Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“They can predict snow?” This was news to me.
“Even better than my bum leg.” Grayson gave a rusty chuckle as he stretched said leg out in front of him before making fast work of the first sandwich. He offered up a reluctant sigh as he pushed back up to standing. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“You sound super enthusiastic.” I followed him back to the main ranch house, where we were meeting the tiny house people before showing them around the property and letting them take any necessary measurements.
“Eh. Motley and the others will be glad not to have all the guests in the regular bunkhouse. And I’m sure the income will help the ranch overall. It’s not the worst idea.” His tepid voice was maddening in its faint praise.
Luckily, I was saved from more conversation by the arrival of the two representatives from the tiny house company I’d found for Maverick. The wife-and-wife duo were eager to hear our plans, and soon, I had my rough sketches and notes spread out across the dining table.
In fact, I forgot I was supposed to be nervous, warming to the subject and rediscovering my confidence both. Maverick trusted me, and that meant something. So what if Grayson didn’t like the plans? That didn’t mean they were bad or doomed to fail.
“The plan is to do a row of the tiny cabins here, near the bunkhouse, so they can join in for meals and activities.” I pointed to the sketch I’d made of the area surrounding the bunkhouse before gesturing at another sketch of the pastures near the horse barn. “The new chicken coop will go here, along with a covered picnic structure for outdoor meals and gatherings.”
“Gonna be the most expensive eggs in Colorado,” Grayson muttered under his breath. I shot him a pointed look, and amazingly, my censure worked. He remained quiet for the rest of the presentation as the couple reviewed the various options for tiny house cabins and outlined the requirements for power, septic hookups, and other necessities.
“We’ll get you a quote for four cabins, but I need your signature for the bid request right here.” The taller of the two women held out a tablet for me to sign with a purple stylus.
“Wow.” After showing them the door, I let myself sag against the doorframe. “I didn’t even agree to buy anything, and my hand still shook.”
“You did a fine job,” Grayson said from behind me.
“Ha. You hate the plans. Too much like adult summer camp.” Unsure as to his sincerity, I wasn’t going to easily accept his praise.
“I don’t gotta love it to know it’ll be a decent moneymaker.” He quirked his mouth. “Also, I got ears. You sounded professional. You’ve thought about your ideas, even the damn chickens.”
“And llamas.” Bolstered by the compliments, I gave him a cheeky grin.
“Lordy,” he groaned. “Don’t push it.”
“What if I want to push it?” I stepped closer to him, crowding him closer to the wicker sofa in the front room.
“Adler…”
“What? There’s no one around, and it’s been a long week already.” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Maybe we both need a little fun.”
“You keep looking at me like that, and the fun is going to involve my hand and your—”
Whatever lovely threat Grayson had been about to make was cut off by the trill of his phone.
“Gotta go,” he reported tersely. “Kat’s got a situation at the barn.”
“Okay.” Nothing to do but let him go, same as always. “Good luck.”
The moment lost, I went on with my afternoon chores, keeping busy until dinner time at the bunkhouse. Faith planned to bake a frozen lasagna for the girls, with salad to go alongside, so I felt comfortable joining the bunkhouse crew instead.
However, there was one notable exception as Casey dished up a chicken and rice casserole.
“No Grayson?” I asked carefully.
“Nope.” Casey handed me a bowl with a roll on the side. “First-time mama horse acting broodish, likely because of the snow, but there could be a foal by morning. He said to go on and eat without him and Kat.”
“Maybe I’ll take him some leftovers after we eat.” I made the offer lightly, voice spontaneous and easy, not too eager.
“Better you than me.” Motley gave a snort. “It’s cold enough to freeze your balls off out there.”
“You’re right. Not sure how many inches of snow we’ll get, but the temperature is dropping by the minute,” Casey agreed. “I’ll pack up some food for him and Kat. You can take them some hot coffee too.”
“Will do.” I’d do the same for any friend or coworker, but no one else made my pulse gallop like Grayson. No one else inspired the dueling desires to take care of him and throttle some sense into him. And no one else had my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven