At the same time, King walks in the front door. Natalie ignores my question and heads straight over to my brother, her husband. "I'm sorry, King. I had no idea. I invited someone to dinner."
He doesn't even act like she said anything. He leans down and presses his mouth to hers. I look away and roll my eyes. It's always been touchy-feely with them, and they don’t care who’s in the room. King pulls back with his hands on Nat's shoulder. “It’s okay. Pauline won’t mind. She always makes extra.”
Natalie still looks worried. “No, it’s not like that.”
King looks at her patiently; meanwhile, I’m about to come unglued if I don’t get answers soon. King just smiles at her. "What do you mean, baby?"
Nat starts to ramble quickly, "He asked her out, and she was going to say no, and I know that she needs to get out and have some fun, so I pressured her into going out with him. I told her that they should just eat here, but then I guess she knew that wasn't a good idea, so she's going out with him instead. But I had no idea who he was."
I grit my teeth and come over to stand next to them. "Who? Who is she going out with?"
Nat answers me, but she's looking at King the whole entire time. She scrunches up her nose. "Brent McCoy."
I shake my head. I'm sure that I misheard what she just said. "Wait, Nat. Are you serious? Mia is going out with a McCoy?"
Finally, she looks over at me. "Yes, Brent McCoy."
"Son of a bitch," I mutter, and King immediately gets on to me. "Hey!"
I hold my hands up and shake them in front of me. "I know. I know. Eli is out at the barn, though." I stalk off down the hallway toward Mia's room. I knock once and don't even wait for her to say come in before I'm in the door and shutting it behind me. Mia is looking at herself in the mirror. She's already changed clothes and is wearing a dress that sits right above her knees and a new pair of cowboy boots. Her newly cut hair is in waves across her shoulders, and I don't know what she's done to her face, but her eyes and lips are looking at me expressively in the mirror. "You're not going out with Brent," I say.
She laughs when she turns to me. "Yes, I am. I've been friends with Brent for years, Ryan. He's back in town and asked me to dinner. Why wouldn't I go?"
"Because you work for me... the Bryants. You work for the Double B Ranch. That's why."
She shrugs her shoulders like it's not that big of a deal. "You know that Brent is not to blame for something that happened 50 years ago, right? I mean, it all worked out. You have your land, they have theirs.” She stops like everything she just said makes perfect sense and I should agree. When I start to shake my head, she asks me in a cool, tempered voice, “So let me ask you this. If I go, are you telling me that I'm fired, that I’ll lose my job here?"
She’s staring at me across the space of the room. I walk toward her and don’t stop until we're an arm's length apart. It would be so easy to reach out and put my hands on her shoulders, but instead I shove my hands in the front of my pockets. A part of me wants to tell her yes, that under no circumstances can she go. She may listen, too, but I know she’d hate me for it. "No, you always have a job here, Mia. You know that."
She nods her head once, and I can see the relief in her eyes. "Okay, well I'm going to dinner with him. It's not like we're getting married or anything. It’s one date, and really, it’s not even a date. We’re friends."
I blanch when she says the word married. I don't know why this is hitting me so hard, but it is. "Look," I stutter, "what I said earlier, that doesn't mean you need to do this." She looks like she's embarrassed when she stares back at me. She opens her mouth, closes it again, and I ask her, "What? Say it. You can say anything to me.”
She swallows and lifts her chin. "I had no idea that everyone here at the ranch knew how I felt about you."
I stumble back on my feet. What is she talking about?
But before I can ask, she continues to talk. "I mean, I didn't know everyone knew I had a crush on you. I can imagine how that made you feel. I'm sorry, but you're right. I know you apologized for what you said, but I'm thinking it's something that I needed to hear. I'm 21 years old, and I act like I'm 50. I need to take better care of myself and go out and have fun. So yeah, even though I don't appreciate the way it was done, I needed to hear it anyway."
"I don't... I didn't—" I start, but she holds her hand up.
"It's fine, Ryan. I promise. I've always thought of you as a friend, and I don't want to lose that. I don't want there to be anything weird between us." She points back and forth between the two of us. Before I can say anything, there's a knock at the door, and Mia answers softly, "Come on in."
Nat comes to the door and looks between Mia and me. She still has that worried look on her face, and I’m sure mine matches hers. "Uh, Brent is here."
Mia grabs her purse and phone and starts to walk out. I put my hand out and grab her wrist to stop her. She stops and looks down where my hand is resting on her arm. "Mia," I start.
She shakes her head and looks at me almost painfully. "It's all right, Ryan. I promise you and I are fine." She pulls her arm from mine and walks out the door, and I stand in her room completely stumped.
I want to go stop her. I don't know what this urgent need inside of me is, but I don't want to even think about her going on a date with someone else, and what does she even mean that she had a crush on me? I never knew she had a crush on me or even thought of me that way, but the longer I stand here, the more I know I can't let this happen. I need to talk to her. I all but run from the room and out the door, but already they're gone. Standing on the front porch of the Bryant home, all I see is a trail of dust as Brent McCoy drives off with Mia in the passenger seat of his big F450 truck. Fuck, what am I going to do?
Chapter 8
Mia
"Are you sure everything's all right?" Brent asks me for probably the fifth time. We drove into Whiskey Valley. After a drive around downtown, we stopped at Buster's Steak House for dinner. It's one of the only places that you can get a really good steak. Dinner was good, and we talked easily enough, but I kept fading in and out, thinking about Ryan. I want to slap myself on the head. Why do I do this to myself?
"Yes, I'm fine. I promise," I tell Brent.