“I was hungry,” the little boy sad.
“Not hungry enough to starve to death.” She smiled at him and straightened. “Now, go say hi to Trey and then make sure the dogs have water in their bowls on the back patio.”
TJ came skipping over to Trey, and he bent down to scoop the wisp of a boy into his arms. “Hi, Trey,” he said.
“Hi yourself, TJ.” He smiled at the little boy. “I’m glad you’re not in trouble anymore.”
“Me too.”
Trey set him back down. “You better get those dogs watered, though. Animals need fresh water.”
“Do you water animals, Trey?”
“All the time.” He glanced at Beth, who was looking at her phone, and went with TJ as he walked outside to the patio. He brought up the first bowl and skipped back down to get another.
Trey held them for him, and when they had all four, he turned back to the house. Voices met his ears, and he slowed. “…I might not be ready.”
“It’s been almost three years, Beth,” a man said, and Trey assumed that to be her father.
“I knowexactlyhow long it’s been since my husband died,” Beth said, her voice dripping with acid.
A sigh filled the air. “If you’re not ready, don’t go out with him,” her dad said.
“I can’t just blow him off.”
“Sure you can. You just say you aren’t feeling well. Your hand hurts. Whatever. You can’t go.”
Trey didn’t want to hear another word. He entered the house with the dog bowls, his pulse storming inside his chest. Did she not want to go out with him, because it was him asking? Was she really going to cancel because she wasn’t ready and not for some other reason?
Thankfully, Beth and her father had fallen silent the moment Trey had come inside.
“We just wash these out, or…?” He looked at TJ, and he would miss the little boy. He’d likely wander onto Bluegrass Ranch at some point in the future, and Trey might have the opportunity to see Beth from time to time.
“Yep,” TJ said. “Fill ‘em up and put ‘em back out. You don’t got dogs at your ranch?”
“Sure,” he said. “We’ve got dogs. But we’re not a cattle ranch, buddy. We raise horses, and they don’t need to be herded by dogs.”
“You have those sheep,” TJ said. “Dogs like to herd sheep.”
Trey chuckled. “That they do.” He finished washing and rinsing the bowls and started to fill them. “It would be easier to take these back outside and then fill them.”
He handed one bowl to TJ. “Take this one, bud.”
TJ did as instructed, and Trey brought out the rest of the bowls. “Be right back. Don’t wander off now.”
“Yes, sir,” TJ said, gazing at something in the distance. Trey went back inside and found a large bowl in the drying rack. He filled it with water and made the trip outside. It filled two of the bowls, and Trey returned to refill the bowl.
Tam and her father certainly looked like he’d interrupted them, and Trey wanted to whip out his pocketknife and literally cut the tension and apprehension right out of the air.
“You must be Clyde,” Trey said, smiling at the older gentleman. “I’m Trey Chappell.” He glanced at Beth, who should’ve made this introduction. She seemed so out of it tonight. He shook her father’s hand, and hoped he passed the test when Clyde looked him up and down.
“Chappell? Is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Trey said. “We’re right next door.”
“I’m Clyde Turner. You have a beautiful ranch.”
“Thank you,” Trey said. “I’ll tell Spur you said so.” He turned to Beth, who just stood there staring at him. “I think I’m going to go,” Trey said. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”