Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
After months of planning, Dad decided to replace the barbwire fence along the county road. If someone crashed into it again, only their vehicle would get damaged, and we wouldn’t risk losing our cattle again.
Dylan’s excitement brings me back to our conversation. “I’ve never been to Key West before, so as soon as I won, I did some browsing online. If it’s half as fun as it looks, I might never come back! The nightlife, the beaches, the views,” he rambles on. “You’re gonna thank me that I dragged your ass along.” Dylan beams as we head back to the main house.
“I haven’t agreed to go yet,” I remind him. “Depends if we can get off work or not. Might need to smooth talk Dad a little first,” I say, knowing that if we don’t get ahead of schedule, we’ll never get approval to both take off for two weeks. “Or maybe a lot. Duties have to be done rain or shine, and if I’m not there, that means someone else has to do it.”
“I’m gonna go buy him a bottle of Crown Royal Reserve.” Dylan chuckles.
“To butter him up or get him wasted?” I laugh.
“Both,” Dylan tells me.
I park the truck in the driveway and see Mama unloading groceries from the back of her car. Dylan and I rush out to help her.
“Mama, you shoulda called me,” I scold. “I would’ve come sooner.” I reach into the trunk, trying to grab as many bags as possible. Dylan stands next to me, doing the same, so we don’t have to make a second trip.
“I knew you were busy. It’s no big deal,” she says sweetly, walking ahead of us to hold the front door open.
As soon as I enter, I see Jackson sleeping on the couch with his boots on, snoring loudly. After I set the bags down on the kitchen table, I walk quietly into the living room, and Dylan follows behind silently.
I get real close to his face, watching his chest rise and fall and wait for just the right moment before yelling, “FIRE!”
His body jolts up, his feet kicking in the air. With beet red cheeks, his eyes gaze over the living room. “What the fuck, Alex?” he barks, scrubbing his hands over his face.
In no time, Mama comes storming from the kitchen with a wooden spoon in one hand and glares down at Jackson.
“I’ve got a bar of soap with your name on it if you keep using that language in my house, young man,” she scolds, fearlessly.
I cross my arms over my chest and smirk.
“Mama,” he begins, but she’s quick to shut him up.
“Hush. Get your boots off the furniture, too.” She walks away before Jackson can argue some more.
“Wakey, wakey, asshole,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.
As soon as Mama is out of sight, he brushes his fingers through his hair, trying to process what just happened. “You bastard,” he mutters to me. “You nearly made me shit myself.”
I scoff. “Good. That’s payback for me having to work on replacing that damn fence today. You should be out there fixing your own damn mess,” I tell him.
“Oh sure, then you can be the one to train the horses and do all the guided tours for the guests at the B&B.”
I grimace at the mention of the Circle B Bed and Breakfast that he helps manage on the ranch.
“That’s what I thought,” Jackson mocks. “Be glad you were building fences, little brother.” He says the words with venom laced in his tone. I know Jackson loves working on the ranch, but there’s working with horses, and then there’s working with people. In Jackson’s case, he’s better off working with the horses.
As soon as he stands up from the couch, Evan comes bursting through the front door with a scowl on his face. “I owe you,” Evan hisses with a finger pointed directly in Jackson’s face. “Do you have any idea how much work replacing that damn fence is?”
I clear my throat, satisfied to see Jackson getting what he deserves. I glare at him, but all he does is smirk.
“Both of you need to chill out,” Jackson says with a laugh, not taking either of us seriously.
“Boys!” Mama yells from the kitchen, breaking the tension in the room. It’s like she has a sixth sense about us and tends to break up fights before they can truly begin.
Evan rolls his eyes before walking toward the kitchen. Dylan and I follow closely behind him, leaving Jackson in the living room, unharmed—this time.
As soon as we round the corner, I see Mama throwing the breaded chicken into a pan, then placing homemade cornbread into the oven. Before speaking, she rinses her hands, dries them off, and then wipes her blonde hair from her eyes with the back of her hand.