Perfect Summer by Bethany Lopez
Mitch
There was nothing like a cold beer after a long day of hard work. Manual labor was satisfying in an elemental way, but when I got home, showered, and had a nice cold one, I was able to sit back with contentment and enjoy the night.
Owning my own painting business had sort of just happened.
I’d started out helping people when they were fixing up their place, and eventually anytime anyone was putting together a crew to paint, I was the first person they’d call.
My mom had actually been the one to suggest I turn it into something bigger than a side hustle and she’d invested in me by giving me startup money. It had worked out so well, I’d been able to pay her back in my second year and had since turned it into a lucrative business.
I had a couple guys who helped me out when I needed it, but I was always in the mix getting my hands dirty.
I took my beer out onto the small porch of my cabin. Well, Wilder’s cabin. His family-owned Roman Wilde Ranch and surrounding property were so vast, he’d had cabins built to rent out and make some extra money. I was the only long-term renter, but his other cabins were usually booked.
Easing back onto the rocking chair, I looked out over Wilder’s land and imagined what it would be like to own a house and some land of my own one day.
I’ll get there.
The sound of a truck coming up the road that led to the cabin had me glancing in that direction and I grinned when I saw it was Wilder.
He was my best friend. Which was why even though he’d been working his ass off on the ranch all day, he was answering my earlier call and coming to have a beer and talk over my run-in with Faith.
“Got one of those for me?” he asked, nodding at my beer as he ambled toward my porch.
“Sure do,” I said, getting up from my chair.
If it had been anyone else, I would have told them to go help themselves, but as exhausted as I was, I knew Wilder had probably been up for about sixteen hours already.
“Take a load off and I’ll grab it,” I said, gesturing to the other chair.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Wilder said, his white teeth flashing in contrast to his dark beard.
A couple seconds later I was back, handing him his beer and settling back into my seat.
“God, this is beautiful,” I murmured as the sun began to go down.
“Yes, Montana is definitely God’s country,” Wilder agreed.
“I was speaking specifically about your piece of Montana, but, yes, she is awe-inspiring.”
Wilder chuckled and tossed back some beer.
“Well, I know we could sit here and talk about our love for our great state all night, but I seem to remember a phone call this morning about a certain blonde beauty queen…”
I sighed and shook my head.
“I saw her through the window of Java Jitters and thought, enough is enough. I went inside to finally have it out, but when she turned around, I was speechless. How the hell did she get more beautiful?”
“So, what’d you do?”
“Turned around and walked out,” I admitted with a dry laugh.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Faith followed me,” I told him, and his eyes widened.
“Really?” he asked, the side of his mouth quirking up. “How’d that go?”
“She apologized, I told her it was water under the bridge, and I got out of there as fast as I could,” I said with a shake of my head. “I just couldn’t handle it, you know? Her standing in front of me, looking gorgeous and as if she hadn’t left me twelve years ago without a word. She said she wanted things to be amicable, if you can believe that.”
“And you agreed?”
“Yup.”
“You didn’t tell her how you felt when she left? How much she hurt you and how her leaving has made it difficult for you to trust women? That you haven’t had a serious relationship since?”
“Well, no, obviously not,” I replied, pausing to finish my beer. “It was only a few minutes and it’s not like I was going to spill my guts in front of Java Jitters with all eyes and ears on us. It wasn’t the right time.”
“You know you need to do it though, right? Have a serious conversation with her, so you can move on.”
Sometimes Wilder was annoying.
I sighed. “I guess. But, you know, she has a little girl, so apparently she didn’t have the same problems dealing with the breakup as I did.”
“There’s been some chatter about that,” Wilder said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing over at him.
“I’m not one for gossip, but apparently her marriage wasn’t a good one. That’s all I know, but maybe when you do have that talk, give her the chance to share her side and listen. Not just to what she says, but what she doesn’t.”
“Okay, Obi-Wan,” I joked, even though my mind was spinning with this new information.
“Well, thanks for the beer,” Wilder said as he stood. “I’ve got an early morning, so I’d better head out. Call if you need anything.”
“Wanna hit Pony Up Friday night?” I asked. We often went to the bar on weekends to let off some steam and hang with friends.
“Sounds good,” Wilder said as he made his way down the stairs. “Good night.”
“Night,” I replied, lifting my hand. “Thanks again for coming out.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
I did. Which was one of the many reasons I loved living in Mason Creek.