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)
Turns out food prep is fun when you’re doing it with a bunch of cowboys. The camaraderie, the sense of community, of being in this together—it’s special, and it makes me long to experience it more often.
Duke sidles up beside me to dump a handful of sliced red onion onto the platter. I smile when I see his watery eyes.
“In our feelings this morning?” I ask.
Patsy serves breakfast at four thirty a.m., which means lunch is on the early side too. We’re usually seated at the table by eleven, if not earlier.
“Sorry.” He dabs his eye with the back of his wrist. “Food this good just gets me emotional, ya know?”
“No need to apologize. If there’s any food that would make me shed a tear, it’s Patsy’s.”
Patsy grins as she sets a sheet pan of burger buns, warmed on the griddle, beside the toppings. “Y’all sure do know how to make a gal feel special. Now eat! Duke, I made enough so that everyone gets two burgers. Don’t take a third unless everyone’s done, you hear?”
I stare at him. “You can eat three burgers? Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Snapping his fingers, he grins. “I meant what I said—you can’t work when you’re hungry. And cowboying is hungry work. Come to think of it, I’m hungry most of the time.”
When I watch him take off his hat before sitting down, his bicep bulging against his shirt as he reaches up to run his fingers through his thick, slightly matted hair, I have a deep, deep understanding of that hunger.
Everyone eats. The flow of conversation is steady, sometimes raucous. Ella begs for the biggest slice of pie, but Patsy gives it to me instead.
“For our honored guest,” she says with a wink. “It’s always nice having you back, Wheeler.”
“It’s always nice to be back,” I say, chest squeezing.
I mean that. It’s like they actually enjoy having me around.
Like they enjoy my company.
This is how family is supposed to feel. With my own family—my life—melting down around me, I’d forgotten that fact.
Mollie’s phone beeps, making her look up. Immediately, her eyes go wide.
“What is it?” I ask.
She picks up her phone and slides her thumb across the screen. “An email from Bailey.”
My stomach drops. Bailey Pappas is our whiz of a publicist. She’s helped launch some major brands in the high-end fashion space, and we’re hoping she can do the same for Bellamy Brooks. Bailey has been knocking on some pretty amazing doors on our behalf—buyers for department stores, fashion magazines, major influencers, boutiques with huge followings that host trunk shows—and we’ve slowly but surely gotten traction, especially on social media.
“It’s about Elle.” Mollie scrolls. Then she gasps, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh my God, we’re going to be in the feature.” Her eyes flick to meet mine as they fill with tears. “Wheeler, our boots are going to be in Elle!”
I blink. Blink again. I feel a smile pull at the corners of my lips. My heart pinballs around inside my rib cage.
“Seriously?” I ask.
She throws up her arms. “Seriously. The purple pair of shorties. Apparently violet is the hue of the season.”
Holy shit, this is a big deal.
This is happening. Right now.
My dreams are literally coming true right before my eyes. This feature will take us to the next level. Stores and influencers will start knocking on our door, which means we’ll be selling a lot more Bellamy Brooks boots.
With that kind of money, I can finally pay back my parents. Pay myself a decent salary. Hell, maybe I can even buy out my car lease.
I want to channel Ella’s unbridled delight. Jump up and scream and just—yeah, celebrate this huge fucking moment. Mollie and I sure as hell deserve it.
And I do celebrate. Kind of. I reach across the table and grab Mollie’s hands, waiting for the tears to come. I manage to smile.
Meanwhile, everyone around us erupts in hoots and hollers. Cash pulls Mollie in for a teary hug. Sawyer stomps his feet, and Ella claps her hands. Wyatt and Sally—when did she arrive?—are jumping up and down. Patsy is crying.
And Duke—
Duke is looking at me, a funny gleam in his eye like he knows I’m missing a step here. Like the news isn’t hitting as hard as it should.
Really, why can’t I be fucking happy for myself for once?
Averting my gaze, I shove that depressing thought aside and let Mollie skip around the table to wrap me in a tight hug.
“We also booked a trunk show at Aspen Leather Company in March,” she says in my ear. “I was waiting until you got here to tell you.”
My heart does a backflip of genuine delight. Okay, so I’m not totally numb. Just mostly. “Oh my God!”
“I know.”
“Oh my God, Mollie!”
“I know!”
Aspen Leather Company is the wildly famous Western wear store that’s been a city staple for over fifty years. They sell high-end boots, handmade belts and belt buckles, and an assortment of gorgeous leather jackets, pants, and handbags. Its regulars are well-heeled locals and tourists alike, and over the holidays, it becomes a celebrity mob scene.