A few of the guys laugh, making jokes about me being a male nanny—manny—and not one of them offers up a fishing rod. I lean on the doorframe, letting Rob’s words hang in the air until the laughter has waned. Poor guyactuallythinks he’s funny.
Tracing my fingers along the roughened-up oak doorframe, I say, “For somebody whose only relationship is withhis right hand, you’re real fuckin’ worried about what I got going on.”
I ignore whatever bullshit Rob spouts in retaliation and step outside, letting the door click softly closed behind me. It’s warmer and the air feels lighter out here than in the bunkhouse—more sun soaked, less beer drenched.
Though a number of the guys who live there are older than me, I’m really starting to feel too old for this shit. Maybe it’s watching my closest friends and brother all find love or maybe it’s the constant nattering from my mom about finding anice girlto settle down with.
Thankfully, a quick stop in at the big house is all that’s needed to acquire an extra fishing rod. Arguably, I should’ve gone there in the first place. Neither Austin nor any of the women working in the kitchen batted an eye at my request, and nobody heckled me for hanging out with a kid today.
Besides, what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Not like I could look the ten-year-old in the eye and say, “Sorry, kid. Tough luck, your dad’s apparently a real piece of shit. Not my problem, though.”
My mom would backhand me for screwing over that kid. And the last thing I ever want to do is disappoint the person who means the absolute world to me. Not to mention, I have an intimate understanding of Jonas’s situation, since I grew up with a dad who was almost always out of town for rodeos or cowboy work.
We were lucky enough to live in a separate house on my uncle’s farm, so Mom had some help, and I’m sure that’s really what saved her from losing her mind. Because even when Dad was home, he didn’t know how to manage a wife and two kids, and I don’t think he cared enough to want to learn.
Sure, my parents were—and still are—married on paper, but for all intents and purposes, my mom is a single mom. Which is why it wasn’t surprising that she insisted on movingcloser to Wells Canyon when my brother, Beau, and I started working at Wells Ranch.
Whit mentioned having her dad and sister to lean on, but I also know her mom is sick, so resources are probably stretched a bit thin. I couldn’tnotoffer to take the kid fishing. I would’ve offered damn near anything when Whit’s eyes met mine—a pair of glassy emeralds filled with so much anguish it made my heart sink.
Betty, the traitor, makes the bold choice to stay behind with Odessa, even after I offer her a puppuccino.Her loss.Climbing into the driver’s seat, I toss my stuff across the bench and turn the key on my trusty single-cab pickup. She thunders to life, filling the sweet summer air with diesel exhaust, and I start down the dusty dirt road.
• • •
While it was warm at the ranch, it’s unbearable in the town of Wells Canyon. Could cook an egg on the hot pavement. An awful day for catching fish, since they’ll all be as close to the cool lake bottom as they can get, but I won’t be the second adult to bail on this kid today.
After three short raps on the black front door, I step back and run a hand through my hair right as Whit appears.
Out of breath and with a few beads of sweat dotting her hairline, she says, “You’re early. Um, Jonas is still getting ready—come in.”
It’s a little after ten a.m. on a Saturday morning, yet I didn’t consider that Whit might not be wearing work-appropriate clothes. I definitely wasn’t expecting a black sports bra and running shorts that skim the tops of her thighs. Her hair’s pulled back in a high ponytail, and without makeup on, she’s all freckles and flushed cheeks. Presumably, my early arrival interrupted her workout.
Whit steps aside to hold the door wider, letting me into the house, before turning on her heel and heading for thekitchen. Over her shoulder, she says, “I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon after I texted you.”
My jaw sags and I realize I’m fucking panting at the sight of her walking away. I knew she was beautiful. But this…damn.There’s a natural sway of her hips that causes her loose shorts to flutter over her ass, exposing the intimate space where her thighs meet her ass.
I let the front door fall shut, still staring at her ass as she fills a glass of water from the kitchen faucet. I can’t stand here eye-fucking her forever. At least, not if I don’t want her to chop my balls off—which I fear she’ll do if she catches me staring. So I do my best to pick my jaw up off the floor and form a coherent thought in my malfunctioning brain.
“Yeah, I was trying to beat the meat—”That was the coherent thought?!“Heat.I was trying to beat the heat.”
“Your shirt gave that away already.”
My shirt?
I narrow my eyes at her for a second, then glance down at my lucky fishing shirt. I’ve worn it so many times the design has faded, and I genuinely forgot to consider whether it was appropriate before putting it on today.
Master-baiter.
“It’s a fishing joke.” I wince. “The worm on the hook is the bait…. Get it?”
She takes a slow sip of water. “I understand the joke, thanks.”
This woman thinks I’m dumber than a goddamn rock.
Without a second thought, I slip my hands into the arm holes, preparing to turn it inside out and backwards again, when she puts a hand up to stop me.
“It’s fine. Jonas has been in trouble at school more than once for drawing dicks on things. A poorly executed masturbation joke isn’t going to be the thing that corrupts him.”
“Stripper shirt, not good. Masturbating, fine.Noted.” Iscribble an imaginary note in the air. “I’ll go through my shirts and make a Whit-approved pile.”
