Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Apparently, he bakes.” Kat shrugged. “No wonder he’s friends with Maverick. They’re both always hungry.”
“Yeah.” My brain was stuck on the image of Adler in an apron, somehow harnessing all his restless energy long enough to turn out something edible. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
“Hey, maybe you can get him to bake for us when he moves into the bunkhouse.”
“What?” A loud bark escaped my throat. I might be wavering on letting him have a try at some ranch work, if only to prove Kat wrong. I could train damn near anyone. The issue was that I didn’t want to, but apparently, I also couldn’t stand to hear the guy talked about in less than glowing tones. However, the bunkhouse was that much closer to my trailer and that much more likely to steal my sanity. The thought of Adler bunking with the other hands, some of whom could be a little rough and tumble compared to the urban hipsters Adler was undoubtedly used to, made my back cinch up tight. “He’s not moving into the bunkhouse.”
“How are you supposed to give him the full hand experience if he’s living in a guest room at the house?” Kat scoffed and clapped me on the back. “He wants to be a hand, let him have the whole deal. At least we might get some better grub out of it.”
“Maybe,” I allowed, brain whirring ahead to how quickly I could talk Adler out of this plan of his if I gave him the full hand experience, complete with all the shit chores. Heck, if I was lucky, maybe he’d never make it to the bunkhouse.
Chapter Six
Adler
“Are you sure you want to stay in the bunkhouse?” Maverick asked as I carted my suitcase, pillow, and two duffel bags through the kitchen. He was enjoying his coffee at the island as Hannah had left on the school bus shortly after our breakfast. I’d made it back to the ranch Friday morning, but the weekend had been spent celebrating Maverick and Colt’s engagement. Today was Monday. Time to get to work.
“How else am I going to advise you on renovations it may need?” I kept my tone cheery despite Maverick asking me some variation of this same question several times since my return. We’d had a strategy session last night, but many details for ranch visitors remained up in the air.
“True.” Maverick quirked his lips, expression going decidedly uncomfortable. “I…uh…some of the hands might not be the…friendliest folks.”
“Neither is Foreman Foxy.” I winked to get a groan out of Maverick. “Don’t worry. I’ll get along fine.”
“You keep calling him that, and I’m going to give Gray permission to use a riding crop on you.” Maverick made it sound like a threat.
“Please?” Laughing, I batted my eyes.
“No flirting.” Maverick wagged a finger at me. “No suitable targets around here as I don’t believe any of the hands are openly queer.”
“Key word there is openly.” I would never breathe a word of what had happened with Grayson to Maverick, but at the very least, there was some flexible in Grayson’s hetero.
“Adler.” Maverick drew my name out like a warning. “No trying to flip the straight boys.”
“But if I’m good at it…” I trailed off meaningfully so Maverick could groan again.
“Behave.” He made his voice stern like he was channeling his sheriff boyfriend. Not done being parental, he narrowed his eyes as he pointed at my bags. “Grayson said to send you over after breakfast, but maybe I should help you carry your stuff?”
“I’ll be fine, Mother. Promise. My suitcase has wheels.” Decent luggage was a perk of working years in hospitality, and I did a neat pivot on the hardwood floor to show how nimble the rolling suitcase was.
“All right. Try not to piss Grayson off too much on your first day.” Sliding off the stool, Maverick walked me to the back door. “He’s doing me a favor letting you work as a hand.”
“Is that code for he didn’t want to agree?” I already knew the answer, but I also wanted to see how much he’d told Maverick when he’d inevitably protested my plan.
“He agreed.” Maverick looked like he’d licked something sour. “But maybe not happily.”
I’d expected as much, but I had a stack of plans to change Grayson’s tune.
“Almost forgot!” I turned back to the counter where I’d left a wrapped plate of gingersnaps. “Maybe my cookies will soften him up.”
“Maybe.” Maverick sounded far from convinced. Undeterred, I headed off, bag on each shoulder, pillow under my arm, rolling the suitcase with one hand and carrying the cookies with the other. I was maybe a bit loaded down, but I didn’t need Maverick accompanying me like an anxious parent on the first day of school.
I’d be fine.
My suitcase kicked up a cloud of dust, wheels more suited for airports than dirt roads. I ended up half pulling and half dragging the thing as the narrow wheels kept catching on stray rocks and gravel. No matter. I’d be fine. And if I told myself that enough times, I might actually start to believe it.