Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He sits down, tightens the strings, then looks at Wade. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Wade nods and starts playing an older country song about a man being left by his love with only his horse. Aren’t they all?
Porter joins in, and it makes the sound richer. I try not to stare at his relaxed features when he’s playing. Instead, I focus on his weathered hands and battered knuckles from years working on ranches. I remember how those same fingers on my body—sometimes gentle, sometimes rough—were able to make it sing. Porter being inside me made the world disappear like nothing else ever has. So much so that my hand would find my dick and replay those moments over the years to try and chase that same feeling.
The men start singing the country song out of tune, which nobody minds. Porter’s lips never move, and I wonder if it’s different when he plays open mic at the bars. I want to ask but dare not mention it and break the spell we’re all under. The mood is one of camaraderie, making these cowpokes a family. Even Randy, who’s guzzled enough water to make me feel better about his eventual drive home.
When Pixie runs from the porch to join in, she brings a youthful energy that makes some of the men laugh. We spend the next hour belting out familiar songs, and even my parents watch from the porch, smiles on their faces.
By the time Wade tires of his harmonica, there are only embers remaining in the firepit and the moon is high in the night sky.
Pixie is asleep in Randy’s lap, and the men start making their way to the bunkhouse, knowing the morning will be here soon enough. I stand and stretch just as Porter returns from putting his guitar away. He helps clean up and put out the fire.
When Randy thinks no one is watching, he pulls a flask from inside his coat pocket and takes a swig. I open my mouth to say something, but Porter’s hand on my arm stills me. We watch as Pixie rouses, as if she either recognizes the sound or just knows instinctually.
“Daddy, please. Are you okay to drive home?” she asks in a hoarse voice, and because I feel like I’m witnessing a private conversation, I turn away.
“Of course I am. Let’s get you to bed.”
He lifts her in his arms, and I’m still halfway turned as Porter meets him at his truck. “She can always stay overnight. I’m sure the Sullivans won’t mind.”
“Get the hell out of my way, Porter. You saw me drinking water for the past hour.”
“True,” Porter replies in an unsteady voice. “But I won’t be able to rest unless I know she’s safe. Let me and Pixie follow you home.”
“How dare you—”
“Randy!” I step toward them before it comes to blows. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let him drive her home.”
Pixie must like that idea because she struggles in his arms until he sets her down. “It’ll be okay, Daddy. See you at home in a bit.”
I can see the rage in Randy’s eyes, and though I know this is all about his bruised ego, he should be glad the others aren’t around to witness this. Though his animosity toward Porter will no doubt double.
He hops in the driver’s seat and presses angrily on the gas, revving the engine.
My eyes meet Porter’s. “I can take her if—”
“Be back in a few,” he responds curtly, then helps Pixie into his truck.
My gut churns the whole time they’re gone, and I don’t move from the bench in front of the firepit until I hear the wheels on the gravel about thirty minutes later.
I stand unsteadily as Porter parks and exits the truck.
“All good?”
He nods, and then we breathe the same air for a few tense seconds.
“Glad to hear it.”
I turn toward the ranch house when he says, “Bishop.”
I meet his eyes, see the roiling emotions in his irises.
“You know I was exaggerating earlier with those stories, right?”
That familiar ache in my chest flares up. “You mean, you didn’t fuck the owner’s son?”
He averts his eyes. “Well, that part…that was true.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I dig my fingernails into my palms.
“It wasn’t the same…” His gaze finds mine again. “As you and me.”
My heart clangs against my rib cage. Fucking hell, Porter.
I don’t need him to placate me. I can’t, won’t, let him see how unnerved I am. I don’t want to feel ruined by this man again.
I try to steady my trembling hands. “You mean as boss and employee?”
His face falls briefly before his expression transforms into that familiar cocky smirk. “Right. Sure. See you in the mornin’, boss.”
Chapter 12
Porter
It’s August, the hottest month of summer, and Sully and I have kept our friendly, boss-employee relationship going pretty well. I catch him watching me, especially when I’m out with Storm. When I look his way, sometimes he’ll immediately move on like he hadn’t been doing what he was doing, but others, he’ll give me that half-smile he’s known for, the right side always kicking up more than the left, and just keep staring like he’s daring me to call him on it.