“The things you’re saying make me want to find him and kick his ass.”
"He's not worth the trouble," I mutter.
It makes my lips tilt up briefly to think of Wes stepping up for me like that. As much as I hated his attitude when he arrived, I can’t stop thinking about how everyone keeps telling me howgoodWes is at his heart and how considerate he's being now. It feels like these last few weeks at the ranch have shed him of some of that city bullshit he’d come in here spewing.
I stare down at the plate he sets in front of me. "You made me pork chops?"
"Pops said they were your favorite when Grams used to make them, but I'm sure they're not as good as hers," he says with an easy smile.
I swallow past the burn in my throat. "Yeah, they were my favorite."
This Wes, right here, feels more like the boy I used to know. Andthisis theWes I want to get to know better.
Greedy Sons of Bitches
Wes
I’ve got a million different papers and receipts spread out on the kitchen table at the house, while I look over the books and try to find a way for Pops to afford to hire another ranch hand. It would help take the load off him, and maybe then he wouldn'thaveto sell the place.
Pops is currently in the living room dozing in front of the TV. He came in looking weary, and I know it’s because I’ve been in here all day doing this instead of taking the physical load off his shoulders out there. But I’m trying to find a way for him to keep this place because while I’ve been tasked with convincing him to sell, I can’t shake the guilt of what that would mean for him and this land.
Organization isn’t his strong suit, so I’m having to sort through stacks of papers to find things that are pertinent. He doesn’t believe in throwing anything away and he stuffs it all in the same boxes,so I’ve got receipts from this year mixed with receipts from three years ago. I want to pull my hair out, trying to sort through it all.Unfortunately, the likelihood of having enough cushion to hire more people isn’t looking great, so the giant boulder of guilt remains in my stomach.
I glance up as the screen door swings open. “Hey, nerd,” Tripp greets me. He leans against the door frame. The guy may be short in stature, but his ego is larger than life and he has a tendency to run his mouth.
I scrub my hands over my face. “Hey, dickhead.”
He snorts. “Now that was just uncalled for.”
“How have you not gotten beaten up more since I haven’t been here to protect you every time you talk shit?”I ask, sorting the papers into stacks to look over again later.
“I’ve learned how to talk myself out of trouble. Besides, Sawyer usually has my back. No one would want to go up against that one. She’s damn venomous.”
My cheeks heat at the mention of Sawyer. I haven’t talked to her since I made her dinner two nights ago. A night I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since.
I’d gotten back from town and had let myself in when my knocking had gone unanswered. Then, I made the mistake of walking into Sawyer’s bedroom. She was asleep wearing nothing but a towel, whichhad done a piss-poor job of covering her. It was draped below one breast, inching up her creamy thighs, barely concealing her apex.
I had turned on my heel and run out of there like the place was on fire. Heat flooded my whole body while blood roared in my ears, and my cock ached, hard and desperate for relief.
Needing to steady myself, I’d stepped outside to visit the horses, allowing their presence to calm the thrumming in my veins. Once I’dfinally gotten my bearings again, I’d headed back inside, making enough noise to ensure she woke up and got dressed.
But ever since, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her—and not just because I’d nearly seen her completely naked.She had opened up to me, sharing things that felt rare for her to say out loud. And I’d liked it. I’d been happy to sit there and listen to her talk, to get a glimpse of who she was underneath the short temper and that sharp tongue.
The food had been edible, but I was no chef. Deciding to make Grams’ pork chops had been a bit ambitious, but Pops told me they’d been her favorite when Grams was still alive. I hadn’t done them justice, but Sawyer had seemed grateful that someone was cooking for her anyway, no matter how mediocre it turned out to be.
“Sawyer called me earlier,” Tripp says. My eyes dart to him, and he smirks at me like he knows my thoughts were all twisted up in her at the moment. “She said she needs some help with the horses tonight. She’s not feeling the best.”
DidI poison her? I hadn’t felt sick at all since eating what I’d cooked, but maybe I was immune to my own food poisoning.
“I’ve got a date tonight, and Allie has a PTA meeting she needs to be at. Do you think you can—”
I’m off my chair and out the door before he can finish asking the question. “I’m on it! Tell Pops,” I call, halfway out the door.
Tripp’s answering chuckle makes me wince at how damn eager I sound. “You’ll have to deal with the goats too,” he hollers back.“And check the fence. Roscoe likes to tear it down.”
I’ve wanted to see Sawyer for the last two days, but I’ve been up to my eyeballs in ranch receipts. All it takes is a reason, and I suddenly can’t wait another second to be near her. Ranch ledgers be damned.
I pull into Sawyer’s long driveway in record time. I’ve gained some familiarity with Dixie over the last few weeks, and now when I pull up, I’m greeted with a few barks and a wagging tail instead of teeth, raised hackles and a snarl.
