Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I really, really wish I’d made more of an effort to see Dad. To get to know him.
I’m really, really proud of the fact that I inherited some of his traits.
Loving this land just might be one of them.
Loving this life, more like it.
My phone vibrates in my saddlebag. By the time I manage to pull it out, there’s no service, so I don’t get to call Mom back.
Honestly, it’s a relief. I doubt she’d have nice things to say about the fact that I’m on a cattle drive with fifteen cowboys in the middle of nowhere.
Really, she wouldn’t have nice things to say about the fact that I’m enjoying it.
But my heart does this funny little somersault when I wonder if she has news from her lawyers. Of course I want to go back to Dallas. I want access to my inheritance so I can make my dreams for Bellamy Brooks come true. That can’t happen soon enough.
The thought of going back to my quiet condo alone, though…I don’t love it. And I don’t know what to think about that.
I chalk that up to the newness of all this. Of course I want to stay on the ranch right now. It’s exciting and fun because it’s new. And there are hot cowboys here. The shine will wear off eventually. Let’s be real; that’ll happen sooner rather than later. I set my alarm for three thirty this morning. I can’t wake up that early forever.
I’m ravenous by the time we load up the trailers and head back to the house for lunch. I inhale one of Patsy’s pulled pork sandwiches from the fridge, which I piled high with homemade slaw and the tangiest, most delicious barbecue sauce on earth. I wash it down with lemonade and one of Sally’s brownies, which Cash begs me to try.
I end up having two. I’m amazed my stomach can handle all this food. It’s kind of a miracle. And I figure I’m burning the calories anyway. It’s nice not to deny myself for once.
It’s nice to use my body in such a physical way. Although my hamstrings sing when I get up from the kitchen table. No wonder these cowboys are bow-legged. A few hours in the saddle, and I’m already waddling around, back screaming, feet aching.
“You need some ibuprofen.” Cash joins me at the sink, taking my empty plate out of my hands. “And a rest.”
I shake my head, determined to make it through a whole day of cowboying. If I’m going to take the literal and proverbial reins here, I’m going to give it my all. “I’ll be fine. Where to next?”
He eyes me. “You sure? I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”
“I’m sure,” I say, heart doing that swelling thing again at his concern.
Who knows how much longer I’ll be here?
Who knows when I’ll get to be outside again? The heat is awful, sure. But looking at the negative balance in my business checking account is worse.
I like the fresh air. The sense of purpose I feel when I’m with the cowboys. One thing I’m learning about life on a ranch is that there are always people around, and I think it’s keeping me from getting in my head too much.
Makes me think about how often I’m working alone back home. Am I doing this all wrong? My career? My dreams? My life?
Or am I just suffering from a bad case of grief, mixed with Cash-flavored sexual frustration?
Whatever the case, half an hour later, I’m mucking stalls in the horse barn, alongside Cash and Duke. John B joins us after checking in on Happy.
The heat inside the barn is unreal.
Around two o’clock, I start to fade fast. My back is screaming. My hamstrings feel like rocks in the backs of my legs, and I’m so soaked in sweat, it’s left a gritty, salty residue on my skin. But I don’t want to be the weak link, so I push myself to keep going.
I can collapse into bed right after dinner. Six o’clock bedtime if I eat quickly. Six thirty at the latest.
Cash is busy—no fewer than seven people approach him with questions or problems—but I still catch him watching me from the corner of his eye. I’m nearly delirious with exhaustion, so I could be imagining it. But I think I see a glimmer of admiration in those baby blues.
I may have been born into enormous privilege. But I want to show him that I still work my ass off. Come hell or high water, I’m going to be the last man—woman—standing.
Dad was that guy, even after he made piles of money.
Now I’m going to be that girl.
But man, does this work hurt. Badly. I took the ibuprofen Cash suggested, but I think I’m beyond help at this point.
A whimper escapes my lips as I straighten after helping Cash give Happy her afternoon bottle, a sharp pain slicing through my lower back.