Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I can see the panic in Anya’s eyes, and I place both hands atop her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. I think I saw a pack of tablecloths in the back of Narnia.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “I hope you’re right.” She rushes off in the direction of the dry storage area.
We’ve called it Narnia for as long as I can remember, because there’s a back area where things just get lost. Or sometimes, like today, reappear.
“Hey,” Brock says. “I’ve got this spent grain for the Daniels’ ranch. Normally Joey picks it up but his truck broke down and was wondering if one of us could drop it at the ranch.”
I stare at the bags of spent grain, wondering who can run down to the Daniels’ ranch and drop it off. Mr. Daniels used to always pick up the grain himself, but after he passed a few months back, his daughter has been in charge running his place. I’ve only met her a few times in passing, and I nod at Brock.
“I guess I can run it over there,” I say, knowing that nobody else can leave this place right now.
Shep’s doing inventory. Griffin’s preparing for the party with Anya. Did I mention they’re dating? Yes, my best friend and my little sister. That was a hard pill to swallow when it happened. They kept it from me for a while too.
Honestly, all of my younger siblings have found somebody to share their life with. I’m the odd man out, but I don’t mind.
I’m not looking for love.
Although my mother wishes I would find someone. I don’t want to. I’m too focused on the brewery.
“Yeah, I’ll run the grain over.”
“I’ll help you load it into your truck,” he says, picking up a bag and hauling it over his shoulder. “Also, Willow thought it would be a great idea for us all to take a weekend off and go camping.”
I raise a brow before picking up a large bag of grain and propping it over my shoulder. “She does, huh?”
Brock smiles as we walk toward the bay doors. “Yep, she says if we can get everyone up in the mountains for a weekend it would be a lot of fun.”
I shake my head as I follow Brock into the back parking area where my truck is parked not too far away. “Willow doesn’t have a restaurant and brewery to run.”
Brock drops the bag of grain into the back of my truck’s bed. “She’s just trying to help.”
I deposit my bag and stare at my brother. “Help what?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Everyone’s worried about you.”
I laugh, a quick short burst of laughter with no humor behind it. “Who’s worried? Mom? Shep? Just because I don’t have a girlfriend doesn’t mean something is wrong with me.”
Brock’s eyes knit in confusion. “Nobody’s saying that, Cal. We just know how hard you work. We want you to find somebody. We want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. And no woman is going to make me happier.”
Brock holds his hands up in a placating manner. “Okay. Okay. No need to get all grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
Maybe I am grumpy, but I know it’s not because I don’t have a woman. That’s the last thing I need. I wish I could just find somebody and get my family off my back. Since they’ve all found, who they claim to be ‘the one’, they’ve all been insufferable to be around.
It’s like they’ve all made it their mission to hook me up with somebody. Anybody.
I’m fine just the way I am.
Grumpy and all.
Chapter 3
Violet
The hot sun beats down on me as I wipe my forehead with my forearm. I drop my hat back onto my head. I’ve been up since before the sun and I’ve yet to stop moving. The fields are plowed, the horses are fed, the stalls are mucked, and the chickens are fed. Not to mention, I’ve collected eggs, which I’m always so grateful for. My girls sure do produce well.
“Violet, my truck shit the bed, so I can’t pick up the grain from the Atwoods’,” Joey says, twisting his older hands together.
As I nod, I let out a sigh. “Can’t help when things go wrong, Joey. I’ll head over and pick it up.”
“No need. I spoke with Brock and someone from the brewery will drop it for us,” he says, adjusting his cowboy hat on his head.
“All right, that works. I need to clean out the chicken coop. Can you and the guys lead the horses out to the field for some exercise?”
“You don’t need to ask, Violet. I’ve told you this. We work for you. You tell us what to do and we do it,” he replies, raising an eyebrow.
I can’t imagine a better ranch hand than Joey. He was my dad’s right-hand man and now he’s mine. I’m still getting used to the idea of bossing him around. After all, he’s older than my father and it feels kinda wrong to be barking orders at him.