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)
“I already told him the job is his,” I say, and Dad nods, like it’s the right decision. He’s no doubt heard the rumors too, but we all remember what a hard worker Porter was back then. His mom too. We cared about them like family. After he and his mom came to work for us, I could sometimes hear my parents whispering about the Dixons. I always figured it had to do with that lingering guilt about the rift between our families. “I was just about to show him the accommodations.”
“Still the same quarters?” Porter asks.
“We’ve done a little remodeling in the bunkhouse, so I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“I’m sure I will, sir. Thanks for the opportunity.”
I smirk as we continue toward the free-standing structure, which is only a stone’s throw away from the house and stables. “Not so cocky with my father, I see.”
“Gotta mind my elders and all that,” he replies dryly.
I huff out a laugh. “Not what I heard.”
He gives me a pointed look. “I start every job with good intentions. I can’t help that my reputation precedes me.”
“Your reputation precedes you?” I parrot back. “You didn’t have that problem a decade ago—maybe because your momma would’ve rung your bell. Sure, you were grumpy, but determined to prove your chops. Seems you’ve turned bitter and angry since you left.”
He narrows his eyes. “Suppose that’s what happens when you lose the only people you love in the whole world and the person you thought you—never mind.”
“Wait.” I grip his arm, my heart clanging hard against my rib cage. “What were you gonna say?”
He brushes me off. “Don’t touch me.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?” I ball my fists as my frustration skyrockets.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see some of the other hands in the paddock taking notice of us. They’ll be sure to ask all sorts of questions about the tension surrounding us, but it’s not any of their business.
“Yeah, it’s like that.” He glances over my shoulder. “Besides, your family might see and think—”
“What? That we’re old friends?” Christ, what is his problem? Is that what this is all about? Other people knowing about us? Maybe he still isn’t out. I certainly never caught wind of any rumors like that. “How about you tell me why you’re so angry.”
Porter stares at me, a storm cloud brewing behind his eyes. “I said never mind.”
“Just great.” I hang my head. “I was hoping we wouldn’t start off on the wrong foot.”
“Why do you care?” he lobs back.
I throw up my hands. “Maybe because you left without so much as a goodbye, and it hurt like hell. I’ve never felt like that—” I bite off my words and pace in front of him.
“Like what?”
“You know exactly like what,” I say and meet his eyes. Unlike him, I’m not going to mince words. “Like someone had stomped on my heart.”
“Oh, I doubt that. You had plenty to keep you busy ’round here.” He averts his eyes, but not before I see the emotion in them. Though I’m still not sure what he’s getting at. “Besides, we agreed it was only casual between us. That nothing could ever come of it.”
Though it’s true, the words are like a cold punch to my chest. After all this time, our time together still matters to me. I can’t easily lock it down like he does. But maybe if I’d lost my entire family, I’d pack it away too. Probably hurts less that way.
I get my breathing under control. “Even still…I never got any explanation from you.”
“And you still won’t. I’m just here to do a job and then be on my way.”
His gaze catches on the thoroughbreds being exercised in the paddock, and I can see the same wonder in his expression he had when he first came to the ranch. He loves working the land, the cattle, and especially the horses. This way of life. It’s what drew us together in the first place. Among other things.
“Just arrived yesterday. Dad’s hoping to use a few of them in competitions.”
Horse shows and rodeo can be lucrative for a ranch if you have the right mounts and riders. The grooms are all for competition, as are some of the hands. As kids, we’ve all had dreams of racing horses or riding bulls, and sometimes it doesn’t leave you as an adult. But it takes work and practice—and trust from the horses.
His eyes don’t stray from the paddock. “They’ll need some work.”
“Then maybe you’re the man for the job.”
It’s the first hint of a smile I see, and it makes my stomach all wobbly. The man still has that effect on me. I wonder how many others he’s charmed on any number of ranches.
“You enjoy traveling around so much?” I ask, ignoring how my stomach hardens at the thought of him with countless other men. He’s still the best I’ve ever had.