Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I grabbed the keys to both my truck and the largest ranch pickup before crossing the yard to the machine shed. “PeeWee,” I said, tossing him the keys to the ranch pickup. “You’re supposed to be helping your sister with her move. Get on out of here, and take Harrison and Mercy with you.”
Harrison poked his head out from the main barn. “I don’t need to help her move.”
I shot him a look. “Would you rather take over mucking stalls for the newbie? Because I’m taking him to town with me, and I’m happy for you to shovel that shit.”
Harrison sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Actually, I’d love to help Kris move. I’ve been dying to help.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said pointedly. I nodded to the barn behind him. “Now, tell the new kid to get his ass out here.”
Harrison gave a sharp whistle over his shoulder. “Tinkerbell! Boss wants you.”
When Richard came out of the barn looking like yesterday’s manure heap, I had to bite my lip against a smirk. If only Oscar could see him now. His designer T-shirt was stretched out and damp with sweat, not to mention covered in flecks of hay and dirt. His pearl-snap shirt was long gone, and there was a giant rip on the leg of his jeans. His fancy boots were toast too, which was what had given me the idea to take him to town.
As much as I disliked the guy, I couldn’t in good conscience allow him to keep working without proper footwear. It was a safety issue, if nothing else.
“Get in the truck,” I grumbled, nodding to my Ford F-150. Birdie’s ears perked up, but I shook my head at her. “Not you. Not today, sweetheart.”
Harrison whistled as he made his way over to the other truck. He eyed my ride with a slow up-down. “She’s taking the fancy ride today, boys.”
Richard’s face crinkled in confusion as he glanced at my personal vehicle. It didn’t look like much from the outside since it was covered in dust and mud, but it was my only splurge in the past few years. For as much time as I spent on the road between here and town, I wanted to be comfortable. The truck had heated leather seats and steering wheel, which was like living in the queen’s palace come wintertime in Wyoming. The dash looked like an iPad, and the ranch hands made fun of me for hooking it all up to my phone and listening to podcasts on it.
I shot Harrison a glare and opened the driver door. Before I closed it, I saw Jed step out of the kitchen door with his insulated coffee mug and a flush to his cheeks. I had my suspicions about why, which would also explain why Norma seemed to be walking with a lighter step recently.
Ain’t none of my business so long as they do their jobs.
I sighed and pulled the door closed before turning on the ignition.
“It’s a Ford,” Richard said, clearly confused.
I nodded. “Good boy. Eyeballs are working just fine.”
I turned to look behind me as I backed out, and I noticed Richard’s nostrils flare. “No, I mean… they were acting like this is a fancy car. It’s a Ford pickup truck. Isn’t fancy Ford an oxymoron?”
“Something’s a moron,” I muttered under my breath as I shifted into drive. “Well, it ain’t no Rolls-Royce, but for eighty grand, it sure does a fine job of hauling smart-mouthed elitists hither and yon,” I said a little louder. “But if you want me to get Hank Picoe back out here with his weed mobile, you let me know. He might give you a better ride if you know what I mean.”
Richard’s eyes went wide. “No, thank you,” he said, giving a little shudder at the thought.
We drove in silence for a few minutes. Normally I was just fine with quiet time, but for some reason, the air in the truck thickened until I could barely breathe. I rolled down the window and turned on the radio. Tim McGraw was singing about staying humble, and I snorted before changing the station.
Richard finally batted my hand away and took over the selection. “You have terrible taste,” he said before finding the world’s worst music station. Computerized noises accompanied a deep bass beat that vibrated my ass through the seat. I turned down the volume with a grunt.
And that little prick turned it back up.
I felt the muscles along my neck tighten and a tick to start up in the muscle along my jaw. Clenching my teeth, I reached out and flipped the radio off entirely. “My truck, my rules,” I growled, wondering when in hell I’d turned into a curmudgeon.
“Okay, dad.” Richard leaned back and closed his eyes, which meant he didn’t notice when I glanced over at him, taking the chance to look at him close up. His hair was tousled—and not in a purposeful, trendy way—his face had dirt smudges on it, and he smelled like a horse barn, but the man was still the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen.