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)
“Yes, boss.” Adler bent down and retrieved a stack of papers from near his hiking boot. We would have to see about getting him some decent gear if he ended up sticking around. He held out the papers for me. “Here you go.”
I’d handed him the inventory printouts earlier, but the ones he handed back looked closer to an art project with various colors of pen and an abundance of notes in the margins. “What’s with these colors?”
“I took the liberty of highlighting for you.” Adler stepped closer so he could reach around me to point at the pages. Having him this near made the memory of him pressed against me in the pond come rushing back like a creek after snow melt. Despite the October chill, my temperature rose a good ten degrees, and I struggled to concentrate.
“Did you?” I murmured, losing my stern tone by the syllable.
“Red are items you seem critically low on or out of.” Adler pointed at each color, and I was hyperaware of each movement of his arm, the barest brush of his coat sleeve against mine. “Yellow are things that are running low or might need replacing due to wear. Blue are duplicate items.”
Wow. He’d really gone above and beyond, and judging by his sly smile, he knew it.
“Not a bad method,” I allowed before striding away from him to place the sheets on the desk in the nearby room that Kat and I used as office space. I gestured for Adler to follow me out of the barn. “Come on, time for chow.”
“Good. I’m hungry.” Undeterred by my lack of praise for his efforts, Adler bounced along beside me.
“Not sure what all Maverick’s been cooking up at the big house for y’all, but tonight, we’re having chili mac at the bunkhouse.”
“Sounds good.” Adler grinned, but I made a skeptical noise. His grin dipped ever so slightly. “Seriously. I’m not a diva, especially when it comes to food. Ask Maverick. I ate more junk food than either of the kids at the county fair when I was here in August.”
“Hmm.”
“Does that sound mean, ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong, Adler,’ or something else?” Adler was not one to miss a chance to poke at me.
“Maybe you’re not all Hollywood, but you’re still a city boy.” I pursed my lips as we walked toward the bunkhouse. He might not be a diva demanding star treatment, but I was far from convinced he’d make it out west, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Adler made a frustrated noise. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“Nope,” I said as we arrived at the bunkhouse door. It wouldn’t do for Adler to think I was softening toward him, even if that was exactly what was happening. Damn it.
Most of the hands were already in the kitchen, either sitting at the table or milling around, waiting for chow. We hung our coats up on the row of hooks near the back door.
“This the new kid?” Reindeer asked. His real name was Randy, but he’d started on at the ranch last December. His hair that stuck up like antlers and perpetually red nose and cheeks had quickly earned him the nickname.
“Older than you, Reindeer.” I could be cranky with more than just Adler. Reindeer took life as one big joke, but I truly hoped he didn’t feel the need to hassle Adler in the hopes of getting a laugh. And I supposed it was also up to me to make introductions. “Everyone, this is Adler.”
“Adler, you know Kat.” I pointed to where she sat at the table and then to the stove where a portly middle-aged hand stood stirring a large pot. “That’s Casey. He cooked dinner.”
“Thanks, Casey.” Adler was all genuine charm as always. “Smells delicious.”
“Thank you.” Casey might be close to my age, but he wasn’t above blushing. He was the best of our rotating cooking crew and frequently swapped chores to end up making our dinner. I needed to talk to Maverick about making him the permanent cook, especially if we were going to feed guests too.
I was none too sure about feeding guests the sort of chow we usually had, but Adler and Maverick seemed convinced there were plenty of people who’d be happy to play at being a hand.
“And then we’ve got Reindeer, Chips, Motley, Jalapeño, and Doug.” I finished the introductions, gesturing at each hand in turn.
“You guys have better nicknames than the horses.” Adler grinned.
“Oh, hell naw, my mama done named me Motley,” Motley deadpanned. With his shaved head and many tattoos, he looked as ready to head out on tour as he did to help with ranch chores.
“Excellent taste.” Adler didn’t miss a beat. “What can I do to help with dinner?”
“You wanna grab a stack of plates from that cupboard?” Casey put Adler to work, and between all of us, dinner was on the table in short order. We were our usual, lively crew at the table, and I kept glancing over at Adler to see what he thought of the coarse humor and good-natured ribbing that was dished out along with the chili mac.