Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
I felt my lips twitch into a small smile.
“Umm,” I hesitated. “No. I don’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think so?”
I had a feeling that I’d just jerked his chain. Poked the bear. Grabbed the tiger by the tail.
“I think that she’d give you a run for your money,” I finally decided on.
He scooped up another scoop of poop, and once again I was hit with the thought that he wasn’t a little kid anymore.
No.
Definitely not a little kid anymore.
He had rippling ab muscles, a strong, hard jaw.
And he was so much like his brothers now that it physically hurt.
“When did you grow up?” I blurted.
He looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye as he sat the shovel next to the trash can, then lifted the damn thing like it was a feather instead of filled to the brim with shit and other stuff.
“I grew up when I was too young,” he admitted. “I just grew into my body, though.”
With that he left, taking the trash can to wherever they went to dump it.
I moved on to the next stall just as he was back with the trash can.
And so, it went, for five stalls.
Until finally it was all done, I was sweaty as hell, and Banks was standing there looking at me like he loved me.
“What?” I panted, wiping the sweat off my face.
His gaze went to my hands.
“You’re going to have a blister tomorrow,” he surmised.
“I’m going to have a blister right now,” I amended, showing him my hand. “And I’m fairly sure I’m having a heat stroke. I’m going to have to go home and change before I go to any other job sites.”
“Why do you think I’m in my underwear?” Darby drawled.
Banks looked at him, then looked back to me.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said finally. “Are y’all almost done?”
“Fuck yeah,” Darby said. “This is the last stall. Ol’ Petunia here is a little scrapper. I think she mucks stalls out better than Ace does.”
“I highly doubt that,” Ace said, coming to stand in the stall’s doorway next to his brother. “She’s got puny arms.”
He showed us his guns, and I had to admit, I did have puny arms compared to Ace’s mammoth ones.
Then again, Banks’ guns were just as big as his big brother’s.
Banks, seeing where my thoughts had drifted, winked at me and gestured for me to follow.
“Uh, I’ll finish,” I said. “Be there in a few.”
With that, Banks and Ace left, leaving me alone with Darby.
“You’re good for him, you know?” Darby said softly so that Banks wouldn’t overhear.
I flicked my eyes up to meet his, and a small smile graced my face.
“I feel like he’s good for me,” I said. “Sometimes, I have to pinch myself to tell myself that I’m not dreaming.”
His eyes went back to his scooping.
“If he’s what you want, you shouldn’t let him do anything stupid,” he finally settled on. “Banks, for all his good-natured ribbing, is a good guy. He loves us, would do anything for us, but doesn’t expect the same for himself.” He paused. “He’s riding bulls, making bank, then funneling it all right back into the ranch. I don’t think Ace or Callum really know why we got into the black as fast as we did after we moved back home, but it’s because of Banks. Every single penny he makes gets sunk back into this place.” He paused. “We ended up getting our mother and father’s life insurance policy payout. But what really kept us afloat was Banks.”
That didn’t surprise me one bit, to be honest.
“That sounds like your brother,” I replied softly, scooping the very last of the dirt and muck out of the stall.
Darby repeated his towing of shit, and met me around the back of the horse stalls and said, “I gotta get them feed and hay and…”
“I’ll get the feed,” I said. “You get the hay.”
“Why not you get the hay?” he teased.
I gave him a droll look.
“Mostly because it takes everything I have to pick up a fifty-pound bag of chicken feed. A bale of hay is likely not ever going to happen. At least if you want to do breakfast while it’s still hot.”
He started laughing, and we split up once again, finishing out his morning chores before walking shoulder to shoulder into the house.
I walked to the kitchen sink and washed my hands, unsurprised to find everyone still waiting for us to eat.
I grinned at Banks, who had a plate loaded next to him with all of my favorites.
“Wow,” I said, wiping my brow with a paper towel. “Looks wonderful.”
Darby arrived back, freshly washed and still in his boxer shorts.
“Let’s eat,” he said.
I reached for the best thing on my plate.
I bit down on a thick piece of bacon and nearly died.
I didn’t even get a good chew in before I was spitting the bacon out.