Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“The swing tilts,” he says after a moment. “Been meanin’ to fix it.”
I flick ash over the side. “Add it to your endless to-do list?”
“Nah,” he says. “Not endless. Just... always changing.”
We sit there for a moment, watching the hills drink the last of the light.
I glance at him sideways. He’s got his hat off, fingers running through that shaggy brown hair like he forgot I could be watching. His brows are drawn into a serious V as though he has something to say, but he doesn’t know if he should.
“Dinner wasn’t what I expected,” I say.
He nods. “You thought we’d be weirder?”
“I thought you’d all be shirtless and gruff.”
He laughs, loud and warm. “Stick around. Mornings in the barn get close.”
I roll my eyes but don’t fight the smile.
He studies me for a beat. “You did good tonight.”
“Good?” I echo.
“With the chaos. With the kids. With this place.” He spreads his arms wide like he can encompass everything in the embrace of a single man.
I snort. “I panicked and asked for a group proposal.”
“Yeah,” he grins. “That was somethin’. But I liked it.”
I shake my head and stub out the cigarette. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Maybe not now, but you will.”
He says it like a promise rather than a sales pitch.
“I should have sent someone else.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Our eyes lock and remain glued for longer than they should with a stranger, like he’s challenging and assessing me.
“Why?”
“I think you can do our situation justice.”
It’s a compliment I wasn’t expecting.
He steps away. “Night, Grace.”
When he’s gone, I lean back and let the silence settle again.
It still feels like it’s pressing down on me, but not quite so hard.
4
GRACE
I wake to the sound of a rooster crowing.
Like an actual rooster. Not a ringtone or some ironic farm noise alarm clock. A live, feathered demon screaming outside my window at six in the morning.
Welcome to Cooper Hill Ranch.
I roll over, groan, and bury my face in the soft pillow that smells of cedar laundry detergent and fresh air. The room’s too bright, I’m too tired, and there’s no coffee within reach, which should be a crime.
By the time I drag myself out of bed, shower, throw on jeans and a blue cotton shirt, and make it to the kitchen, the house is already buzzing.
The men are scattered. The kids are half-dressed, half still in their pajamas, and louder than any group of humans should be before eight A.M.
“Morning, sunshine.” Levi winks, sliding a biscuit onto a plate and shoving it in my direction.
“I don’t speak before caffeine,” I mutter as my body reacts to his proximity with a raging surge of heat.
“Lucky for you, I do.” He passes me a chipped mug with steam curling out of the top. “Here’s your morning medicine. Conway wants you outside after breakfast. Cody and Nash’ll show you around.”
“Why do I feel like I’m being handed off like a lost dog?”
He grins, flashing me with those dimples that annihilate sense and reason. “Because you are.”
***
Ten minutes later, I’m outside, squinting in the morning sun, already sweating, as I follow Cody and Nash to the barn.
The land stretches out around us like a painting of golden fields, dusty trails, and fence lines disappearing into the horizon. There’s a slow beauty here that’s unrushed and undemanding. It’s charming enough to settle my skin in a way a city skyline never has.
Cody leads the way with ease that says he belongs to this place, his shaggy brown hair catching the light, his sun-kissed skin glowing, and that calendar-worthy smile out in full force. He walks with surety, like the dirt knows him and trusts him back.
Nash trails a few steps behind. Quieter and leaner, he’s the type of man you don’t notice at first, but once you do, you can’t stop watching. His smile is small and careful, as if it costs him something to give, which somehow makes it worth more.
“This here’s the west pasture,” Cody says, gesturing with a gloved hand. “We let the cattle roam most days. Fences are solid, but we still check every week or so.”
“Guess what you’re doing today?” Nash adds with a quiet grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I stop walking. “Oh, no. I’m here to observe, not work.”
“Too late,” Cody says, handing me a pair of gloves with a wink.
We walk the fence line for over an hour, and I have a mouthful of questions I don’t let loose. I have time to get to the center of this article, but right now, working alongside them feels like the right thing to do. By the time we hit the halfway point, I’d tripped twice, stepped in something suspicious, and sweated through the shirt I expected to wear for the whole day.
But I haven’t fainted or died.
And weirdly, I’m enjoying being out from behind my desk.