Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“We've got a steer-branding early next week and we need to make sure these fences and stalls are up to the job. They're powerful beasts.” Jesse's already heading away towards the main pen.
“Yep, and they don't like their backsides fried to a cinder. Smells like a smokehouse round here when it happens.” Maverick has no filter system, and Jesse throws him a glance back that could melt an iron bolder.
“You'll scare the poor girl with stupid comments like that.” I lead the horses to a water trough, and they slurp and gulp the liquid thirstily.
“Sounds painful.” Taylor looks back at the way we came and then at the sun beating fiercely. The ranch house is way out of sight, so she's going nowhere.
“It's state law here, honey,” I tell her. “And it's necessary to claim ownership in case they go wandering off or worse. You'll get used to it. It doesn't take long.” Hurting animals in any way has never sat well with me, but in some ways, it's for their own good. Life on a ranch is a series of compromises. Business is business, and we've got to make a living.
Jesse's arranging the tools he's brought with him, strapped to his horse, the labor of today calling all our names. “We're bringing in some farm hands, so you won't actually need to get involved, but we'll need you to go over to the bunk house later on and make sure the bedding is all clean and set up, get the bathroom cleaned, things like that.”
“I'm happy to give you a hand,” I add.
She nods, grateful.
Taylor watches while we get to work, lingering in the shade of a broad tree with the horses and our lunch. She smears sunscreen over her skin, drawing all our attention away from the fences. Her face glistens prettily as she blows her hair away from her warm face. The taste of her lips is still clear in my mind. Maybe bringing her wasn't such a great idea if we're all going to spend the whole day lusting rather than working. Reinforcing fences is hard graft, even with three of us, but Maverick keeps us laughing with his jokes, and having Taylor nearby is a sweet distraction.
At lunchtime, Taylor sets out the food and we enjoy a cool drink of juice to rehydrate. With late Spring more like summer, I can't imagine what the summer season is going to bring, but I do know that I want Taylor to be here.
We eat all the savory food, and then Taylor passes the delicious baked goods around. I swear, if she doesn't stop with all the sweet treats, I'm going to go from a six pack to a one pack in less than a month.
“You're so good at baking,” Maverick moans, licking his lips lasciviously. Jesus. It's like the guy's acting out his very own porno.
“Thank you.” Taylor flushes and begins to pack away the rest of the picnic.
“I heard you mention something about starting a baking business last night,” Jesse says. It's not a question as such, but the way he leaves it hanging is a hint for Taylor to elaborate.
Taylor chews her bottom lip, looking at the dirt in front of her. “Taylor-Made Bakes,” she says, like she's confessing to a murder. I like the play on words.
“You don't need to work. You know that, right?” Jesse says. “We do enough of that for all of us.”
Taylor's gaze drifts to Maverick and then to me, searching for confirmation that we all feel the same. Do I want to lock her up in the house and fill her with children like Jesse? Not really. She's still young, and everyone needs something in their lives they're passionate about. Expecting a young woman to shelve her dreams so she can create domestic bliss for us feels shitty, like taking away a toddler's favorite toy.
And anyway, the first kid is Jesse's. That's what we agreed, or rather, he dictated.
I rise before Jesse has more time to put his foot in it, or Maverick can gloss over the disquiet with a joke. “If you guys can finish here, I'll take Taylor to the shelter. We have a few things to do.”
The staredown between Jesse and I is intense, but for once, he doesn't push.
I help Taylor pack the rest of the food containers away and strap the basket back onto Taffy. She clambers onto his back with more finesse than earlier, a fast learner.
As I lead the way back to the house, I wonder how there will be any kind of resolution possible between two people with opposing dreams.
13
MAVERICK
BAD BLOOD
“Happy birthday, man.” I slap Jesse’s shoulder and shove the bottle of booze I bought him on the shopping trip with Taylor toward him in a grand gesture. We’ve been working together all day but saved the gifts until we can relax.