Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
I can’t get over the fact that it was her idea.
“You’re welcome,” I reply.
“You can fix tractors and wheels and engines and…shit?” She motions to the heavy equipment parked behind me. A stack of spare tires is tucked into a nearby corner; a toolbox the size of a small house sits beside it.
I wipe my face on my sleeve. “I’ll get any engine goin’, no problem.”
“You’re funny.”
“You’re pretty.”
She nods at the flat tire. “What happened?”
“A nail. We bought this dang trailer less than a month ago, and it’s already gotten three flats.”
Then again, that’s the hazard of working and living in a giant construction zone. Stray nails, broken glass, and splintered wood are everywhere these days. Seems like the whole damn ranch is under construction. Between the new studio Mollie and Wheeler are building for Bellamy Brooks, the massive irrigation repair we’re doing over on the Rivers’ side of the ranch, and the renovations we’ve started on several outbuildings, our property is a fucking mess.
It’ll be worth it. But it’s a huge pain in the ass in the meantime.
Speaking of asses, Wheeler is currently devouring mine with her eyes.
“The grease.” She blinks. “Your sweat. But the jeans—”
“What about my jeans?” Rising, I grab my gloves off the top of the tractor’s wheel basin and tuck them into my back pocket. “You sayin’ they’re dirty too?”
“Very dirty. And I like them very much.”
“Would you say I”—I pick up a tool and toss it in my hand—“threw a wrench into your plans for the afternoon, Miss Rankin?”
“Ha.”
“You all right? Feeling any better?”
Wheeler was hit by a vicious bout of nausea after breakfast this morning. Dr. Martinez informed us that the morning sickness can get worse before it gets better, peaking between nine and eleven weeks, and that’s definitely been the case over the past few days.
Luckily Mollie was with her at the New House when it happened, but I still rode like the devil from the north pasture to check on her. She assured me she’d be all right and insisted I get back to work. I stayed with her for some lunch, then headed back to the herd.
Not long after that, the trailer tire blew out. Took me over an hour to drag it back to the garage. Another hour to change out the tire, because someone took it upon themselves to hide the tools I needed underneath the baler nearby.
I really hope it’s quitting time soon. If only so I can go home with my girl.
“I’m feeling all right. Just had a snack, which helps.”
“Good.” I toss up the wrench one last time before catching it. Then I put it back in the toolbox.
She blinks again, straightening. “I will not let your hot mechanic look distract me. I have a surprise for you.”
I gesture to the front of my Wranglers. “And I have one for you.”
Her face creases into a smile at that, tongue darting out to move over her bottom lip. “Mine first.”
“Aw, Blue, I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to wait that long.” I close the distance between us in four long, lazy strides. “I’ve a mind to dirty you up too.”
Those brown eyes dance. “Don’t you dare get grease on this dress. Shower first. Then we can do all the surprises.”
“Deal.”
“Meet me at the cottage when you’re done.”
I have no idea what to expect when I pull up to my house ten minutes later. Giving myself a good scrub in the quickest shower ever, I dry off, then pull on a clean T-shirt and jeans.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I hear Wheeler and Mollie chatting on the porch. The front windows are open, so I’m able to catch what they’re saying.
“He’s gonna flip his shit when he sees these boots,” Mollie squeals, trying—and failing—to keep her voice down. “Wheeler, I am obsessed.”
“I am too,” Wheeler gasps. “I mean, feel this goatskin. It’s smooth as a baby’s bottom.”
My stomach takes a hard tumble, landing somewhere on the ground between my feet.
Boots.
Goatskin.
Baby.
“Have I told you yet how happy I am that we’re having our babies together?” Mollie asks.
I hear the smile in Wheeler’s voice when she replies, “Just a few hundred times.”
“Thank God we have each other.”
“And our cowboys. Speaking of, did you ever call Miss Lee back?”
Now I’m smiling. Miss Lee is Sawyer and Ava’s nanny. Last night, Wheeler and I chatted about our childcare options on an after-dinner stroll. We both want to continue working full-time, so we agreed we’d ideally hire a nanny. It’s a huge privilege to be able to afford that kind of help, but I can swing it.
We can swing it. Still getting used to us being, well, an us.
My face hurts. Not sure I’ve stopped smiling since Wheeler enthusiastically agreed to be exclusive.
Thank fuck.
“I did!” Mollie says. “We spoke for a while last night. She knows a woman who’s looking for a full-time nannying position—”