Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Rand picked up a plate from the pile that was about to be delivered out, and filled it with biscuits and gravy and everything else. “Is this your mother’s recipe?”
“Yessir, it is.”
He nodded and left the room, and I let out a breath, realizing I’d been holding it, so careful not to say anything wrong. And that wasn’t healthy. We both had to learn to be honest with one another or, conversely, not speak at all. It was at the point where it was all or nothing, and even though I told myself I didn’t care if it was nothing, it was harder to wrap my brain around that than I thought it would be.
It was nice that after everyone ate, Rand offered to do the dishes before his men chimed in that they would. No one in their right mind would let their boss do dishes—not the man who made their way of life possible. Rand’s people understood the importance of the Red Diamond and that what Rand had built was evolving into something bigger every day. Rand washed dishes in his own home, nowhere else.
Breakfast had taken longer to cook than eat because the men were used to scarfing down their food before they got underway. Once everything was cleaned and people were milling around, Mac ordered everyone to the stables to get the horses up, fed, and all of them needed to be brushed and prepared for the day. It was smart, as having bored wranglers was never a good idea. Men who were used to working hard every day, suddenly standing still, staring at each other, was a recipe for an opening like, I bet you can’t do X. Whatever X was. And the longer nothing happened, the odds only got higher of the thing being something stupid. I’d seen perfectly nice people start racing each other, trying to lift calves, and it only got dumber from there. Good of Mac to nip the stupid in the bud.
I could tell that the horses were confused about all the attention. I just sat in the stall and talked to Juju, who got up on her own around eight, and when I said breakfast, even an hour earlier than normal, her ears perked up like yeah, she could see herself having a bite.
We did not start at nine. It was more like a quarter to ten by the time the kids were in wagons, the adults saddled up, and Mr. McNamara and his ranch hands were ready to go. Every time Rand looked at Mac, Mac gave him the everything’s-going-to-be-fine face in return. I just smiled because no, it was not going to be fine.
We stopped for lunch two hours later, much to the surprise of the men from the Red but no one else’s. The kids had to eat. I had no idea what was so mind-blowing about that. But soon after that, it was easy to see that the pace was off. There was a huge gap between where I was at the back and everyone else. When I was working my father’s ranch, the slow movement would have made Juju antsy. She liked to run and work, but just like me, she was used to being awake at night, so at the moment, she needed coffee as badly as I did, and so the slow-going was fine. The issue was, without the GPS I had on my satellite phone that Rand had given us all before we started the drive, I would have had no clue where the main herd was.
When we stopped again so the kids could get out of the wagon and walk around, go to the bathroom, and have snacks, I went to find Rand and tell him the pace was too fast for the new mothers and calves toward the back. He was showing the kids how to make a lasso, boys and girls clustered around him, and I saw the looks on the faces of the mothers. Rand made quite the picture, and when I glanced over at the guy I wanted to get to know and saw his parted lips, yearning written all over him, I got that I was right about him. No man who wasn’t gay looked at another guy like that. Now all I had to do was get him to see me.
I was about to cross to him when Mac moved from behind Rand toward where the snacks were. At that moment I understood that my guy was not lusting after the black-haired, blue-eyed Rand Holloway, but instead after the golden foreman of the Red Diamond.
“Glenn,” Mac yelled. “Come here.”
I was going to respond, but then I saw my dream man move really fast to get over to Mac and have a word with him. But since Mac was staring at me, he didn’t notice the vision in front of him. I gestured at the same time Robin slid a hand over Mac’s forearm to get his attention. When Mac turned, he furrowed his brow as he regarded the guy, who was either oblivious or didn’t care, too intent on what he wanted. And I got it: the small, pretty man was interested in big, strong, and gorgeous, and he’d found it in Mac. Whatever the faults of the foreman of the Red Diamond, he was still stunning. He and Pretty Boy would have made a beautiful couple if Mac were gay. And I would have given the object of my latest fantasy the heads-up that he was barking up the wrong tree, but since he didn’t see me at all, I doubted he could hear me either.