“Thanks for the coffee,” I say, an array of emotions swirling around inside me.
“No problem.” As they’re leaving, Finn turns to me and adds, “Also, saw you and Remi leave the bathroom last night. You looked pretty pissed.”Shit.“Y’all get into an argument or somethin’?”
I nearly swallow my own tongue, my stomach lurching into my throat. Shit, shit, shit. As if what happened wasn’t bad enough, Finnsawus leave together. Fuck. Swallowing thickly, I shake my head. “Not an argument,” I mutter. “Remington just bein’ annoyin’, as usual.”
Humor glints in his eyes as a smile curves his mouth. “Mmhmm,” he hums. “Right. Makes sense.” There’s an awkward pause as Finn holds my gaze. The hair on the back of my neckstands on edge. “Alright, well, I’ll talk to ya later,” he finally says before leaving.
Fuck.
Does he know?
No. There’s no way he could know what happened. Well, unless Remington told him, but that’s unlikely, considering he hasn’t said a word about the kiss. Finn doesn’t know. I’m being paranoid, that’s all.
He can’t know.
Nobody can.
And it can never,everhappen again.
Nineteen
Gentry
The older I get, the earlier I wake up.
By the time the sun starts stretching over the pasture, I’ve already had two cups of coffee and decided today’s the day we fix that goddamn fence line. The windstorm we had last week took down three posts, and if I don’t handle it now, the heifers will find the weak spot before I do and wind up on the Christensen’s property again. And that’s an encounter I don’t want to have.
I step onto the porch and there they are—Hollis and Remington—chatting it up about who knows what while leaning against the tailgate. My heart thumps and my mouth waters without my consent as I take in the sight of Remington and the outfit he’s wearing that shouldn’t be attractive but is—a black Texas t-shirt that he ripped into a crop top, gray sweatpants that show a hell of a lot more of him than appropriate, and a faded pair of old boots.
My mind immediately goes back to the night at the bar last week. This is the first time I’ve seen him since then, andI’ve been dreading it since Hollis told me he’d be helping us this weekend. Watching me approach, Remington drags his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, making it crystal clear he’s checking me out. I swallow thickly, praying like hell Hollis doesn’t notice.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Y’all plannin’ to work today? Or just sit around and bullshit?”
Hollis grins. “We’re pacing ourselves.”
“Pace faster.”
Remington pushes off the truck first. He’s got that alert way of moving, like he’s always listening for something the rest of us can’t hear. “North line?” he asks, a smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth.
“North line,” I confirm with a nod. Three of them posts need replacin’. Wire’s saggin’, and the cows are testin’ it.”
He nods, already scanning the field.
We load the auger and a bundle of fresh posts into the bed. The drive out is all ruts and dust. The pasture rolls wide and golden in the morning light, and for a minute, nobody talks. It’s a good quiet.
Once we’re at the fence line, I hand Hollis the wire stretcher. “You’re on tension.”
He snorts. “You’re awfully bossy lately.”
“When has he ever beennotbossy?” Remington asks with a chuckle and a wink that, annoyingly, makes my stomach flip.
“Just do what I asked,” I mutter.
The truth is, I’ve been making a real effort to take the doctor’s advice about being better at delegating around the ranch, but it’s not easy. My boys have helped out and worked on this ranch most of their lives, and while they help out a ton and have their set jobs they handle around here, I still manage to take the brunt of it. Take this fence issue, for example. Had this been a regular Saturday prior to talking to the doctor, I would’ve come out hereby myself and handled it. No sense in dragging all of us out here on a weekend, even though weekends kind of come with the territory.
I don’t know why, but ever since Finn had Tucker and Hollis got with Ford, I’ve quietly taken on more and more. But I can’t keep going the way I am. Never thought I’d say this, but potteryishelping my issues; it’s just not a magic solution. As much as I don’t want to, I know I have to make significant changes around here too if I don’t want my hand problems to become a more serious issue.
So, I’m delegating.
