Page 92 of Grasp The Moment

“Of course I’m excited! One full week in Texas with the fam, what could possibly go wrong?”

I can hear Cleo’s grimace from a mile away as she chimes in, “Girl, the last time I asked myself that I ended up finding out that my one-night stand was actually the captain of my dad’s hockey team.”

Sienna is next, chuckling as she adds, “I think the last time I asked myself that I ended up being ‘fired’ from work and found out Jace was my new boss.”

Georgia lets out a horrified squeal, looking between her friends. “What about you, Castillo?”

Denver chuckles. “I don’t think that I’ll ever ask that question,ever.”

Georgia and the girls each laugh at her response before sharing quick goodbyes and hanging up the phone. The instant the call ends, Georgia turns to the back seat, her eyes bright as she and Delilah lock eyes. Delilah begins giggling at the face Georgia makes for her. Georgia’s own laughter rings throughout the car, and when she looks at me, that smile, clear in her eyes, makes my heart swell.

Thisis all I could’ve ever asked for right here—both of my girls in one place, laughing their hearts away.

Georgia Marie Adams looks like a fish out of water as she stands on my family's ranch, dressed in vintage designer clothing and her favorite oversized sunglasses. She pouts, her hands on her hips as she takes a look around before prancing over to me.

She looks like a cute doll; her hair is perfectly done in her signature blowout. Chuckling, I place a chaste kiss on her temple as she grins at me. “I was promised a tour, if I remember last night correctly, Mr. Perez.”

My mind travels back to the night before. Georgia lay on my chest, her fingers circling the tattoos splattered across my pecks and torso while we discussed our week-long vacation in Texas for spring break.

The entire time we talked—or should I say she talked—the only thing I could think about was how right it felt for us to lie there with her in my arms. I can barely remember if she told me what she wanted to do while here or if we talked about the weather.

She narrows her eyes at me, her gaze assessing before she groans, “You owe me a tour of the grounds and a margarita for forgetting we talked last night.”

I nod, chuckling lightly as I press two more kisses to her forehead. “I’ll throw in some cupcakes to the deal too.”

We leave Delilah with my mother in the main house. I’m careful not to let Georgia see any of the house before we begin the tour, and hop on one of the golf carts, driving it to the front gate.

When we stop directly outside of the gate, the sun begins to set behind the clouds, illuminating the gate’s words. My skin warms as the words “Apolonia Ranch” read back at me. I hop out of the golf cart to get a better look at the sign as Georgia follows behind. I feel at home the second she grabs ahold of my hand, standing under my family's gate.

“My great-grandfather, Silvano, started the ranch when he immigrated from Jalisco to Texas. His papá was a charro, and he was a mean one—a charro is what you would call a horseman, not necessarily a cowboy, but similar. Tata and Nana were pregnant with Tío?1 Juan when they immigrated to America to escape the Mexican Revolution,” I say, peering down at her from the corner of my eyes.

Georgia’s gaze is transfixed on the gate, her eyes dazzling as the sun sets.

“Who’s Apolonia?” she asks, her voice breathy as she points to the name of the ranch, her finger lingering on the small apple welded into the gate.

My smile feels warm as pride sears through. “That would be my nana. She died at one hundred and two a few years ago. She would’ve loved you; she was obsessed with clothes and getting pretty. Anyway, my Tata’s goal was to open his own ranch and to bring a new light to the charreria world here in Houston. He and his family of immigrants paved the way for many, and we still give back to our community. My older cousins Emiliano, Miguel, and Soledad still run the ranch with my abuelita?2, Dolores—you’ll meet Lita in a few, that’s what us grandkids call her.”

She gives me a wide-eyed grin; her eyes the size of saucers as she claps. “I can’t wait to meet everyone. What are we waiting for? Take me to your family!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes as I chuckle.

“Not yet, darlin’... I have a few other places to show you first.”

Georgia and I ride throughout the grounds with her pointing at everything and questioning what it is. It takesme about five minutes to get her to stop asking about the small chicken coop near the main house before we can continue on with our tour. I take her around the pool, and we spend a few minutes staring out at the large man-made body of water before going past the tennis and basketball courts. It takes us about five to six more minutes before we finally reach the place that I’ve been buzzing to show her since we arrived.

She gasps like a little kid on Christmas, hopping out of the golf cart before I can safely park it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Georgia exclaims, excitement riddling her tone as she runs toward the large stable. She twirls around the front of the doors, her hair blowing in the wind as she giggles, “When I mocked you all those months ago—I knew I was right. You’re megawatt rich, Derek. Only rich people have horses!”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “No, myfamilyis rich. I’m me.”

“Says the man who has aninheritance. All my dad left me was daddy issues.” She huffs before sashaying into the stable.

I’m not paying attention as I follow her, and when she comes to a halt in the middle of the stable, I walk straight into her back.

“What’s going on?—”

A gruff voice cuts me off, and my ears buzz. “Well, I’ll be damned if it isn’t the best goalie in the United States,” my older cousin Emiliano drawls, his voice thick with that southern twang.

My face hurts from smiling as he pulls me into a hug, patting my back. Emiliano is like a dark horse; he’s competitive and quiet, yet always there for you when you need him. It’s been over a year since we last saw one another and two years since his life changed drastically.