Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He grins. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we all need this.”
“It’s settled, then. We’ll head out about eight,” Big Jimmy says.
“We should invite Randy. It’s only fair,” Sully chimes in, the voice of reason.
“Let’s give him a little while to cool down, and then I’ll do it,” Bulldog says.
Everyone disperses, me and Sully lingering behind.
“You think this is a good idea?” he asks softly.
“Hell, I don’t know, but I want it, Sully. Don’t know why I do.”
His smile is slightly sad when he says, “Yeah, I want it too.”
Chapter 27
Bishop
We’re sitting around a table at Buck’s Tavern, having ourselves a good old time. Well, most of us. Randy didn’t show, so I assume he decided to pass on hanging out with us. I didn’t ask, just feel relieved he can’t shoot daggers Porter’s way all night.
I don’t think I’m biased when I say his resentment is misguided. Were his parents still alive and had his wife not left him, he might not be so bitter about everything. But plenty of these men have hard lives, and they’re not out here aiming venom at the wrong target. If only he had some insight and could admit he’s envious of Porter, for all the reasons we suspect. If they stopped sparring, they might even be able to find some common ground. Little does he know that for all of Porter’s confidence, he’s hurting as well.
Porter, who’s sipping a beer directly across from me while his foot keeps accidentally brushing against mine beneath the table. He’s making me weak in the knees with every pass, and I wish I could return the favor. It feels amazing being out with him tonight, even if we have to hide how we feel. Blowing off some steam with these men I work with most days of the week feels good as well.
Dad seemed none too happy when I informed him at dinner of my plans. But Mom landed on my side and told him to leave it alone, that I had my own ideas about how to run the ranch and how to relate to the employees. She sent me off with a warning, though. “Have fun but be smart.”
That helped settle my stomach, as did Pixie’s excitement that Mom was going to teach her how to needlepoint after the supper dishes were cleaned up. Watching them interact was endearing but heart-wrenching, like possibly Mom sees that little girl as the granddaughter she’ll never have. But Mom seems to enjoy the nightly routine, as does Dad.
And maybe I’m not giving Randy enough credit. Maybe he chose not to join us at Buck’s because he decided to put his daughter to bed for a change.
Wouldn’t that be nice? Instead of taking my parents’ charity for granted?
“You shoulda brought your guitar tonight and played something for us,” I say to Porter.
“Is that what you been up to the last few weeks?” Bulldog asks. “You been playing at bars?”
“And here I thought you were just keeping Storm company,” Jeb adds.
Wade clears his throat and looks away because he knows full well where Porter goes in the evenings. I struggle to form any words, but Porter saves the day.
“That’s right. I either sing Storm a lullaby or come into town to play.”
When Porter frowns, I feel terrible that we can’t be out in the open. What would these men say anyway? They’d have to understand our history and feelings. Sure, they’ll be confused since I’m not out, or they’ll think Porter is just being his daring self by fucking the ranch owner’s son. Again. That thought sits sour in my gut, though I know deep down that this is more.
I hope when all is said and done, he still wants me—wants us—and we can put our past behind us. Because I’m not sure I can take him leaving me again.
His eyes soften across the table as if he can read my mind. I shake those thoughts off. Not a good idea to get sappy right then in front of these guys, who’ll no doubt bust our balls. They’d never do it to my dad, so maybe he has the right idea, but I don’t think so.
“Well, no wonder Storm let you ride him,” Big Jimmy quips. “You been sweet-talkin’ him for weeks.”
Jeb snorts out a laugh. “Now ain’t that a notion? Sweet-talking a horse.”
“And riding him.” Otis pumps his eyebrows.
“Don’t act like you’ve never sweet-talked your horse,” Porter teases. “I’ve heard you while brushing Dash.”
We all laugh, and Bulldog makes kissing noises.
“Yeah, but I don’t go the extra mile,” Jeb retorts. “Ain’t no gay bars out this way, so your only audience is a horse.”
“And a bunch of straight cowpokes.” Otis motions to the gal onstage, singing to the surrounding tables, where plenty of men sit enraptured.
“How do you know all of them are straight?” Porter teases, and the men crack up.