Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Bay blinked, trying to wake up. It looked like he was going to need all of his faculties to deal with whatever had Shane’s panties in a wad. “We should talk about this in the morning.”
They had so much work to do and it would be cold as hell, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep because sometimes when he dreamed he saw her.
“We are leaving tonight.” Even at a whisper he could hear the finality in Shane’s tone. That was his “we’re going to do my will” voice.
Bay bit back a groan and started to slide out of bed as quietly as possible. It didn’t take long to pack since they lived like college kids in a freaking dorm. It should take longer for a nearly thirty-year-old man to pack all of his belongings. A couple pairs of jeans, underwear, and socks. His cell phone that only worked half the time when they could afford service.
He slid the most important thing in his pack and picked it up. His sketchbook. He didn’t have access to clay out here, and no one would let him use the welding materials for anything but work, so drawing was his only refuge.
He followed Shane out into the frigid night after slipping on his coat and exiting the bunkhouse as quietly as possible.
The truth of the matter was he didn’t like Kingman Ranch. There was a heaviness to the place that seeped into his work. It wasn’t like Bliss, where everything had an aura of beauty around it. He had an entire sketchpad devoted to Bliss. Over the years they’d been several times, and every visit yielded work. At first they’d been erotic sketches of the lovers he and Shane shared, and portraits of Stef Talbot in his element. Those early works had been lush and blatantly sexual, as if that was the only thing on his mind at the time.
Except for one. One sketch of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The one who sometimes haunted his dreams. Golden brown hair and blue eyes, the wind had caressed her like a lover, blowing her hair across her cheeks as she’d turned toward him. Time felt like it stopped in that moment, but it hadn’t. Years had passed, but he could still call up the vision.
He’d seen her so long ago at one of those festivals that seemed to happen once a month in Bliss.
Lately when he visited Talbot, he found himself sketching things like the old couple at Stella’s Café who held hands while they drank their coffee. A new mom with her baby and two husbands watching them with a glow in their eyes he worried he would never understand. A mangy dog who wagged that tail like the world was a wonderful place.
He found none of that here. Everything at this ranch was coated in a darkness he hadn’t been able to explain to his brother.
Looked like he’d figured it out himself.
He followed Shane as they moved toward the long driveway where all the trucks were parked. Most of the hands didn’t have their own trucks, but Shane wouldn’t let them be without a car. Hence them spending everything they had on that old piece of crap they were driving now. “All right, we’re out. Want to tell me why we’re skulking away without a last paycheck?” A thought occurred to him. “Damn it, Shane. Tell me you didn’t sleep with one of Kingman’s daughters.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Shane’s libido got them in trouble, though usually he talked Bay into joining whichever forbidden fruit he was pursuing that month. Not that he would touch one of the Kingman girls. They were lovely and colder than the Wyoming winter they were currently walking through.
Snow clung to Shane’s hair as they made it to the truck and tossed their paltry possessions in the back. “No. I think they’re running guns, and I accidently saw a shipment. I overheard Dennis and Andy talking about taking me out tomorrow. They were going to kill you, too.”
Fuck. He stood there watching his brother climb into the cab.
This was serious, and they were in trouble. Or Shane was way overreacting. That was the likeliest reason. Leaving wouldn’t cause too much trouble except for the lack of a paycheck. It was two weeks until Christmas. Not a lot of people were hiring at this time of year. He hopped in beside his brother and closed the door as quietly as he could.
Shane started the truck but left the lights off. He turned Bay’s way. “You’re not going to fight me? Tell me I’m overreacting?”
Bay shrugged. “I never liked this place anyway. But, Shane, we have to work. It’s not like we have a place to stay. We got enough cash for a couple of nights at a cheap motel, but that’s about it. I don’t know what you heard, but I do know something’s not right here. It’s like that time that we stayed at the artist commune and it turned out to be a cult. I get those vibes, but with less tofu and more violence.”