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 thought about my confrontation with Boone in his office earlier. He seemed to think I was only capable of shoveling shit, and apparently, I couldn’t even do that right.
This wasn’t my world. It would never be my world. No matter how hard I worked, how much shit I shoveled, how many cows I helped wrangle, or how many bruises I earned learning to ride, I’d still find a way to screw something up.
It was just who I was.
I’d learned early on that the best way to not disappoint anyone was to make sure no one, especially myself, expected much from me. Somewhere along the way, I’d let myself forget that. I’d tried to break away from my underachieving daddy’s boy past, to strike out on my own and prove I could handle myself in the real world, but I hadn’t been fooling anyone but myself. Turned out Oscar had been right from the start. I couldn’t hack it.
The joke was on me.
After I finished with the compost, I cleaned and returned the tractor and checked on Victory. Then I headed to the bunkhouse to pack my stuff.
Boone had been right; I wasn’t cut out for ranch life. This incident was a sign that I belonged back in New York. And if leaving meant I lost the bet with Oscar, so what? I didn’t need his connections to get a job interview. If I still couldn’t find one on my own, I could… I could ask my dad. All I’d have to do was suck up to him the way he wanted. To try harder to be the person he wanted me to be. To put some real effort into working for the family business.
And after spending ten hours crimping barbed wire on my hands and knees in the spring mud, I knew I was capable of hard labor, so I could sure as shit handle some clean office work with a nice iced coffee on my desk and no manure stench up my nose, right?
I started throwing my stuff into my suitcases. First thing the next morning, I was going to bum a ride off Jed when he went into town for his weekly cinnamon roll splurge. Once I was back in New York, I’d find a friend’s couch to crash on while I figured out what to do next. Worst-case scenario, James and his new man owned an entire freaking hotel out on the Cape; they’d surely put me up in a room during the off-season.
After packing everything up, I took a long, hot shower, intending to join the guys for dinner. But when I lay down on my bed for just a minute, that minute turned into ten hours of deep sleep.
I woke early the next morning, even before my alarm went off. Through the window, the sky outside was dark, not even the barest hint of light visible beneath the horizon. I could hear some stirring in the other rooms, but no one was out and about just yet.
I got dressed quickly, pulling on my Alexander McQueen boots before sneaking out of the bunkhouse. It felt strange wearing my old boots as I cut across the gravel driveway toward the horse barn. It was almost like I wore no shoes at all, and it made my feet feel oddly vulnerable.
I paused in the middle of the yard, sucking in a deep breath. The ever-present smell of hay and animal filled my nostrils. It was hard to believe that a little more than a week ago, that stench had almost made me retch. Now there was comfort to it. Familiarity.
I glanced toward the calving barn, light spilling out from under the large doorway. I wondered if Boone was in there. The thought tugged at something inside me. I almost started walking in that direction, wanting to see him one last time before taking off, but I knew that would be a mistake. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing the satisfaction in his eyes when I told him he was right and I was leaving.
Instead, I turned away and shoved my hands in my jeans, ducking my head against the crisp, cool air as I made my way to the horse barn.
Once in the barn, I saw light spilling from Jed’s office, and I could hear the slow pecking of his keyboard. I made my way to the doorway, hesitating for a moment. Jed sat hunched over his computer, glasses perched on the edge of his nose and a frown furrowing his weathered forehead.
“Morning,” I said.
He jumped, spinning toward me and pressing a hand against his chest. “Jesus fucking hell! Never sneak up on an old man unless you want a corpse on your hands.” He turned back to his computer. “What do you want?”
I cleared my throat. “I was hoping you could give me a ride into town.”