Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I tasted the goat cheese, humming at the delicious taste. The honey was unlike anything I had ever had before. “You will sell out constantly.”
“Won’t that be a problem?” she asked.
“The literature will state supplies are limited. But you might have to keep more inventory than usual for a while.”
“I can make more.”
“I’ll help.” Jane squeezed Rachel’s arm. “I think it’s so exciting.”
Jane sent us back to the ranch with covered dishes of fried chicken and homemade blueberry pie. I was grateful we had driven over, my legs sore and aching.
Luke joined us for dinner, but he was quiet and serious as we ate. I felt his gaze on me more than once, but when I lifted my eyes to him, he looked away.
Rachel chatted away about what we had discussed, even bringing up painting the buildings. She never mentioned the colors, though. He grunted and nodded a lot, but otherwise stayed silent.
She sat back, finished, wiping her mouth.
“What are the plans tomorrow for Sammy?”
He pushed away his plate, picking up his glass and draining it. “Thank Jane for dinner. Tomorrow, Tim and one of the other men will take Sammy around, showing her what they do. She can decide if it’s appropriate for the, ah, guests.”
“I thought you were going to do it.”
He stood, leaning his fists on the table. I tried not to think about how those hands felt on my body or moving inside me. “Rachel, I’m a busy man. I told you this. If I can join them at some point, I will, but I have things to do. It’s not me who’s gonna be escorting these people around when you open this place up. I still have to run the ranch, and it’s a full-time occupation. So, get used to it. Now, excuse me. I have to check some things in the barn.”
“Oh, you’re a bear tonight,” she mumbled. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Yeah, you are a little crusty,” I said, then started to laugh.
Luke glared. I laughed harder.
Rachel grinned. “Private joke, I imagine.”
“Not a funny one,” Luke snapped and stomped from the kitchen, shutting the door a little louder than necessary behind him.
I tried to control my laughter but failed. Rachel stood. “I won’t ask now, but you have to promise to tell me one day.”
I could only nod.
One day.
Rachel left to go see Tyler, and I headed to my room. I was aching and sore, unused to riding a horse, and my ass did ache from falling off it.
I stretched to help dispel the aches then found an ice bag and sat on the sofa with the cold pressed on my lower back and butt. I called my parents to pass the time and spoke with my dad about the cabins and timing. He was excited at the thought of a project and asked me to send more pictures.
“I sent Ronan the specs for him to look over. I figured with his eye he might know how to maximize the space,” I said.
“Great idea,” Dad replied. “I think Hunter and Ronan want to come. Maybe others. Bentley is giving us the plane.”
“That’s generous.”
“Emmy wants to come to the ranch.”
“She’ll be well treated. I think this will make an amazing place to have fun and relax.”
“Okay. Send me those pictures and a date.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, Mouse.”
I hung up as Luke walked in. He saw me on the sofa and paused, then hung up his hat and toed off his boots. He headed to the cabinet and poured something into a glass.
“Bourbon?” he asked.
I shuddered. “No thanks.”
“There’s some sort of girly drink here,” he said. “Amaretto. My mom liked it. So does Rachel.”
“Sure.”
He handed me a glass and sat down across from me. He looked tired.
“Get done what you needed?” I asked.
He nodded, rubbing his eyes. “One of the ATVs broke down. Needed to be fixed for tomorrow.”
“So, you’re a mechanic too?”
He shrugged and tossed back his bourbon, setting down his empty glass. “I’m whatever I have to be to get the job done.”
“You’re tired,” I observed.
He grunted, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. “I’m always tired.”
For a moment, I watched him. I set aside my drink and stood, going behind his chair. “Lean forward,” I said.
He startled, looking up. “What?”
“Lean forward.”
He did, and I placed my hands on his shoulders. I felt the tension under the firm muscles. I began to rub, shocked when he groaned a little. I spied a bottle of hand lotion on the table.
“It would help if you took off your shirt. And if you sat on the floor, I could reach your back better.”
His shoulders tensed, then he leaned forward, dragging his T-shirt over his head and sitting back, moving to the floor. I sat behind him, admiring the broad expanse of his well-muscled back and shoulders. His skin was warm under my fingers. I began to knead and rub, finding the tense muscles and soothing them, the lotion helping my hands move over him easily. He had broad shoulders and a strong back, and I worked away quietly, moving to the middle and back out toward his arms. His tattoo was high on his shoulder, and I admired it as I worked on his upper arms, not daring to go lower. It was the same logo I had seen over the entrance to the ranch with a weeping willow behind it.