Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I grab the set for a Polaris Ranger and start it up. The bed’s small, we’ll probably have to make more than one trip. But that beats carrying five hundred pounds of salt through the woods.
I roll the UTV around to the back of Rooster’s truck and kill the engine. He has more bags lined up and waiting on the tailgate, and slow claps his hands at me like I’m the one holding up progress.
“You’re lucky I like you,” I mutter, jumping out and tossing a couple bags into the Ranger’s bed.
He snorts. “Nah, I’m lucky you’re avoiding whatever’s crawling around in your skull today.”
I don’t take the bait. Just grab another bag, toss it, repeat.
We run out of room in the UTV about halfway through.
“Let’s drop this off and come get the rest,” he says, climbing into the Ranger.
I slide into the driver’s seat and fire it up. The growl of the engine hopefully loud enough to discourage Rooster from talking.
“You fight with Margot?” he asks once I maneuver onto the path in the woods.
I hit the brake hard, throwing him forward. He slams his hand against the dash, turns and glares at me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Oopsie, didn’t want to run over that squirrel.”
“Squirrel my ass. What happened? You held it together in front of Shelby but you’re being moody as fuck.”
“I’m always moody as fuck.”
“This is different.”
I glance over at him. “I didn’t fight with her.”
“Okay.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I know he’s not done. “You ghosted her again?”
“No, just left early.” I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. “But I called her this morning.”
He nods slowly. “And?”
“And what?”
“You clean up the mess you made by sneaking out without a word?”
My silence is answer enough.
Rooster sighs and shakes his head. “Man, you’re lucky she puts up with your shit.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mutter, slowing as the path curves to the left before Wrath’s house. “You done lecturing me now?”
“Never.” He flashes a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
As I clear the turn, a sharp crack splits the air.
“The fuck?” I mutter.
Wrath’s shirtless body swinging an ax in the air comes into view and it all makes sense.
“Well, that’s not something I needed to see first thing in the morning,” Rooster says.
I slow the vehicle, stopping by the path leading up to the wide front steps of Wrath and Trinity’s log mansion.
Leaning forward so I can see him through the cab’s window, I shout, “Are we intruding on some Red Riding Hood/Lumberjack role-play thing you and Trin are doing?”
Rooster strokes his hand over his beard. “Nah, I think he’s getting ready for a photoshoot for another book cover. Something like, Taming the Viking Lumberjack, maybe?”
Wrath sinks the blade of the ax into a tree stump and stalks over to us, sweat gleaming on his chest.
“Did you oil yourself up to chop wood?” I ask with a straight face.
“You two are full of jokes this morning, huh?” He stops on Rooster’s side of the cab, slaps his hand on the roof, and leans in. “The fuck you doing up here riding around this early?”
Rooster jerks his thumb toward the back. “Brought some salt up for Z.”
Wrath eyes the bags loaded in the back. “Awww, isn’t that sweet of you.” He pushes away from the cab and hefts two of the bags into his arms. “Thanks, Culligan Man. We’re low too, so I’ll help myself to these as your toll for interrupting my morning workout.”
“Knock yourself out.” Rooster shrugs.
Wrath tosses the bags over his shoulder and heads into the house.
Laughing and shaking his head, Rooster waves his hand in front of him. “Go, before Murphy runs out of his house and jacks us for another two bags.”
I ease my foot onto the gas pedal and steer the UTV back onto the main path. “I mean, since we’re here and we still have more bags in the truck to unload, we might as well drop some off at everyone’s house.”
“What’re you, the water softener fairy now?” He laughs. “Should I get you a pair of wings?”
“Nah, I already sparkle enough.” I grin and toss my head from side to side.
He twists around, counting under his breath. “Fine. Stop at Murphy’s. I’ll toss two bags on their porch.”
We bump and bounce along in the UTV until Murphy’s big log cabin comes into view. I veer to the right, stopping at the low stone wall marking off their yard and shift into Park.
Rooster glances over. “You’re making me drop off the bags?”
“Yeah. I’m the driver.” I flip my hand in front of his face, shooing him out of the cab.
He groans but hauls his big ass out, grabs two bags and marches up the walkway to drop them at the foot of the front steps.