He narrowed his eyes. “If I could disown you, I would. In fact, I’m doing that right now.”
Joy clutched her heart with mock distress. “But your life would be so boring without me.”
“Negative.”
“Go.” She pushed him toward Joe, who was holding court with his poker buddies by the oak tree in the corner. “Mom says you and I act like children, but it’s actually you and Dad.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “Huh. There seems to be a common denominator.”
“Disowned!” Blake shouted over his shoulder. “And forget about staying at my place if you ever come to New York.”
Joy merely laughed in response.
Blake’s humor faded and his mouth settled into a grim line as he approached Joe. Was it normal for sons not to want to talk to their fathers? Probably not.
But he’d promised his mom he would try.
“Hey, Dad,” he said, breaking up the older man’s conversation about the upcoming football season. “This is for you.”
Joe accepted the plate without looking at Blake. “Thanks.”
Tension hung thick in the air between t
hem.
“Blakey boy! Haven’t seen you around in a while.” Max, a short, stocky man with a big beer belly and an even bigger mouth, clapped a meaty hand on Blake’s shoulder. He was Blake’s least favorite out of all his father’s friends. “Too good for us common folk now that you made it to the big time?”
Blake’s jaw tightened, but he smoothed it over with an easy smile. “I have a new bar opening up in New York, so I haven’t had time to visit as much as I would like.”
“New York, huh?” Max smirked. “The Big, Bad Apple. Guess our little suburb must seem boring compared to Times Square and whatnot.”
No self-respecting New Yorker would willingly visit Times Square, aka tourist central, but Blake didn’t bother explaining that to Max. “Austin’s not a small city.”
“I’m not talking about Austin, I’m talking ‘bout Cedar Hills. Big difference between the city and here.” Max chewed on an ice cube. “Hey, what’d you end up getting your old man for his fiftieth, anyway? Big birthday. New house? New car? You got the money.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Blake said coolly. He’d gotten his father a watch—a custom-engraved, $5,000 watch, which he was sure would end up collecting dust in the back of a drawer. Joe never used any of the gifts Blake bought him.
In truth, Blake would’ve been happy to buy his parents a new house. The Ryans lived in a comfortable but old split-level, and they had to have repairs done every year. But Joe and Helen had called it home for decades and refused to move out, so Blake dropped the issue.
Not that Max needed to know any of that. He wasn’t worth Blake’s time.
“Sure, sure.” Max chuckled. “Hey, you think you can get me a discount at Legends? Friend of the family and all that.”
“Sure.” Over my dead body.
“Speaking of Legends, we should go there for the NFL kickoff game,” Phil, another of Joe’s friends, mused. “It’s a great bar.”
This time, Blake’s smile was genuine. “Thanks.”
“Eh.” Joe munched on his food. “Why bother driving all the way downtown when we can watch it at your house like we always do? You just got a new TV, too.”
Blake’s blood heated, blistering his insides.
Are you fucking kidding me?
His father didn’t want to go to his openings? Fine. Didn’t want to go to his bars at all? Fine. But to stand there and discourage his friends from supporting his son’s business in front of his son? Not fucking fine.
“Legends is a twenty-minute drive away, and it has TVs too,” he said. “Not that you would know. You’ve never been to one.”
The group fell silent. Even the wind stopped blowing.