Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Hartley stands between Jasper and Brooks as Gray pounds a tool against a stake. Shirtless … in cowboy boots. Sweat coats his skin, and his muscles ripple in the light as if the sun’s whole purpose is to highlight the perfection of his body. Movies are built around this scene, and I would be remiss not to capture it for posterity … and my personal use later.
I rustle through the blankets until I find my phone. Then I snap a picture and post it in the group chat.
Me: Yeehaw!
Gianna: And the gifts keep on giving.
Me: I’m not mad about it.
Audrey: I’m not seeing anything to be mad about.
Gianna: Saturday. I’m tired of Stupey’s, so how about Rhubarb at 7:00 p.m.?
Me: Sounds good. It’s my turn to pay. My raise hit my bank account on Friday, so here’s to having a bit of money (if Joe comes through for me).
Audrey: I can make it. Sending you and Joe all the good juju!
Gianna: Prepare a monologue, Astrid. I want EVERY detail.
Me:
I perform a quick check of my email, then succumb to my growling stomach. A glance out the window shows the guys still working hard. So I get dressed sans panties—where did they go?—and freshen up in the bathroom. My finger makes a decent toothbrush in the absence of the real thing.
I head to the kitchen, following the scent of bacon and coffee. I’m greeted by a robust woman in a red-and-white checkered apron with the makings of a pie crust in front of her. She smiles as if she’s been expecting me and asks if I’d like a cup of coffee.
“Yes, please,” I say, feeling slightly awkward.
“It’s a beautiful morning out there, isn’t it?” She offers me creamer, but I shake my head. “I’m Cathy, by the way. The boys said you were sleeping. I saved you some breakfast, if you’re hungry. Do you like bacon and eggs?”
She made me breakfast? “Who doesn’t like bacon and eggs?”
“Vegetarians.” She laughs, motioning toward the table. “Sit. Relax. I’ll fix you a plate. Do you prefer white or wheat toast?”
I take a seat, puzzled. What is happening here? Gray mentioned Cathy yesterday—I vaguely remember him saying her name. But why is she acting like my personal chef?
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, fidgeting in the chair. “I’m sure you have other things to do.”
She pauses, her hand stretched mid-air for a spatula. The grin she gives me is the warmest, sweetest thing that washes away any hesitation I have about letting her wait on me.
“Darlin’, my job is to do whatever the boys tell me to do,” she says. “And I was given strict instructions this morning to make sure you’re comfortable and fed. With no peanuts.”
Of course, Gray mentioned my allergy. Even when he’s not here, he manages to hold space for me. He was obviously thinking of me before I was awake today, considering my needs and comfort. What a wild concept.
What a complicated, enigmatic man.
I take a cup of coffee from Cathy and settle back in my seat, a little thrown off and struggling to regroup.
“The boys are fixing a fence this morning,” she says with her back to me. “Well, they’re supposed to be doing that. But Brooks and Jasper showed up a little while ago with some papers from town for Gray, so God knows what they’ll get done with those two heathens here.”
I chuckle. “I met them both yesterday. Jasper seemed pretty calm and rational. Brooks, though? He was … not.”
She snort-laughs. “You have them pegged already. Brooks Dempsey is more than a handful; I’ll tell you that for certain. I’ve known that boy since he was knee-high, and he’s been a rascal since day one.” She shakes her head, turning to me with a plate in her hand. “He’s a good boy, though. They all are.” She places my breakfast in front of me. “I gave you wheat toast since you didn’t specify. Let me know if you want jelly or jam.”
“Thank you, Cathy. This is very nice of you.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” she says warmly.
“It looks wonderful.”
Cathy goes back to her pie crust, leaving me alone with my bacon and thoughts. I’ve not known Hartley for twenty-four hours, but I’m sitting in his home getting served breakfast by his house manager. Under no circumstances should I find this comfortable or inviting, but I do. Everything about this place—about the ranch, the people, and the town—feels natural to me. I’m not sure what to make of it. Am I still in an orgasm high? Will I go to bed tonight, relive this Sugar Creek experience, and cringe myself to sleep?
It's a solid possibility. But I might as well lean into it anyway. I’m already this far in.
“So Gray said that the two of you work together,” Cathy says, rolling out a round of dough.