I huffed a laugh, taking a long sip of my drink. “Wanna practice?”
“We rode earlier,” Cash groaned, reminding me more of a child than a twenty-seven-year-old man.
“Yeah, and we looked like shit. We got a rodeo comin’ up in a week, and if we rope anythin’ like how we did today, we’re fucked.”
Cash rolled his eyes, making his way to the fridge to grab himself a beer. Just like Chey’s chocolate chips, I always made sure to keep at least a six pack in the fridge. “Fine…but I’m hungry.”
“How ‘bout I cook up some steaks and you call your dad and see if him and Goodie wanna come over and work the chute?”
“Well, it ain’t as good as bangin’ buckle bunnies, but it’ll do. Make sure not to burn mine like last time.”
I narrowed my gaze on him. “I don’t burn things…ever.”
Cash’s shit-eating grin lit up the room.
It’d been a while since it was just him and I. Since Chey had moved in, she and I were together a lot. Not that I minded. I enjoyed her company, but even if Cash was obnoxious and annoying as hell, he was my brother in all the ways that mattered. And I could always count on him for a good laugh or a distraction. After the little spat with Cheyenne, I needed both.
Chapter forty-one
Found Your Love
Cheyenne
The arena lights wereon when we got back to Mercenary Ranch.
“They must be practicin’.”
I’m sure that was all Maverick’s doing. Cash was one of those annoyingly talented people who could fuck off all day long, then kick ass the minute he set his mind on it. Then there was Maverick.
Maverick, who didn’t strive for good. Didn’t strive for great…but perfection. Maverick was the kind of person who mastered every single thing he did. I wish I had the patience for that, but my mind just got tired after a while.
“Wanna watch Uncle Mav and Funcle Cash ride, Cason?” Charlie called over her shoulder.
I watched Cason bob his head up and down excitedly in the rear-view mirror. “Can we get Dutch and Brandy first?”
If Cason was home, it was more than likely the three of them were together. So, after swinging by the houses to grab the dogs, we made our way to the barn and parked beside the old ranch truck.
A familiar, harsh and gravelly tone sliced through the warm night like a blade as he spewed a whole string of curses,bringing a smile to my face. Looked like Bad was here. An answering chuckle, and a voice completely opposite—smooth and suave, with an undercurrent of arrogance. Goodie.
I always enjoyed any time Goodie and Bad were together. They’re dynamic was so intriguing, so amusing. Bad was brash, unapologetic, and rough around the edges, while Goodie was tempered, diplomatic, a true businessman.
“Well, look who decided to join us. Or are you too cool for us now, Mister Cason?” Bad turned from his spot atop the pipe-stall. Cash and Maverick were herding a steer through one of the gates on the far end of the arena.
Cason’s cheeks blazed red, and he dipped his head, a muffled, “Sorry,” escaping him.
“Hey, it was your son’s bright idea to sign him up for flag football,” Charlie said, wrapping a reassuring arm around her nephew’s shoulders. She’d made him get rid of the mullet—correction, his school had made him get rid of the mullet—so Cash and Ryder decided, stupidly, to cut his hair for him.
They’d absolutely butchered it, to the point Charlie ended up taking a set of clippers and just buzzing it short. It was still a bit of a shock not seeing his head of dark, chocolatey colored hair, but it did make his blue eyes pop.
Bad’s harsh features warmed into a smile. “I’m just messin’, kid. You ready for your game this weekend?”
Cason nodded, finally meeting Bad’s gaze.
“Good. How ‘bout you go on and get ol’ Peckerhead out of his stall and tack him up? You wanna ride a bit?”
Cason was already sprinting toward the barn before Bad even finished.
I smiled at his retreating figure. He was a cute kid. Agoodkid. So good it made me worry that I wouldn’t get so lucky. Would my little girl be a sweet little thing like Cason, or a little hell raiser?
