Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
When I turned, Maclain “Mac” Gentry was standing in front of me. He was tall like Rand, six five, and 240 pounds of hard muscle. I knew that because I overheard him tell one of the men once. It was funny, the height thing; it never bothered me to have to look up to Rand, but it bugged the hell out of me that Mac was bigger than me, more thickly muscled, with broader shoulders and a wider chest. I felt small in comparison to the foreman of the Red Diamond, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Move,” I groused, meaning to brush by, only to have him take firm hold of my bicep. I snapped my head up, and my eyes met his smoky gray gaze.
“I don’t want you on this drive if you’re going to whine the whole time.”
Even though he was giving me the same grief he always did, I found myself focusing on the way the faint light from the porch caught in his dirty-blond hair, sparking over the stubble on his cheeks and upper lip, caressing his brows and the tips of his long lashes. With my dark hair, I was lost in the shadows. But not him, not in all his golden glory.
“Don’t worry,” I snarled, mad at myself for even noticing how roughly handsome the man was, and yanking my arm free with more force than needed. “I swear none of y’all will hear a word outta me.”
He scowled, and I walked away. I didn’t have time for his macho bullshit. We had established from our initial meeting, when Mac looked at me like I was the most useless person on the face of the planet, that we would never get along. Zach he liked because he worked on the ranch with Rand. My father he liked because he owned a ranch just like Rand. But me, the guy who quit ranching to own a restaurant, me he didn’t understand, and so he didn’t like me. Not that I cared. Maclain Gentry was a dick, and I had no use for him either.
Returning to the tables, I put my gear down by everyone else’s and then took a spot at the end so I could eat. It was going to be a long drive, and I needed sustenance.
I didn’t ride with Rand and Mac and Zach because I didn’t want to get into it with any of them. Instead, I rode in the truck with Pierce, Chase, and Tom. Dusty and his cousin Rebel—I swear to God, only in Texas—and a guy named Ed, whom I didn’t know, were riding in the third truck, with Mac, Rand, and Zach in the first truck, leading the way. There was one extra guy in each—in ours it was Slater, whom I liked because he barely spoke—and that person was responsible for driving the trucks and trailers back as soon as the men and horses were unloaded at our final destination.
We were missing Everett, one of Rand’s best guys. Everett and his wife, Regina, were brand-new parents, and he wanted to stay with her and their new baby girl. Since his daughter was just three days home from the hospital, Rand said of course he could stay behind. I was sure he remembered bringing his own son home and what that felt like.
Rand’s half sister, my cousin Charlotte, had given Rand and Stef the gift of an egg, and they’d had a surrogate carry the child for them. Wyatt James Holloway was born in the middle of July and had just celebrated his second birthday four months ago. I didn’t see him often, as I was not much for being at the ranch, but it was cute how he waved goodbye to all of us as we got into the trucks. He was an adorable little boy, even if he did look like a miniature Rand with his jet-black hair, but with the dark-blue eyes Charlotte shared with her father, not the turquoise Rand shared with mine.
I could tell the leaving was hard on Rand. The tightness in his jaw, the way he held his son and clutched at Stef…he didn’t like going one bit. I knew Rand would stay home all the time if he had his druthers; it was his favorite place to be. Being away from Stef was always hard for him, and now there was his son as well. All things considered, I was looking at pain when he turned to leave with us.
When Stef called him back, he whirled around and ran. They made a nice picture there on the porch, Stef with his hand on Rand’s chest and Rand’s on his cheek, the toddler between them as Rand bent and kissed Stef’s forehead. He seemed better when he finally joined us, but then everything was gone—the sadness, the yearning, all of it—as his mask slid into place. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t let anyone see him vulnerable, except Stefan. He was all walled up before we got underway.