to come see her. She knows time with my parents is important and doesn’t want to take that away from me. But I’ve waited weeks to see her again and hold her in my arms. Waiting another hour wasn’t going to happen.

The sun has decided it’s tired, hanging lower in the sky and showering the fields in a golden hue. Other than my girl, no prettier sight in the world tops it.

Mr. Greene stands from his chair on the porch and moves to the railing to rest his weight against it. “I’m seeing ya enough to think you have business out here other than ranching.”

I walk closer, keeping my feet on the ground and giving him the upper hand in perspective. Not sure this charade is going to work much longer. Most people have too much time on their hands to miss the connections others make. My gut tells me he has suspicions. “I was looking for Pris.”

“Figured as much.” He shields his eyes and scans as far as he can see. “No sign of her yet for the night. Horses are in the stable, or you can take the UTV. Can’t give you more than that. She could be anywhere.”

I’m not dressed for riding since I didn’t change clothes before I left. Wearing my clothes from New York makes no sense anymore when I’m slowly building the wardrobe here. I’m not having a business meeting, so maybe I need to start dressing more comfortably when I travel here.

I choose the UTV to find her. Before I start it up, Mr. Greene says, “Not sure what your intentions are, Tagger, but my daughter deserves a good man in her life.”

I don’t know if he’s warning me or I just got his stamp of approval, but he’s already returned to the rocking chair he was previously occupying, so I can’t ask. Would I accept the answer if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear? I may be uncertain about a few things in my life, but Pris isn’t one of them. I want her dad’s approval, but I’m not walking away if he doesn’t give it.

Taking the corner, I cut across behind the cornfield and in front of the equipment barn before scoping out the lower pasture. It’s not until I take the long way around to the far end on the southeast side of the property heading toward the peach orchard that I see her and Sunrise.

Walking on foot, she leads Sunrise by the reins across the front of acres of blooming fruit trees. I cut the engine so I don’t disturb them. But having a moment to watch her in these surroundings she calls home makes me realize I can’t ask her to leave. It’s not a deciding factor for me, and I would never want her to leave a place she loves so much.

I start to walk along a path worn through the grass toward her. Catching the rays of the golden hour shining through strands of her hair makes it as vibrant as the sun. It’s so much redder than I ever thought. Wearing boots on her denim-clad legs, a black tank that hugs her curves, and a black hat that I recognize instantly, she’s spectacular like her surroundings.

When she catches me, she stops and puts a hand on her hip. She’s not annoyed, but she sure does love to give me a hard time. I love it, too. I love her mouthiness and strength, her killer body, and the quirky way her mind works sometimes.

I fucking love everything about her.

I stop about ten feet back or so. “Nice hat.”

She laughs and pushes it up on her forehead. “This old thing?”

As much as I love it when she runs into my arms, a sense of peace comes with the slower pace of this hello. “Heard you were out here somewhere on the ranch.”

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