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“For Tate, it’s his grandfather and the whole business of Sullivan Enterprises. They’re not only getting Sweet River Ranch back on its feet, but they’re running their entire empire from here. Graham — Tate’s cousin — went back to Chicago a couple of days ago for a family wedding on his mom’s side, so his grandfather also asked him to handle something that came up there with one of their hotel chains.” Stephanie shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m married to someone who has multiple hotel chains.”

“At least his grandfather didn’t send Tate.”

“If he did, Jamie and I would go along. Then maybe I’d see why he loves it there so much.”

Harper’s finely plucked eyebrows rose. “Do you think he prefers Chicago? I mean, I get that. I didn’t think I could handle a small town after a lifetime of Atlanta, but it has totally grown on me. At least, now that it isn’t winter anymore.”

Stephanie chuckled as she remembered Harper freaking out over her first few snowfalls. “Tate has only been to Jewel Lake a handful of times, usually for church on Sundays, and then we have dinner with my parents. So, I imagine his culture shock is even greater than yours was. Except for the snow.”

“Hard to imagine.”

Stephanie forced a chuckle. Would Chicago win in the end? And if it did, could she truly uproot everything? Yes, she’d promised to love Tate as long as they both lived, but that would be a big ask, and one he’d already hinted at.

Time would tell.

Chapter Nineteen

Had he been too forceful? Maybe Stephanie really wanted to have Sunday dinner with her parents after church as they usually did, but she’d dropped by to see them Friday, so hopefully it was okay that he’d come up with a different plan.

Tate settled Jamie for his nap and thanked Kaci Moore, who’d agreed to watch the sleeping toddler. Then he helped a quiet Stephanie onto the golf cart and whisked them over to the stable.

“Your horses are ready.” Weston eyed the two of them with an inscrutable gaze. “Text me when you get back, and I’ll take care of them.”

“Show us how. Maybe next time, we can do it ourselves.” They lived on a ranch, after all. Shouldn’t they make riding a regular activity? Enjoy it, even? One thing was sure, the views along the trails made the effort worthwhile.

“Maybe.” Weston didn’t look convinced that Tate could be taught. Just because he was a city kid… okay, and a wealthy one… didn’t mean he couldn’t learn how to do messy things with his hands. “If you stay on the trail, you should have no trouble.”

“It’s clearly marked, isn’t it?” Stephanie sounded anxious as she swung up on Mirage.

A smirk toyed around Weston’s mouth. “Very clearly. There are too many greenhorns in these parts to leave anything to chance.”

“Thanks, then.” Tate couldn’t love this guy with his condescending attitude. Cousins, indeed. Not that Tate doubted the DNA results but, seriously, Grandfather? How could he have? What a bombshell to explode on the family.

Weston tucked his thumbs behind his belt loops and watched as Tate mounted Geronimo. “You two might want to invest in appropriate footwear. Cowboy boots don’t just look cool. They’re shaped for the stirrup.”

Cowboy boots looked cool? Tate bit back a retort. They looked like they were trying too hard, that’s what. How could footwear that narrow, with pointy toes, no less, be comfortable? And then there was the elaborate stitching on the sides of Weston’s, usually hidden beneath his bootcut jeans.

Weston angled his eyebrows up and adjusted his cowboy hat.

“I’ll look into it. Thanks for the tip.” Tate nudged Geronimo into a walk, and Stephanie on Mirage fell into step beside him.

Stephanie glanced over her shoulder as they rounded the first curve in the trail and the stables disappeared from sight. “You’d look cute in a cowboy hat.”

He blinked and turned toward her. “A what?”

“You know. A Stetson.” She patted her hair. “Maybe I would, too.”

First boots, now a hat? And not only the guy who was apparently his long-lost cousin, but now his wife? “You think?”

“Sure. We live on a ranch. We should look the part to the guests.”

He couldn’t read the look on her face. “I work in the office. It’s not like I need to keep the sun off my face.” Or his feet in the stirrups.

She shot him a sardonic grin. “There’s after-hours, too.”

Okay, she was digging at him. She had to be, since the topic of his long hours had not gone away. “Not as many of those as I would like.” He said the words lightly and patted his horse’s neck. Nothing good could come of rehashing the same issue time after time. “Think we’ll get a storm later?” He pointed at the small, puffy cloud in the western sky.

Stephanie’s eyebrows shot up. “From that?”