Page 35

Chapter 35

New Beau

Isaiah

“ A re you sure it’s okay that I come on this trip?” I ask nervously as we grab our luggage from baggage claim.

“Stop asking me that,” Dell chuckles, his long golden hair flipping over his shoulder as he hauls his bag off the conveyor belt. It’s the only conveyor belt and honestly I’m surprised this itty-bitty airport even has one.

“Everyone knows you’re coming,” he reassures, throwing his arm around me as we walk to the doors for both arrivals and departures. “Honestly, if you turn back now, Gram will be very upset.”

“She would?”

He nods solemnly. “She’s very old and very frail, Isaiah. This might be her last birthday. You wouldn’t take away her joy of knowing I found someone special, would you?”

Oh. “Of course not.”

He leans in and presses a little kiss to my temple and my insides flip. “Good.”

As soon as we step outside into the muggy late afternoon air, a silver Mercedes-Benz G-wagon screeches to halt in front of us. A tall, thin woman with a long, perfectly curled ponytail comes out in a huff. “Get in,” she barks, flinging her arms around Dell and then me in rapid succession. “You must be Isaiah,” she says robotically, lifting both of our suitcases and throwing them haphazardly into the open trunk. “You’re very handsome.” It’s then that I can pick up her southern accent.

“Zay, this is my sister, Brook. What’s wrong with you?” Dell asks her in a bemused tone as we both hop in. “And where is Dad? I thought he was picking us up.”

The gas pedal is floored before we even click our seatbelts. “The Lockhart's cows got out and everyone’s trying to corral them.”

Dell laughs from the back seat and I turn to him. “Who are the Lockhart's?”

“Our neighbors. They have a small dairy farm about a mile down the road from us. How many cows got out?”

“All of them.”

“Jesus Christ. How do you feel about wranglin’ some cows, bud?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Dell smiles and brushes his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, glancing out of the window as farmland whizzes past. Soulful chestnut eyes flick back to mine. “There is.”

Thirty minutes later, I’m painfully aware of the difference between cowboys and city folk like myself. The funny thing is, I never really thought of myself as a city guy since I grew up in the suburbs, but compared to Dell and his family, yeah, I’m a city boy.

He’s out there chasing cows and throwing lassos, while I’ve been put in charge of standing by the property line fence. About every ten minutes, someone rides over to me with a wrangled cow or two, and it’s my job to walk them over to the enormous barn where Mrs. Lockhart then takes them. She’s nice, albeit a little annoyed at today’s fiasco.

As I walk a young heifer to the barn (after learning the difference between a cow and heifer) I gaze out on the pasture and spot Dell galloping along. Where he found a cowboy hat between the airport and now, I have no clue, but I don’t dwell on it because damn . He’s so… poised and confident. I mean he’s always confident, but there’s so mething about him riding a horse that’s doing something to me. The way his ass lifts up along with the horse’s trot; the way he’s gripping the horn of the saddle; the way I can hear him laugh from all the way over here. I want him to ride me like that.

Did I have a thing for cowboys before today? I don’t think so. Do I now? Definitely.

“Last two,” Dell calls, breaking me out of a sexy mind reel. He hops down from his white and brown mare and his dad follows suit. With that signature smile and knowing eyes, Dell hands me the reigns of his horse as we all walk to the stables.

“Hell of a way to meet you today, Isaiah,” his dad laughs, and I can finally register just how much Dell looks like his dad. He has the same dark blonde hair, cut shorter and barely peeking out from under his cowboy hat. “Thanks for helping out. I’m Reed, by the way,” he says, outstretching his hand. I shake it firmly.

“Nice to finally meet you. And it’s not a problem. How often does this happen?”

Dell and his dad share an amused look. “Too often.”

“Look who we found,” a low voice croons. I turn to find quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever seen, leading a calf by makeshift reins with a child riding on top. “This girl was eating her way through the neighbor’s garden,” he smiles.

“Hey hey,” Dell beams, momentarily letting go of his cow to hug this giant with dark skin and an easy grin. “Steven, great to see you, man.” Ah. His brother-in-law that he told me about on the plane ride here. He played basketball in college where he met Dell’s sister, Brook, and now he coaches at the University of Kentucky.

Then Dell hugs the small child with medium-dark skin sitting on top of the calf.

