I can’t help but to crack a smile at the memory. I was excited to be starting a new chapter in my life. Little did I know a pair of steel-blue eyes were observing my silly antics.
“You seem demure to the outside world, but you’re wild and passionate at heart,” Emmett states, leaning back in his chair. “You just need a little guidance to master your full potential.”
They should’ve seen me from elementary school through college. I was an introvert and perpetual wallflower. I’ve come into my own since then, though I’m still a hermit in a lot of ways. It’s true that sometimes old habits die hard.
“You need to eat,” Beau says, pressing a garlic knot to my lips. “The food is getting cold.”
I jerk my head sideways. “Is it too much to ask to feed myself?”
“Yes, now open up,” he orders me.
I wave my internal white flag and begrudgingly comply with his command. This battle is his, but the next one will be mine. My taste buds explode with pleasure as the flavors melt on my tongue. I hum in pure delight. This definitely didn’t come from the frozen section.
“Did you make this from scratch?” I ask Emmett.
“I did,” he answers proudly. “I started cooking at a young age.”
“Why didn’t you become a chef? You certainly have the skills for it.”
Beau gifts my palate with the main entrée next, which is equally savory and packed with flavor.
“I enjoy cooking for family and friends, but that’s it,” Emmett replies. “I never wanted to make it a career. I’m doing what I love. Being a roughneck is in my blood,” he adds with heartfelt conviction. “What about you? Can you cook?”
“Me?” I laugh out loud. “Absolutely not. Cooking isn’t my forte, but I can do the basics. Nothing homemade, ever.”
“No worries,” he says and winks at me. “I’ll keep you fed.”
I’m actually having a great time, despite the dirty tactics used to lure me here. It’s like I’ve known them forever. Sitting in my own chair and having clothes on would be ideal, but one must take baby steps where these men are concerned. Beau twirls spaghetti onto the fork for himself before offering me more.
I shake my head. “I want salad.”
“Then salad you shall have,” he drawls, making room on our plate.
“What did you mean by being a roughneck is in your blood?” I inquire, seeking to appease my curiosity.
“Our fathers were roughnecks,” Emmett replies. “We followed in their footsteps.”
“None of you ever wanted to do anything else? Create your own paths?”
“No,” they answer simultaneously.
“Roughnecking is rewarding work,” Shepard remarks, propping his elbows on the table. “Challenging too. It’s a dangerous profession with long, grueling days, but there was no other path for us.”
“What type of work do you all do on the rig?”
“Well, I’m a tool pusher,” Beau comments. “Among other things, I supervise the drilling crews and make sure the rig has all the necessary equipment to operate. Shepard and Emmett are drillers.”
“Have any of you ever gotten hurt before?”
“Hell yeah,” Emmett states grimly, tossing a crumpled napkin onto his empty plate. “We’ve had our fair share of concussions and broken bones, but not for a long time now. Safety is a priority on the rig but sometimes accidents happen. It’s the nature of the business.”
Being with them means worrying every second of every day when they’re away. I can’t handle that type of anxiety on a daily basis, especially while teaching young impressionable minds. Eventually, the constant stressing would drive me over the edge. And if one of them died… My stomach roils, the mere thought making me physically ill.
“Hey.” Beau runs an index finger over the worry crease between my eyebrows. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. We’re more likely to die in a car crash than on the rig.” He places a feather-soft kiss on my forehead. “There are a lot more dangerous jobs in the world.”
“Easier said than done,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder. “If anything ever happened—”
“Shh.” Beau hooks a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. “We’re going to live to be a ripe old age.”
