Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Why don’t we let Fox decide what he wants to do with his life?” Bull said quietly, setting the paper down. “Come on, let’s eat. Today’s the start of our spring opening.” He hated that Fox wouldn’t be here for it when he’d worked so hard to help put it together.
Dale joined them about midway through breakfast, not bothering to make himself a proper plate. Instead, he shoved some eggs and a few pieces of bacon between two pancakes, doused it with maple syrup, and ate it like a sandwich. “Mornin’,” he said with his mouth full.
“Hey,” Bull managed.
A dreary silence fell over the room, a startling difference to what they’d grown used to over the past few months. Bull shoveled his grits and eggs into his mouth, not tasting it but eating it anyway because he’d need the energy.
“You gonna have the guys bring out the Clydesdales early, right?” Bull droned, asking an unnecessary question of his foreman.
Dale stopped chewing the last of his sandwich, then cocked one thick brow at him. “Is this what I gotta deal with all day?”
“What?”
Bull wasn’t worried about whatever Dale was griping about as he lifted his coffee mug to his mouth. The sound of tires crunching over gravel made him freeze with the rim almost touching his lips.
“Thank fuck.” Dale grinned before racing to the front door. “I was not trying to look at your sad-ass face all day.” He flung the front door open, holding his arms out wide. “Now I don’t have to. He’s back! And in a damn U-Haul.”
Bull’s ass was still glued to his seat, his stomach anxiously churning the food he’d just eaten.
“What you waitin’ on, boy?” His dad smiled, shoving his shoulder.
“He chose you, Bull.” Amelia got up from the table and went to the large dining room window. “After all that fuss those guys put up for him, he still came right back to you.”
Fox barely got his small moving truck into park before Dale was tearing open the driver’s-side door and damn near yanking him to the ground.
“I guess you’re not as dumb as I thought you were.” Dale grinned. “You made the right choice.”
Fox leaned on the side of the hood, feeling dead on his feet. He didn’t even have a snappy comeback for Dale, he was so exhausted.
“Of course you’d own something like this,” Dale said, standing at the end of the attached hitch that held his sleek, black motorcycle. “Overcompensating ass…”
“A man needs more toys than just his violins,” Fox murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said on an exhale.
“You need some help unloading this?”
“There really ain’t much in there. I’m renting my place furnished, so that made packing pretty easy.”
Dale stood staring at the truck. “Man, did I misjudge you.”
Fox was too tired to say “I fuckin’ tried to tell your ass.”
“I’m glad you stayed, Fox.” Dale walked up to him and shook his hand with a strong grip. “It’s where you belong.”
I couldn’t agree more. Fox turned at the sound of the screen door slamming closed. Bull stood on the porch looking as if he’d gotten the same amount of sleep as him last night—none.
Without a word, they both began walking towards each other. Fox slid his arms around Bull’s waist and closed his eyes as he tucked him to his warm chest. Bull moaned like he was in agony, squeezing him as if he couldn’t believe he’d come back.
“You look like hell,” Fox said against Bull’s throat, inhaling the scent of roast coffee and sandalwood, his natural fragrance in the morning. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”
“I slept like a baby, thank you.”
“Yeah, me too,” Fox lied, unable to release Bull yet. Eight hours ago, he’d been dodging bullets and fighting a war in the streets of Atlanta and doing everything in his power to make it back home safely.
Bull wrapped one arm around Fox’s hip and tugged, making him hiss at the sharp pain that tore through his right side. Bull jerked his hands away, scowling down at him before he brought his palm to his cheek. “What happened?” he demanded, his eyes full of worry. “Did you get hurt?”
“No. Not at all. I’m just tired.”
“Then why’d you grunt like that?” Dale stood off to the side, watching him. “I don’t make that kind of noise when I’m tired. I do when I get kicked in the thigh by a horse.”
“Shut the hell up, Dale.” Fox glowered in his direction. “Who cares if you don’t.”
“I’m just saying.” Dale shrugged.
“Fox.” Bull caressed his jaw, his gaze holding and waiting for answers.
“It was just a little run-in I had with a metal bench. It’s a bruise—it’s nothing.”
“Shit. Come inside.” Bull gingerly held him around his shoulders.
“Don’t go overboard. I just need a few hours of sleep because I’m running on fumes right about now.”
“Boss, you go handle your business. I got you,” Dale said, already walking away.