Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
When Holden looked at Sean, he was watching them, and somehow, he knew his nephew was thinking about his own father and wishing they had the same kind of relationship.
Damned if Holden didn’t wish that for him too.
Over the next few days, Holden spent more time than he’d planned on in the barn. Something about their ride the other day had lit a fire under him in a way he hadn’t expected. Sure, he’d already known he liked Monroe and that he was a good man, but his kindness, the way he offered Sean the use of the dirt bikes, made him want to do something extra special for him.
That was why he’d done some research to add a few extras to the barn…and paid a rush fee to have what he wanted finished in time.
Part of him was embarrassed to go to so much trouble. What if Monroe didn’t like it? But somehow, Holden knew he would, and thinking of doing something like that for him just felt right, deep down in his bones.
He spent too much time thinking about the other man—about his smile when they’d take a break from riding, or that damn body Holden had no business picturing.
Every time those thoughts filled his head, he distracted himself with the barn, trying to find more ways to say thank you, not just for what he’d done for Marilee and Sean, but for the friendship Holden thoroughly enjoyed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Monroe
He hadn’t seen Holden much the last few days. After their ride they’d shared lunch, and then the boys had gone to Wyatt’s room to play video games. Things had felt slightly stilted with Holden, like they hadn’t known what to say to each other, when before words had come effortlessly between them. Roe was a pretty easy guy to get along with. He could make himself fit into any situation. He made…well, he wouldn’t use the word friends in the real sense of it, but he made acquaintances without difficulty.
He didn’t figure the same was true of Holden. He was a little more cautious, a little more closed off, yet the two of them had become friends. He felt it, and he knew Holden did too, but after their talk by the shed, it had felt different, heavier. Like there was a weight around them.
He didn’t like it one bit, but hadn’t done anything to change it. They’d talked, pretended there wasn’t an elephant in the room that Roe didn’t quite understand, and then Holden and Sean had headed back to the cabin. Roe and Wyatt hung around the house until they went for a family dinner at the farm.
Roe had worked there on Monday too, then was back at his store on Tuesday. Needing some space from Holden didn’t bode well for Roe, because if Holden didn’t mean something to him, Roe wouldn’t need the space. But he did, and that worried him.
On Thursday evening, he drove his truck down the driveway after work, and noticed Marilee’s car wasn’t there. He didn’t know if she was at work or if their family had gone somewhere together, though when they did, they typically took Holden’s car.
When he saw the barn doors begin to open, he knew at least Holden was home.
Roe parked.
Holden was shirtless, his arms crossed, and a smile tugging at his lips.
“Someone looks proud of themselves,” Roe said.
“Someone has a surprise for you.”
Sparks ignited beneath Roe’s skin. “Let’s see it, then.” He was too giddy for his own good as he followed Holden into the barn. And…holy shit. Holden must have gotten extra supplies delivered when Roe wasn’t around. There was even more shelving than he’d planned, new hooks for gear, built-in cabinetry with MC—for Monroe Covington—engraved into the corners. A large MC hung on the back wall, with a circle around it, the whole thing welded together with metal and painted to look aged. That wasn’t in the plan. They hadn’t discussed that. Holden had gotten it made for him without him knowing. He’d done it for Roe. “You went to Clinton’s Custom Steel?” Roe asked, not the most grateful of replies, but it was all he could squeeze past the boulder in his throat.
Clint was a Briar County welder who made pieces for homes, farms, and yards. He was really talented, and even sold his art all over the country through his online site.
“Yep,” Holden replied.
Roe stood in the middle of the barn, spinning in a slow circle, taking it all in and feeling really fucking full. He didn’t know how to explain it other than that. Holden had done this, done something special for him, and that meant the world to him.
“It’s fucking incredible. Goddamn, you’re talented. How is this not what you do for a career?” But then, he was a pilot. How impressive was that? Was there anything Holden Barnett couldn’t do?