“Hi, Uncle Dell.”

“Hi, Liam! You’ re getting so big now.”

“Yeah,” he says, ducking his head and reaching for his father to pick him up.

“Aww, it’s okay, buddy,” Steven says.

We get to the stables with the last of the round up, and Mrs. Lockhart thanks us profusely before we head back down the road in Brook’s G-Wagon. When she slows down and pulls up to a gate to press a code into it, a wave of realization crashes over me.

Holy fucking shit. Dell’s family is rich. I’m not talking upper middle class—I’m talking wealthy.

Stepping out of the SUV, I gape as Dell chats up with his family, and we walk the pebbled stone path up to a goddamn palatial estate. I don’t know anything about architecture but it looks like a cross between old English style and… I don't know… Italian style? There’s ivy crawling over the brick facade and one of the many chimneys. Is this place a million square feet or something? From my experience working in landscaping in college, I have a rough idea of how much they’d have to shell out to just maintain this vast manicured lawn and garden.

As we approach the mansion, there’s a chorus of howling from beyond. Dell’s dad pushes open the enormous, arching double wood doors with decorative glass and we step onto a white and black checkered floor. Marble? Of course it’s marble. Just beyond the wide hallway and through another set of glass doors, there’s an inground pool with expensive lawn furniture symmetrically placed. Just past that is a freakin' fountain.

“You’re home!” a cheerful voice greets us over the howls. A slender woman with big, nearly white blonde hair goes right for Dell. His mom, Mary Ellen. Definitely. Then there's a stampede of basset hounds rounding the corner, their stubby little legs tripping over their own ears and rolls of floppy skin flying in the air.

“And you must be Isaiah,” Mary Ellen beams, ignoring the dogs who are actively trying to knock us over. That same smile of his that I’ve come to adore is on her face too, and the warmth of her welcome is sweet. She brings me in for a fierce hug that nearly chokes me. “Good, strong name. I like you already.”

I chuckle, “Thanks.”

Mercifully, she releases me before any more blood is restricted to my brain. I bend down to pet the slobbering, velvet love bugs, six in all.

Man, herds of cows and dogs? My brother Dane would be in heaven here.

Dell already has one of them lifted to his chest and the dog licks his face. “I missed you too, Mabel. Oh, such a good girl.”

“And who is this one?” I ask, the dog at my feet flopping to their back for belly rubs.

“That’s Ruby. She likes to eat rocks.”

“She’s getting better,” Mary Ellen says defensively, then eyes all of us from head to toe. “Y’all are filthy and I’m not talking about the dogs. Go’n upstairs and clean yourselves up before dinner.” She takes Liam’s hand. “Come with me, little man. I can see dirt under your fingernails.”

They take the grand, winding stairs first and Liam, who is apparently a lot more comfortable with his grandma says, “One of the calves was eating the green beans in the garden.”

“Well, that little girl has good taste. Boys,” she says, turning to find us following her up the stairs. “Y’all are in the south wing for this visit. Dell, the walls in your old bedroom are being refinished. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. Thanks.”

“And your bags are already in there for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Breaux.”

Finally reaching our bedroom, nay, suite, Dell closes the door with a grin.

I cross my arms. “Were you going to tell me you were loaded?”

“My family is loaded,” he shrugs.

“Can I ask how? Do you guys have a blood diamond mine or something?”

He chuckles while steering me into the ensuite bathroom. “Whiskey is our family business.”

“What brand?” I ask as he pulls off my black Henley that’s now covered in dust and animal hair.

“Castle Whiskey,” he says casually.

“Castle Whiskey?” I exclaim. “I have a bottle at home! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to see this exact look on your face when you found out.”

“We flew here in coach!”

“Yeah,” he says, craning his neck. “We’re not doing that on the way back.”

I huff out a sigh as he strips off the rest of our clothes and pushes me into yet another warm shower—a huge, stone shower with a glass door that makes absolutely no sound when it moves. That’s how you really know people are rich.

But this time my brain isn’t lost in a sexy post-jerk haze—it’s focused on the way he washes his body. Without showing off, he cleans himself like a man who’s comfortable and at peace.

Sudsy dirt and airplane grime trickle into the drain as we rinse off, and Dell reminds me to relax. Again.

