Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
By the time I’d finished my first cup of coffee, my palm lifted to my clean-shaven cheek. The simple effort of shaving changed the entire shape of my jawline.
As I rose for a second cup, I heard the distant sounds of a diesel engine. Moments later, I spotted the first of the two arrivals of the day. Where my house sat compared to the land’s terrain, I had a couple of minutes before their arrival, so I headed inside for that second cup.
As if I had perfect timing, I was back through the front door, taking the porch steps down, and gingerly walking barefooted over the small rocks of the circular driveway as they pulled up. If I remembered correctly, Wyatt and Scout would arrive first. Grayson and Bryce planned to show up later in the day. Remarkably, my best four childhood friends had managed to stay connected through the years. The group of guys couldn’t have turned out more differently, but they shared a common bond even as life spread them all over the world. This annual vacation was the one thing they’d committed to years ago that put them in the same place, at the same time.
As the loud dually engine pulled forward, I pointed Wyatt and Scout toward the end of the driveway, closer to the attached garage. I moved my tender feet over the rocks to greet them, mentally berating myself for not taking the minute to shove my feet into my slide-ons.
“Hey, man,” Wyatt called, jumping out of the driver’s seat. He was the only one of them to retain the deep Texas accent, and the only one to stay in our hometown to follow his family’s farming legacy. He managed a hundred thousand acres of land.
“Hey. Like the ride,” I said, stopping at the hood of my Jeep Wrangler, nodding toward the truck. Wyatt paused at the rear of the truck’s bed, clasping a leather duffle bag.
“I got you,” Wyatt said. The leather bag was dropped at Wyatt’s feet, he rifled through it to pull out a pair of sliders, tossing them to me. I didn’t hesitate to put them on.
“Thanks. I was beating myself up for not grabbing mine before meeting y’all out here.”
Wyatt was the charming one with his genuine cowboy charisma. He wore jeans with rips at the knee, no doubt made by hard work, not manufactured. His ever-present baseball cap was pushed back off his forehead, showing his youth. The youngest of them.
“Been there, buddy. Except I had to make it through a sticker patch with no shoes.” Wyatt reached me about the time I got the second shoe on. Strong, muscular arms wrapped tightly around me, drawing me close, making me quickly adjust my coffee cup as the liquid splashed from the sides. “Good to be here.”
“Yeah, I needed this too,” I murmured, grinning at Scout over Wyatt’s shoulder. “Hey, man.”
Scout grinned, which was always a little jarring that his hard, stoic features could stretch that way. He was confident, assured of who he was as a person. His slightly bowlegged strut worked its way through his entire body, making his movements appear fluid and purposeful. He was the hunter. Which technically wasn’t that far from the truth. His tendency toward quietness grew more pronounced with each year he stayed enlisted in the armed forces.
When Scout got within reach, I grasped his outstretched hand before he drew me in for a more relaxed hug. It was a shoulder bump, but it meant the same thing.
“Good to see you,” I said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it this year.”
“Yup,” Scout answered as a complete nonanswer. “You look more Hollywood every time I see you.”
“What? I think I blend pretty well here,” I shot out, waving my hands, indicating all of our clothing was the same, T-shirts and jeans. “How was the drive?”
“Picked Scout up at DFW airport and drove straight through about five hours,” Wyatt said as he went to the back of his truck again, unceremoniously pulling out three bags, tossing two to Scout.
“You guys tired?” I asked.
“Nah, not too bad. We took turns sleepin’,” Wyatt explained, starting for the front porch. “You agree?”
“Yup,” Scout said easily, trailing behind. They were all close to each other, but Wyatt and Scout were as close as brothers. They were comfortable together, no matter how different they were as people.
“Cool, drop your bags in whichever room you want, except my room. Do what you need to do. I’m gonna take a quick shower. I need some breakfast. Tommy says there’s a hole-in-the-wall breakfast place we can eat at close to the liquor store in Mountain Bend. They couldn’t deliver because of a festival or something they’re having nearby. Can’t have my alcoholic buddies running out of beer like we did last year. Figured we’d get it out of the way,” I said, walking through the front door, holding it open until Scout came through.