Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Come on, my love.” I kiss her head and nudge her toward her bedroom, where Brady’s waiting with a book on standby. It’s become his nightly routine to read her a story or have her read with him before bed, and it melts my heart every time.
Tonight, though, he’s not on the bed, but sitting in a chair next to it, because he’s also filthy.
“You go get in the shower,” he says with a smile. “I’ve got this.”
“You’re the best.” I kiss his cheek, then Daisy’s, and head for my own shower.
I don’t remember the last time I was this dirty, and it kind of makes me laugh as I start the water and then get under the spray. Working at the ranch is hard, filthy work.
In less than fifteen minutes, after I’ve brushed out my own hair and put on my moisturizer, I pad over to Daisy’s room and find the light off and Brady gone.
So, I walk downstairs, and there he is, in the kitchen, pouring me a glass of wine.
“You should grab a shower now,” I say as I accept the glass from him. “You did the most work, and you’re last to shower. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“My girls get taken care of first,” he replies and kisses my lips softly. “Always. But I’ll go do that and meet you back here.”
“Deal.” I grin, watching him walk away. The man fills out those Ranchers perfectly. And it’s not lost on me that he has a bit of a limp and looks like he’s sore.
All of his injuries play through my mind. Of course, he’s sore. He has to ache more than he lets on, especially after a physically grueling day like today.
Hopefully, that hot shower feels good and helps soothe his poor body.
I grab a few ibuprofen and pour a couple fingers of whiskey and then settle on the couch with my computer.
Now that I know there are videos on YouTube, I can’t wait to watch them.
I go ahead and open the browser, search his name, and gasp at the hundreds of videos that pop up.
Brady Wild Wins Second World Championship.
Brady Wild: an Extensive Interview with the Montana Bull-Riding Legend.
Brady Wild: What’s Inside My Gear Bag?
Dave Fisby Talks to Brady Wild about His Near-Fatal Accident.
I swallow hard at that one.
A Look Into the Life of a Real Rodeo Cowboy: Brady Wild.
The list goes on and on. Interviews, a day in the life, and so many rides caught on film.
I could go down this rabbit hole for days and never see everything. But something at the bottom of the page catches my eye.
Death of Dirks Johnson, an Intimate Interview with Brady Wild.
Tears fill my eyes, and I can feel Brady move up behind me and lay his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t watch that one tonight,” he says softly before leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Not until after the season is over. Okay?”
“Okay.” I sip my wine and gaze up at him as he circles around the couch and sits next to me. “I have ibuprofen and whiskey for you. Which do you want first?”
“Both.” He pops the meds into his mouth and then swallows it down with the whiskey, making me cringe.
“I’m sure your body is grateful for that.”
“It is,” he says, laughing at my sarcasm. “I checked on Daisy. She’s snoring.”
I chuckle at that and reach up to push my fingers through his wet, dark hair. “She does that when she’s overly tired. How long into the story did she last?”
“Roughly half a page.” He grins down at me. His hazel eyes are heavy with fatigue.
“Do you get to sleep in tomorrow, or do you have to be at the ranch early?” I ask him.
“There aren’t many days off with ranch life,” he replies with a sigh. “Besides, I’ll be gone for a while, and the guys will have to pick up my slack, so I’ll be out there most of tomorrow, starting early.”
“I’m sorry.”
He scowls down at me. “Why the hell are you sorry?”
“Because you have to drive so far to get there every day. We’ll have to figure something else out. Although, I’m not kicking you out of my bed, so staying apart isn’t one of the options.”
“Good.” He settles me back against him, my back to his front, and kisses my hair. “Because that’s not an option for me, either. Now, what do you want to see?”
“I didn’t know that there would be so many,” I admit.
“I’ve been doing this a long time. Fourteen years, professionally. So, yeah, there’s plenty to watch.”
“You won the world championship twice?”
“Three times,” he says with pride.
“Where are all of your belt buckles and trophies?”
“In totes. I don’t have the space to display them. I keep a couple out to wear when I’m working, but otherwise, they’re just stored away.”