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)
Conway folds his arms. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
I pull the folded paper from my pocket and open it, reading the top line.
“Carrot cake.”
Levi tips his head. “Why carrot cake?”
“It’s her favorite.”
“What else you got?” Conway asks.
I turn the paper to face them. It’s the shortest list I ever wrote. One entry. I ignore the snickers. What do they think I am? Cowboy by day, party planner by night?
“What about a barn dance?” Dylan asks. “She likes those old country records. I’ve heard her humming in the kitchen when she thinks nobody’s listening.”
“She likes it out under the stars,” Nash says. “How about a birthday picnic? We can make sandwiches, spread blankets around a fire pit, make s’mores, music, maybe a little dancing.”
“The kids can pick flowers in the morning,” Corbin adds. “We’ll help them make her a crown or bunch or something. She’ll love that.”
Harrison rubs his chin. “We could get the kids to sing her the happy birthday song? And make her a card.”
“We don’t have a gift,” I point out.
“I can paint her something,” McCartney says. “We have some plain wooden frames stored somewhere.”
“What would you paint?” Conway asks.
“The ranch?” McCartney bites his bottom lip, glancing up at the wooden rafters. “Us?”
“Like a memento for when she leaves?” Brody says. “That’s a great idea.”
“She’s not leaving,” Cody barks, his usually friendly expression turning dark. “Paint it, McCartney. Paint the ranch, all of us, the kids, and Grace, too. Put her in the center. Show her where she belongs.”
Our resident artist nods solemnly, taking on the responsibility even though we have no time.
I finish jotting on my list. “We’ll need to keep her busy tomorrow morning while all this is going on.”
“I’ll take her out,” Brody says. “Fix some more fences. Make her think she’s going to get to know me some more.”
“That’ll be a great way to make her want to leave for good,” Levi says with a grin.
Brody doesn’t reply, but I catch his jaw twitching in annoyance. Even if he’s not ready to admit how much he cares, he’s still found a way to make this whole plan work.
I nod slowly, the schedule already forming in my head like fence lines clicking into place. “All right, then. We’ve got work to do. I’ll help Corbin with the food prep. Dylan, you take the kids to gather the flowers; Harrison, you’re on song and card duty; Nash and Cody can prep the fire pit and get the blankets ready. Levi, you’re on music duty. McCartney’s painting. Brody’s babysitting.”
“What about me and Jaxon?” Conway asks.
“I’ll take drinks,” Jaxon says.
Conway lifts a brow at Jaxon, then looks at me. “I’ll handle lighting, then. We’ve still got those string lights in the storage shed from Eli’s birthday, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “They’ll need untangling, but they should still work. There are glass jars in storage to make lanterns.”
“We’ll make it work,” Conway replies.
The plan’s rough, thrown together with duct tape and wishful thinking, but there’s a quiet energy humming beneath it like we all know how rare this opportunity is: a woman like Grace, in a place like this, and a chance to show her how special she is to us. None of us wants to mess it up.
Levi breaks the silence with a grin. “We pulling this off before noon?”
“Makes sense to have the picnic for lunch,” I say. “Maybe one o’clock. Brody’s conversation skills won’t last all day.”
Jaxon snorts, but I don’t know why. He’s no better at stringing sentences together most of the time.
“I’ll start at sun-up,” McCartney says. “Painting out on the porch should give me the best light anyway.”
“Where do you want me to take her?” Brody asks.
I think for a second. “The western line. Say Conway’s worried about loose fencing over there. Take your time.”
“She’s going to think all we do is deal with the fucking fences.”
“Some days it feels like that,” I grimace.
He gives a single nod without his trademark sarcasm. For Brody, that’s basically a blood oath.
“All right,” Conway says, clapping his hands together once. “We’ve got a few hours of sleep before this all kicks off. Let’s make it count.”
The group breaks up, boots thudding as they file out in ones and twos. Jaxon gives me a nod on the way past, like he approves of everything we’re trying to do.
Corbin stays behind a second, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Thanks for organizing this, Lennon.”
I shrug. It’s no big deal. The truth is that any man in this place would have done the same if they’d overheard Grace talking. “She deserves it.”
Corbin nods once. “Yeah. She does.”
We head out into the cool night air together. Above us, the stars are starting to fade behind a bank of clouds rolling in from the west. I say a quick, silent prayer that the weather holds out until after the fire’s burned down and the last song plays out.