Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
The house was still a fixer-upper. It needed a lot of work. Unlike Remy and her father’s house next door that had been modernized from top to bottom. I knew the old neighbors and had seen all the updates they’d done to the place.
Someday. My sink wasn’t dripping any longer, but the windows needed replacing, the furnace upgraded, and the tile in the bathroom shouldn’t be avocado green. I’d get to it all eventually. If I had the extra money to tackle those projects. I wasn’t broke, but I was definitely just keeping my head above water.
My pieces were starting to sell around the country, and money was coming in, but setbacks seemed to consistently pop up and, well, set me back.
One pot ahead, two pots back, or however the saying went.
My cell chimed again. This time with a text.
The name on the screen made me smile. Marina. My friend from yoga class.
Colton’s out. Come over. I’ve got wine.
She had me at come over, but wine, too? Boy, did I need a glass. Or two.
I pushed the speech-to-text button because there was no way I could type with my filthy hands.
I’m in. Give me an hour.
5
JOY
“–and it wasn’t sugar… it was salt!” Marina exclaimed.
I couldn’t help but giggle, imagining her client eating a cake that tasted so bad.
We were behind the main house at Wolf Ranch. The lawn had lounge chairs with thick cushions on them that faced the barn and the fields beyond. It was a pretty spot. The sun was low on the horizon, glinting through the trees.
Marina lived here with her man, Colton, along with Colton’s brother, Rob, and his wife Willow. There was a bunkhouse down by the barn, which had a rotating group of ranch hands living in it. I heard the only people staying there now were Johnny and his wife Emma.
“If you’re not throwing pottery, what have you been up to? It feels like it’s been ages since we got together last.” She held up a finger. “In fact, it was snowing. Remember, Colton had to pick me up from your place.”
I nodded. “I do. That was a storm.”
She leaned over with the wine bottle and refilled my glass.
“As for what I’ve been up to, work,” I told her. “Work. And more work.”
I’d already told her about the broken shipment.
“Spending all your time in your garage isn’t fun.”
I shrugged. “It’s not a garage, it’s my studio. You stay inside in your kitchen to bake.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “I have Colton to carry me out of there and get me to do other things.”
I grinned. I could only imagine how he carried her–probably over his shoulder–and what those other things were.
“I love that you have Colton,” I said with a sigh.
“We need to get you a man.”
Instantly, I thought of Mr. Towel, my neighbor. Now he was all man.
I’d gone to bed the night before thinking of him. Heck, I’d even seen his dick, and we hadn’t even gone on a date! I knew the man was packing. Knew he was gorgeous. Literally every inch of him. Despite his apparent grouchiness, I knew he was kind to his daughter. Protective. Bossy.
I’d touched myself thinking of him, minus the towel.
How he’d growl and boss me around.
How I’d like it. How I’d come when he ordered me to do so.
How–
“Earth to Joy. Where’d you go, and can I get a ticket to join you?” she asked.
I sighed. “Sorry. I was thinking about my new neighbor.”
“Oh?” She looked intrigued. “Good or bad?”
“Good. Very good.”
As if talking about him, I conjured him up.
Because I could swear my new neighbor just came out of the barn. It wasn’t that close, so maybe I needed glasses, but I would recognize that stellar form anywhere. And then–
It was him! Because galloping like a pretend horse right behind him was a little girl.
“Him.” I pointed.
Marina whipped her head around.
“Wes?” she gasped. “He’s your new neighbor? Seriously?”
Wes. I never got his name.
I nodded. “You can’t miss the red hair.”
“Oh my gosh, he’s gorgeous. I know I’ve got Colton, and he’s perfect, but I’m not blind. If you’re into a grumpy ginger guy, he’s it.”
“Is he… mean?” I asked, thinking of little Remy. She was sweet and bright, and I didn’t want anyone to be unkind to her, especially her dad.
“Mean?” She laughed. “Nooooo. Aloof. Standoffish. Not shy. Introverted. Heck, he’s just plain grumpy. But look at him with his daughter. See if that doesn’t make your heart melt like butter.”
He was tossing her up onto his back and pretending to be a horse. I could hear her giggling from here.
“So where’s Remy’s mom?”
“Deadbeat,” she muttered with a wave of her hand. “She abandoned the baby right after she was born, from what I can gather. I suspect that’s why he’s so grumpy. He was single-dad-ing it on the rodeo circuit for three and half years, if you can believe it.”