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)
“That’s not true.” Kat was always one to keep me honest. “You get along fine with Maverick.”
“He’s not city.” Maverick might have spent two decades in LA, but I didn’t see him as urban in the same way that I saw Adler. And my mother—another thought I didn’t want to have right then and sure as shit wasn’t sharing. “Maverick is ranch born and raised.”
“There are newcomers who end up sticking around.”
“Don’t trust ’em.” A chilly wind whipped through the lean-to structure, but I suppressed the urge to shiver and stamped my feet instead. “Most end up part-timers. Gonna turn the area into another Jackson Hole. Playground for the rich.”
“And that’s why we need to save this ranch from developers.” Kat rubbed her bare hands together. “Much as I don’t like the idea, some income from guests isn’t a terrible idea.”
I made a frustrated noise. “You’re the one who said I could turn down having Adler as a hand.”
“Maybe he’s growing on me.”
She was far from the only one, which only made me that much more resolved to show Adler the realities of ranch life and keep my distance.
Chapter Ten
Adler
The bunkhouse woke up at o’dark thirty. Not even a hint of sunrise peeked in the windows, and I almost fell out of my top bunk as various folks’ alarms went off. The bunk room Grayson had assigned me to was mainly used for seasonal and newer hands. This time of year, there were actually plenty of open bunks in the room, which irked me further that Grayson had given me a top bunk. Older hands, like Casey and Motley, had their own room in the rear of the bunkhouse while Kat and Grayson occupied trailers located behind it.
Not that I would have been so blatant as to try anything around the other hands, but a peek at Grayson in a towel or whatever he slept in might have been nice. I’d showered before bed, which was a good thing as I was way too sleepy to manage one now. I carefully lowered myself out of the top bunk, stumbled to my dresser, pulled on the first items I found, and joined the other bleary-eyed hands in the kitchen.
“Morning.” Casey handed me a cup of coffee from a large pot on the counter. The coffee was decidedly mediocre. Maverick’s taste for good coffee had spoiled me, so I resolved to gift the bunkhouse with some decent beans.
In contrast to movies, where the mornings on a ranch started with a big fry-up, breakfast was more of a fend-for-yourself affair. A surprising number of folks went for an impressive collection of boxed cereals in the pantry, while others dug around in the freezer or fridge.
“Nice hoodie.” Reindeer looked up from piling an alarming amount of peanut butter on toasted frozen waffles to gesture at my pastel-pink hoodie with a silver unicorn dancing on a stripper pole. “Get your sister’s laundry by mistake?”
“Oh no!” Faking alarm, I looked down at my chest. “Thank goodness. You had me scared for a minute there, but this hoodie is all mine.” With its glittery sheen, it wasn’t my most subtle shirt, but it was a relic from an exclusive party I’d worked at my last hotel job and too fun not to pack for Colorado. Plus, on this chilly late October morning, the hoodie was warm. If Reindeer had a problem with me wearing pink, he could simply deal.
“Gonna scare the horses.” Luckily, other than that parting shot, Reindeer went back to whatever vile thing he was doing to his waffles, adding banana and honey. I took the easier route and made myself a bowl of cereal better suited for elementary schoolers.
“Be sure and eat some protein too,” Casey advised as I fetched some milk. He was one of the few who had a hot breakfast, as he tucked into a large bowl of oatmeal.
“Morning.” Grayson apparently ran on black coffee and a cranky attitude as he didn’t glance at the breakfast options when he came in. Didn’t even take his black hat off as he stood at the kitchen door and assigned tasks until I was the only one left without a job. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, taking my sweet time until the others departed.
“What do you have for me today, boss?” I asked, putting more sass in my voice now that we were alone.
“Congrats.” Grayson, on the other hand, had the same dry tone as he’d had for everyone else. “You were so good at stall mucking that you get to do that again with an added task of cobwebbing.”
“Cobwebbing?” I grabbed my coat from the row of hooks by the door. The poor thing was way dirtier than it had been yesterday morning.
“Dusting the stalls.” Grayson clomped toward the barn, movements stiff. Why didn’t he use a cane on bad days? I knew better than to voice that question, though, so I stayed quiet and watched my breath hang in the air on the walk to the barn. Once inside, Grayson fetched a large duster on a telescoping pole.