Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
He nods. “Sure. Whatever the boss men want. Let’s get out there and figure it out.”
We both stand, and the older man tugs me in for a hug, slapping me hard on the back.
“He loved you boys. He’d be damn proud of you.”
He hugs Gideon too.
With a nod, we follow him out to the barn to saddle up and get to work.
Three hours later, with my head spinning with ideas, Gideon and I return to the house, and I’m pleased to see that the kitchen is painted and the work crew is gone. The furniture should arrive this afternoon.
“I’m taking an hour to work out in your fancy new gym before I have to go to the airport.” Gideon claps me on the back.
“Technically, it’s our fancy new gym.”
“No, this is your home. I’ll just use it when I visit.”
“I’ll be in my office for a while.”
“Making me money?” he asks. “You’ve always been such a numbers nerd.”
“This nerd has made you a shit ton of money, asshole.”
I grin at him, and then I make my way back to my office. I’ll work for a while, and then I’ll get in a workout of my own.
Yeah, I like numbers. Watching the market, shifting investments, is my hobby. Hockey was my job.
I did it backward, and I don’t regret even one minute of it.
I commandeered one of the rooms toward the back of the house, where I have a great view of the mountains, and set up shop in there with a new desk, a few chairs and bookshelves. It works great for what I need, and I dive in for an hour of numbers crunching.
I’m just about to turn off the computer and go to the gym myself when my phone rings.
At the sight of Willow’s name, my stomach flips, and I have to tell my dick to calm the fuck down.
“Hey there, Trouble. What’s up?”
“Hi.” She clears her throat, and I lean forward. I don’t like the sound of her voice. “Hey, can I come out and talk with you about something?”
I frown at the wall of windows before me. “You can come here anytime. You know that. Is everything okay?”
“I’d rather just talk to you in person. I’m leaving Missoula now, so I’ll be there in an hour, if that works for you.”
“Works for me. Gideon and I are around. Just drive safe.”
“See you soon.”
The day is looking up. One hour gives me time to get my workout in, and then I’ll get to see Wills.
Chapter Five
Willow
I’m going to kill him.
What is he thinking?
He’s not. That’s what. I’m at my wit’s end with my teenager. I hope that Ryker will help me. He will. Ryker’s my person. He won’t turn me away. He told me to come to him for help.
Honestly, I don’t usually hate the hour-long drive from my house in Missoula to the Triple Creek Ranch, but today it feels like it’s taking forever, even with the audiobook I have playing in the speakers. I don’t always listen to books, since it’s my whole job to narrate them, but today I thought a story might take me out of my head.
Right now, in this sexy Mafia romance that I’m listening to, the hero and heroine are getting it on. Jason Clarke is narrating the male point of view, and I love his voice. He’s so growly, and the way he says that’s my girl makes my toes curl.
Most people have an image of an actor or some celebrity in their head as the main character when they listen to books. For me, every single leading man is Ryker James.
Every single time. And it’s been that way for years.
Because of this, listening to or reading the sexy parts is almost torture.
It used to be safe because I hardly saw Ry in person for years. He’s always been so busy with hockey, and once Aiden came into my life full-time, I’ve been busy with him, so although I spoke with Ryker all the time via texts and phone calls, I was rarely in the same room with him.
“Calm down, Wills,” I mutter to myself as I turn onto the ranch road off the highway. I’ve been saying that to myself for the past few weeks every time I’m around my best friend, and it’s not working.
I can’t seem to calm down when I’m around Ryker.
I park and start to climb the steps, but then I freeze in my tracks when the door opens and Ryker’s standing there, shirtless, wearing only black sweatpants and sweat.
For the love of chiseled muscle.
“Uh, bad time?” I ask him.
“No, I just finished a quick workout. Your timing is perfect.”
I haven’t seen him shirtless in a long time. Ogling Ryker when he’s in a T-shirt is hard enough. The muscles, the tattoos, the veins in his forearms . . . they wake up every nerve ending in my body and make my ovaries do the jitterbug.