Freshly showered, he’s looking so goddamn good in his jeans that hug his round ass and thighs like a second skin. He’s wearing a simple black T-shirt with his company logo on it, but it’s the belt and boots that are doing it for me.

When we’re ready, we make our way downstairs through the grandiose foyer, down another wide hallway lined with huge pieces of art and sculptures of horses, where almost everyone’s gathered, cocktails in hand, sitting in a parlor of sorts.

A freakin’ parlor covered in lazy basset hounds lounging on couches and rugs and in front of huge fireplaces.

“Do you drink whiskey, Isaiah?” Reed asks, taking a crystal tumbler from the shelf.

I clear my throat, “I do.”

“Here,” he grins with ease, handing me a glass of it poured over one large cube of clear ice. “This is our small batch Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell me what you taste,” he urges.

“Reed,” Mary Ellen chides.

“Now hold on,” he drawls. “Let the man talk.”

I sniff the familiar whiskey and take a sip. “Lemon. Vanilla. Caramel. Citrus.”

His brows furrow. “No pepper?”

“Oh, here we go,” Steven chuckles from his spot on the tufted leather sofa that looks like it costs more than every piece of furniture I own combined.

Reed harrumphs, “There should be notes of bl—”

“—black pepper,” everyone answers.

“Exactly!”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I’m not picking that up. But y’know, I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

Liam shuffles over to tug on Reed’s shirt and whispers, “Papa, dinner’s ready.”

“Say it louder so everyone can hear ya!” But Liam tucks himself behind his grandfather’s legs. Someone is painfully shy.

“Alright,” Reed smiles, picking up Liam in his arms to stride into the dining room next door. “You know, our son hasn’t brought home anyone in years, Isaiah.”

“Dad,” Dell warns.

“You must be pretty special,” he teases, and heat floods my face.

Thankfully I have a moment to collect myself when we all sit and Mary Ellen leads us in grace. But that moment is short-lived.

“Lord bless this meal that it may nourish our bodies and give us strength to honor your loving name. Thank you for this beautiful family you have blessed us with and for Dell’s new beau, Isaiah. May you bless their life together.”

Dell’s entire body shakes in silent laughter next to me.

“In your name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone repeats.

“So what do you do, Isaiah?” Mary Ellen beams, taking slices of brisket from a large platter in front of her as the nose of a basset pokes over the table top.

“I coach women’s professional rugby. And I used to play too.”

“Oh,” she drawls. “I didn’t know you used to be a woman. Or transitioned, rather.”

“No,” I chuckle. “I used to play men’s professional rugby.”

“Oh, well that’s nice, too. Brisket?”

I offer her my plate. “Please.”

“Our Steven here is also a head coach. Men’s basketball at the University of Kentucky. Very proud of him. Guess coaching runs in the family now,” she cheers.

“Liam, how’s the wife and kids?” Dell asks from beside me, pointing his fork to his five-year-old nephew with a sweet potato stuck to it.

He buries his head into Brook’s arm next to him, unable to respond. She gives a sympathetic shrug. “He’s really into musical instruments right now.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, taking my plate back from Mary Ellen and adding some cornbread to it. “Do you know what an electric bass guitar is?” He nods excitedly. “That’s the instrument I play.”

“Oh yeah?” Dell asks beside me.

“I can play the piano,” Liam says, surprising everyone. “ And the drums and the wookawawee.”

“Ukulele,” Steven clarifies. “He’s working on that one.”

“You can play all of those instruments?” I ask, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah! Can I show you? Can you come over to my house?”

“Sure,” I laugh. “I’d love that. You must be a really good musician like my brother, Jonah. He can play all the instruments.”

Liam’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “He can?”

“Mhm. He has the ear for it.”

“I have two ears!”

Suddenly there’s a strong, warm hand wrapping around my knee and I turn to find Dell’s dark brown eyes gleaming. The conversation around us breaks off into various tangents, and he leans into me. “I’ve been trying to get that boy to talk to me like that for years.”

“Really?”

“You should feel proud.”

“How can I not be?” I smirk. “I’m your new beau, remember?” He laughs quietly to himself, and before he can lean back into his chair, I add one more thing. “Also, I love how your accent comes back when you’re around them. Think you could turn it up a notch for me later?”

He leans back, pops a sweet potato in his mouth, and gives me a wink.