Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Of course, that means sometimes if one of us has a woman stay the night, there’s a good chance the other knows about it. The walls in our little house are thin.
“Dude… it’s your brother you’re talking to. Your compadre. Was it Becca?” Wade prods.
“Nah. We haven’t seen each other since the Spirits and Saddles Gala in June.”
“So who was it?”
I twist my neck, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Don’t be such a gossiping girl.”
Wade snorts. “Not gossiping. Just trying to figure out which local beauty is off the list so I don’t get your sloppy seconds.”
Chuckling, I turn back to my coffee. “Not everyone keeps a scorecard, dude.” But he’s got a point. Brothers don’t infringe on each other’s territory, even if the women Wade and I date are casual with no hard commitments. We’re both far too busy and happy in our bachelorhood to get weighed down with serious relationships. “But it was Kelly Myers.”
“The new training jockey at Silvermare?”
“Yeah.” We were at Copper Canyon, a new bar on the town’s main thoroughfare. It’s got a hip, trendy vibe and we both had too much to drink to make good decisions. We took an Uber back to my place, and well, one thing led to another. “But it was a onetime-only thing.”
I didn’t really need to add that last part. The minute I gave Wade her name, she was off the list. Like I said, brothers don’t encroach on each other’s territory, but I have no intention of seeing Kelly again. We were both fine to scratch a drunken itch and go our separate ways.
The bell rings at the service counter and Sam yells, “Order up for the Blackburn boys.”
He sets two plates of food on the ledge and Doris nabs them. She sets them before us and, because she knows us so well, grabs blueberry syrup for me and sriracha for Wade. “Anything else?”
“We’re good, Doris,” I say.
“Just your hand in marriage,” Wade says, making a grab for it, but she’s spry for her age and scoots back while wagging a chastising finger at him.
We tuck in but without any real rush. We’ve got plenty of time to get to the farm. We talk about some of the day’s tasks—training schedules, upcoming rider competitions, a quick check-in on how Ethan, Marcie and Sylvie are adjusting to their new normal.
“Kat, Gabe and I are going to take Sylvie to Kentucky Kingdom next weekend,” Wade says as he slathers jelly on his toast. “Want to go with us?”
While I’d love nothing more than to ride all the fun rides with my niece, Sylvie, one word in that statement has me declining. “Not if Gabe’s going.”
Wade shakes his head. “You need to get over it.”
“No, I don’t,” I reply firmly. Never going to get over disliking that bastard, especially for hurting Kat years ago. True, they’ve made up, and true, he saved her life, and also true, they apparently love each other, but that doesn’t mean I have to socialize with him. Hell, it’s bad enough I have to sit through periodic family dinners because my mom invites him over. Seems like everyone has forgotten the bad blood between our families for almost 175 years, or the fact that Gabe’s father tried to kill Sylvie not all that long ago.
I refuse to give credence to the fact that it was Gabe who uncovered his dad’s crime and turned him into the police, although that’s the one thing he has going for him that might lead me to tolerate the guy eventually. Maybe.
The bell above the front door tinkles and I glance over my shoulder to see Joe Aimes. A sturdy man in his late sixties with a shock of white hair and skin tanned from years spent working outdoors, I watch the head trainer for Five Oaks Farm, a generational thoroughbred racing farm here in Shelby County, walk our way.
“Morning, Joe!” Doris calls out as he takes the stool next to Wade. “The usual?”
“Yes, ma’am, and keep the coffee coming.” Joe’s eyes move from Wade to me and he nods a greeting. “Morning.”
“Hey, Joe,” I say before cutting a bite of pancakes. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing new with me, but did you boys hear about Lyle Rhodes?” My fork stops halfway to my mouth and Wade’s head whips Joe’s way. “Passed away last night. Heart attack, they reckon. One of his employees found him this morning at his printshop.”
The news lands with a thud. Wade and I exchange a look—Lyle wasn’t exactly a friend, but he was a fixture in town.
“Jesus,” Wade mutters, pushing the food around his plate as it sinks in. “Wonder what’ll happen with the business. Debbie sure as hell doesn’t know how to run it.”
Joe shakes his head, doctoring up the coffee Doris poured. “Maybe their girl will come back. What’s Holland been up to these days? She doesn’t come around no more.”