Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Well, thank you. I think.” Grayson wasn’t big on smiling any more than he was on lengthy conversation, but his lips moved in the barest curl that might have been amusement.
“Place would have fallen apart without you years ago, and we all know it.”
“Does that mean I’m not fired?” Tilting his head, he gave me a long stare. “The bunkhouse is all kinds of nervous too. Everyone was expecting y’all to sell and sell fast.”
Hell. In my hurry to rid myself of the place, I’d forgotten other people were depending on the ranch, good people who didn’t deserve to be left unemployed. Like Colt had rightfully said—damn him—my father’s death would leave a mark on the area. No one deserved this turn of events, and I felt highly inadequate to deal with the challenge. My hands clenched helplessly.
“God. I didn’t think about layoffs. I hate this.” I closed my eyes briefly, head tipping skywards, the same frustrated gesture Faith had done earlier. “I have no clue how to run this thing. I’m not a rancher.”
“You could try.” Grayson gave a deceptively casual shrug, gaze staying pointed. “If you don’t want to lay folks off and you can’t sell, why not try to make a go of it? I’ll stay on and help.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. I had done little to earn his support or sympathy, but I wasn’t stupid enough to turn it down. “That’s very kind.”
“Not wanting to job hunt isn’t kind.” Grayson snorted. “The market for banged-up foreman is rather small.”
He’d left the ranch for a time in his twenties to pursue his fortune on the rodeo circuit, only to return with a new limp and haunted eyes. He could dismiss his accomplishments on the ranch, but he was damn good at his job. My father wouldn’t have kept him on all these years otherwise.
“Hell, I bet you turn down offers on the regular.”
“None that mean anything.” He gave another shrug, gaze cryptic. “Cook already quit, but if you’re hungry from the drive, I can wrangle you up something.”
“Nah. I can cook. Later.” I waved a hand. No way could I eat right now, nor could I stomach his pity. “I need to get out. Clear my head.”
“Two-day drive didn’t do the trick?” Eyes narrowing, he gave a barky laugh. “I could saddle you a horse.”
“God, no.” I shuddered at the thought. I had nowhere to go—
Wait.
A glimmer of a memory snaked out and caught hold. And just like that, I knew where I was headed and what might help.
Chapter 4
Colt
Then: Fall, Sophomore Year
“This is a perfect day.” I stepped back from the fire pit to admire my handiwork. I’d built a beauty of a blaze, perfectly framed by a wide-open vista with craggy red rocks as far as the eye could see. The summer heat was finally backing off, leaving only clear skies and a sweet breeze. The setting sun was more compelling than a lot of TV—all pinks and purples, endlessly changing colors as we inched on toward night.
“Probably the last one we’ll have.” Maverick was as pragmatic as ever, dampening my good mood. He hit the final stake for the little pup tent we’d carted out here, along with backpacks full of supplies. My bid to bring horses camping had been shot down, but we’d liberated two dirt bikes from the storage barn. We were technically still on ranch land, but no cattle or famous Lovelorn quarter horses were in sight. More importantly, we were far from Maverick’s overbearing father and other adults looking to ruin our fun. We’d stopped at the large pond north of the main ranch buildings and cattle pastures for what had likely been the last swim of the season.
“At least until spring.” My voice came out uncertain. I didn’t like thinking about the long winter ahead. We’d had such a great summer, camping, swimming, and playing arcade games whenever we got the chance. Already, school and activities were cutting into our time together. Maybe Maverick was right, and this was the last perfect day.
“And I’ll have my license by then.” Maverick brightened at the mention of his sixteenth birthday. As always, he could go from moody to upbeat in a matter of seconds, making him hard to keep up with for a guy like me, who took things a bit slower. Lying back on a flat rock while I tended the fire, Maverick spread his thin arms wide. “You, me, and miles of open road. I can’t wait.”
“You, me, and what vehicle?” I scoffed. I was saving as much as possible from odd jobs, but I was unlikely to have a truck by my birthday or any reasonable amount of time thereafter.
“Worst comes to worst, I can borrow one of the ranch trucks.” Maverick shrugged with the ease of a kid who never had to worry about money. He didn’t make a big deal about the huge gap in our finances, but every now and then, I felt the pinch of our different realities. Maverick drummed his boots against the rock. “But I think Faith’s working on our dad. Might as well start now, remind him to care about a birthday six months away.”