“That was the point, wasn’t it?”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I hate this. I’m only punishing myself here.”
“I’ve got to go.”
He quits pacing and grips my face. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”
“Please don’t,” I groan. “I don’t imagine it’ll be a pretty sight. Just go check on Dallas and do whatever else you boys do after it rains.”
He sighs. “Then promise you’ll take it easy. Remember, the guys are finishing whatever you don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I remember.”
He lets me go, reluctantly, and I have to push him out of sight before I open the door.
Randy’s lip curls up. “Ready to get dirty, doll face?”
My eyes widen and I race out, shutting the door before Wilder’s temper kicks in. “Don’t call me doll face.”
“Don’t get feisty. Have your coffee this morning?” Dammit. Knew I forgot something. But there’s no way I’m opening that door now. I’m not sure Wilder will let me leave again. “No.”
“Me neither. Let’s grab some. Hop on.” He’s got a tractor and I’m relieved to not be taking the cart. I can already see myself getting the wheels stuck in the mud somewhere.
My stomach sinks at leaving Wilder so mad this morning. I have no doubt that this weekend was all we’ll have, and I didn’t want to end it like that.
We grab a quick bite and a coffee to go from The Shack—which is empty for the most part—then head to work.
“I better be getting paid overtime for this shit,” Randymutters, making me wonder what possessed Wilder to hire him or even keep him around when he’s such a jerk.
I ignore him and finish my coffee on the short ride.
“The other guys are clearing the south pasture for you now. It’s small—nothing you can’t handle. Barry and Nelson will handle the east pasture, that one’s pretty wide. We’ve already moved most of the cattle inside.”
“I want the bigger one,” I say firmly, suddenly feeling like my early therapy days, when Sandra would “go slow” with me, like I’d break into pieces at any moment.
Or when Wesley insisted I couldn’t handle the reality of city living.
I’m not weak.
Just a little flawed.
He glances over at me with a perked brow. “You trying to prove something?”
“Well, you told my brother I’m the reason we got caught, didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes at him.
He turns back to the road, leaving my accusation unanswered.
“It’s only fair if I take the bigger one.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Words are just flying out of my mouth. Words I think prove—to no one of importance—that I can handle anything.
“If you say so,” he says like he’s going to get a kick out of today.
A few minutes later, I follow Randy out of the equipment shed and onto the expanse of the north pasture.
He hands me a silver bucket. “So what am I doing?” I ask.
“Stone pickin’,” he says, as if that means anything to me.
I frown at the empty field.Whichones?Howmany?Idon’tseeanystones.
