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)
“I’m hardly qualified to be a cowhand.” I tried not to sound like the words made my lips curl up in derision. All I could think was my father’s knowing smirk when he found out. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Oscar waved his slender fingers as if it didn’t matter. “Boone said he needs someone willing to do hard work around the ranch. No brains needed. In fact, they’re seen as a hindrance in this case, so you’re good to go.”
James chastised him for the jibe, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Instead, I was actually considering the offer. I’d been honest when I’d said physical work didn’t bother me… at least in theory. I had no idea what ranch work really entailed, of course, but Oscar’s earlier comment made me picture shirtless cowboys throwing hay bales around for fun. If that was what it was like… how hard could “hard work” really be? Surely nothing that seeing a personal trainer five days a week on top of Pilates and yoga to stay limber wouldn’t prepare me for. I was a healthy male in my twenties, for god’s sake.
Plus, he’d said it included room and board, and I was tired of couch surfing. Having my own place sounded pretty good right about now. Especially if I didn’t have to pay for it.
But really, more than anything else, I really, really just wanted to wipe that damn smirk off Oscar’s face.
“I’ll do it,” I said, firming my chin to keep from looking as unsure as I felt.
It was worth it just to see the genuine surprise in Oscar’s expression. For a minute, I thought I saw a flash of respect in his eyes. “Do you mean that? Or are you going to come up with some sort of excuse the second you leave here?”
My cheeks burned. The thought might have crossed my mind, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. “I mean it.”
James leaned toward me, his expression concerned. “Richard, Oscar’s just pushing your buttons. He’d be glad to help you without any conditions.” He turned to glare at his friend. “Right, Oscar?”
I could tell from James’s voice that he wasn’t sure I could do it either. That stung more than any of Oscar’s barbs.
I didn’t give Oscar a chance to respond. “No, I said I’ll do it, and I will. One month helping your friend, then you help me find a real job. That’s the deal.”
Oscar nodded. “That’s the deal. Work for Boone for a month, and I’ll know you’re someone I can stake my reputation on. And if you don’t last a month… well, that will tell me everything I need to know about you and your work ethic.”
I opened my mouth, prepared to tell him exactly where he could shove his reputation, when the server arrived with my order. I thanked her and took my bag. By then, James had also stood. “I’ll walk you out.” It was clear he was trying to prevent the situation between Oscar and me from growing any more tense.
Oscar looked up at me from his seat, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It was clear he still doubted me, but I was determined to prove him—and James and everyone else—wrong.
“Send the details to my—” I was about to say secretary when I remembered that I didn’t have a secretary anymore. “Cell phone,” I added lamely. “James has my number.”
James hooked his arm through mine and steered me from the restaurant before Oscar had a chance to respond. Once we were outside, James turned and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Oscar means well. He really does.”
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
His forehead creased in concern. “Do you want me to tell him to back off?”
Yes. Except I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than having James go intervene with Oscar on my behalf. Again. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
I nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. I decided to change the subject. “Have you had any thoughts about this year’s IceCon costume?”
His eyes lit up. “You have no idea. I want to go big this year. And when I say big, I mean—” He spread his hands wide, waving his fingers. He quirked an eyebrow. “You think you have it in you?”
I’d been helping design and construct James’s IceCon and other sci-fi convention costumes for years, ever since we started dating. They’d gone over so well that several of his friends had begun to come to me for their costumes as well. It was one of my favorite times of year, when I got to indulge in my love of fashion and design without limits. “Send me your thoughts, and I’ll start sketching some ideas. I’ve already been thinking of ways to coordinate yours and Sawyer’s costumes. Plus, I’ve been doing some research into some super cutting-edge fabrics that I can’t wait to incorporate. The two of you are going to look hot.”