Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
The owner of the boots set his hands on his hips and glanced from me to Jed, to Birdie, to the truck with Hank in it, before coming back to me.
“The strong, silent type, I see,” he muttered under his breath before shooting me a thousand-watt smile. “Can I get some help with my things? Perhaps you have someone who…” He waved a hand at the truck expectantly.
I lifted an eyebrow. I had no idea what things the man needed help with, but he was damn fine to look at.
When I didn’t immediately jump to assist, he made an impatient noise. “Or a trolly, perhaps?”
I lifted my other eyebrow.
“Perhaps not,” he said with a sigh. “Fine. I am capable of hard work, no matter what certain people think.” The man moved around the back of the truck and pulled ineffectively at the tailgate. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge, given that it was dented all to hell. He stepped back, eyeing the truck like it was a puzzle that needed solving. “Excuse me,” he finally said as Hank lumbered from the driver’s seat. “Is there, like, a ladder or a step stool I might be able to make use of?”
Hank laughed. Beside me, Jed snorted.
The newcomer scowled at them before attempting to climb onto the rear bumper. Except that his jeans were so tight he could barely lift his leg high enough.
Jed shifted beside me as if he might move to help the man, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. The stranger was a pleasant distraction from my clusterfuck of a day. I wanted to see what he would do next… and I was also really enjoying the way his exertions molded his too-tight jeans to his ass, accentuating the curve of his cheeks. It was a mighty fine view.
I watched him in tired fascination until Hank approached to shake my hand, blocking my view.
“Good to see you, man. Congrats on the expansion. Tommy Prescott mentioned you’re adding a couple of hundred head to the herd. Business must be good.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
We stood side by side, watching as the stranger tested his weight on the truck’s bumper and then hopped around on one foot, trying to get enough momentum to vault up into the truck bed. He finally made it on the fourth try, and I had to suppress the urge to applaud.
“Who’s this, then?” I asked, nodding toward the guy. “Friend of yours?”
Hank’s eyes widened comically. “Me? Nah, he’s here for you. I dropped Joe Perkins off at the airport so he could visit his daughter in Kansas City, and this guy was just standing at the curb, surrounded by bags. Asked me if Mr. Boone from the Silver Fork had sent me, and I said no, but I offered him a lift anyways. Says his name is Richie.”
Richie? I racked my overworked brain, but I couldn’t recall anyone by that name. And I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten that face, no matter how tired I was.
The man—Richie—hoisted a brown-on-brown print suitcase over the edge of the truck bed and carefully lowered it to the ground. It was followed by three more matching bags of various shapes and sizes. And then two duffles, one a glittery blue and the other an iridescent clear.
I blinked. The man had luggage?
“He moving in?” Jed asked beside me. I shook my head wordlessly.
Hank shrugged. “Dunno. Sounded like he’s from back east—New York, maybe—and real hoity-toity-like. I thought maybe he was family come for a visit or some such.”
New York? Hoity-toity? Suddenly, I remembered the call with Oscar… and his rich friend who needed to be taught a lesson about hard work for a month.
The one I’d forgotten all about because I’d figured he wouldn’t actually show up.
I sighed and closed my eyes, my amusement dying as the man went from being a sexy, amusing distraction to yet another problem I had to handle. I did not have time for this shit. Oscar had taken advantage of my temporary warm feelings of nostalgia by getting me to agree to hiring on a greenhorn, and this man wasn’t even a greenhorn. He was… whatever kind of horn was worse than a greenhorn.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Mmhm,” Jed agreed. “You got that right.”
“Here’s the thing…” I started, turning to gently inform my foreman that this guy was his problem, not mine.
Jed held up a callused and dirty hand to cut me off. “No, sir. Don’t even think about it. I’m not babysitting some charity project you got going on. I got real work to do. It’s fucking calving season, boss.”
As if I hadn’t been up all night dealing with several difficult deliveries. As if I wasn’t currently covered in goddamned blood and various other crap from helping deal with calving issues all day. I was dead on my feet.