Page 44 of Stables Spurs Suits
Nial shoots a hand into the air.
“It was my idea, you’re welcome, bestest brother award remains intact,” he laughs.
Alan gasps. “No way, that’s not fair. I traveled the furthest just for his birthday, I should be the bestest brother,” he complains, and Sally-May shakes her head in disapproval.
“It was a group effort,” she says, and everyone waits for Dean to sit at the head of the table in the biggest chair we could find. Nial got this wild idea to make Dean sit on a throne for his birthday, and the high-backed, ornately carved mahogany piece was just sitting in one of the unused rooms upstairs in the main house. The thing weighed as much as a horse too. I helped carry it down before we joined Atlas in spreading the last of the crushed quartz for the new trail.
As soon as he’s seated, we all find our seats. Atlas stands between two up at the end and makes eyes at me like he wants me to sit beside him. At least that’s what I hope he’s doing, because my feet already have me halfway to him.
“Is this seat open?” I ask him.
“Sure is, take a seat,” he says, and I almost fucking swoon when he pulls out the chair for me, tipping his hat just a little, and throwing me a wink from under it.
I scan the table, hoping no one is watching me because my cheeks are on fire. I quickly down a glass of water as he takes the seat beside me.
“Good work today,” he says, nudging my leg with his, and just like before, he doesn’t move it away.
“It was great getting everyone out there to help. I just wish it was still light so Dean could have taken the first ride down it for his birthday,” I reply, and he scrunches up his nose in an adorable way, shaking his head.
“We should make sure it’s perfect before anyone else heads down it. Will you be back in the morning?”
“You want me to ride it with you?”
“Sure, you helped put it all together.”
“Can I take Loki?”
His eyes soften, but I can totally feel a no coming.
“He’s been doing really well, and I know you have this bond with him that, well, even surprised me, but I just don’t think he’d let you saddle him, let alone get on afterwards.”
“We’ve been practicing.”
“You’ve saddled Loki?” he asks, and my smile spreads across my face, but before I can fill him in on all the things I’ve been working on with Loki, Preston clinks his glass from the end of the table with Dean, and all attention shifts to him.
“I want to thank all of you for being here tonight to celebrate my second favorite person in the entire world,” he says, and his daughter Poppy is smiling and nodding beside him knowing she’ll always be his first. Not that Dean would ever ask for it to be any other way. “Will family, old friends, and new ones, all please raise a glass to the most generous, kind-hearted cowboy, my fiancé, and soon-to-be husband, Dean. Happy birthday. I love you.”
Everyone raises their glasses.
“To Dean,” we cheer, and I take a sip as Dean stands and gives Preston a short, sweet kiss.
Gramps claps his hands together three times. “Let’s eat,” he says, and Sally-May lifts the lid from the first covered dish and puts a piece of chicken onto Perry’s plate. Just like before, it’s the signal to dig in, and everyone reaches across the table, uncovering dish after dish, sending flavored steam billowing up and surrounding us in its deliciousness. My stomach grumbles, and I reach for the spoon resting in the baked potatoes.
Atlas reaches for it at the same time, and my hand closes over his instead of the spoon. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the way my body vibrates whenever we touch.
“Sorry, you go,” I say, pulling my hand back.
He reaches over with his free hand and picks up my plate.
“Here you go,” he says, scooping a large spoonful onto my plate before doing the same with his own. “What’s next?”
“Whatever you want,” I say, and his lips pick up on one side in that cheeky smirk of his, and my heart flutters.
“Really?”
I chuckle and lean in to whisper, “I meant from the table. But I’d love to explore where your mind just went after dinner.”
I lean back, and his cheeks are flushed with a warm, rosy glow.
