“Good point.”
I move to pour him a beer on tap. I know Tucker isn’t stupid enough to get drunk when he’s at work. Not once has he even accepted a shot when the ladies come in and beg him to take one with him. But I know he’s been outside working all day and could probably use this.
“How was work?” I say, sliding the glass in front of him.
He shakes his head. “Annoying. I feel like we’re moving at snail’s speed to build those houses up on the east side of town.”
Bluestone Lakes has a ton of empty land. We’re in no rush to grow it, even if he wants the projects to move quicker. Even if I hate the idea of more people coming into town and moving here, our businesses need it.
I need customers.
Lily needs customers.
Tucker needs construction work.
“I give it another year before Poplar Street is done,” Tucker says after taking a sip of his beer.
“Poppy will be happy when she gets her street back.”
“I don’t blame her. I’m ready to tackle Redwood Avenue, though. In my opinion, that road has the best views in town. I can only imagine the houses we can build there. If I can afford it before we start, I’m definitely building my dream home there.”
He’s not wrong.
Redwood Avenue curves around the side of a mountain. If you find just the right spot, you can see a spectacular view of the mountains on one side and the heart of Bluestone Lakes on the other. But the best part—our actual lake—sits right in the middle. If I wasn’t already building my home at the time where I was, that’s the exact spot I would have chosen too.
“You will do it,” I say. “Slow and steady.”
“You know I’m way too antsy of a person for slow and steady, Griff. I need to move.” He lifts his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers. “My hands need to work their magic.”
I stare at him, unblinking.
“They are magic hands, Griffin Barlow. You should know this,” he defends.
“No, I shouldn’t.”
“I can show you someday.” He winks.
“On that note, I’m heading out,” I say, tossing the dish rag on the counter.
“You got it, boss.” He salutes.
Rolling my eyes, I grab the keys to my truck from the kitchen. Whenever it’s time for me to leave, I always rush out of here as fast as I can before I get stuck talking to a customer or listening to issues about something.
Not many people rush to leave one job to go to another.
But not many people own a ranch like mine.
The anticipation of spending the evening in my own personalserenity to relax and unwind forces me to hustle out of there. Even if it’s not a relaxing job, it’s quiet for me. Feeding the horses, taking them for a ride, and catching a glimpse of the sunset is what I live for. Today is no different. The skies are blue, and the weather is on the warmer side. Rolling my windows down, I let the breeze hit my face on my quick drive home to drop off the stuff I picked up from the General Store before heading to work.
It’s moments just like this that make me wonder what my life would be like if I left and moved to the city.
Imagine missing this?
No fucking thank you.
I turn onto my street, eager to get changed, and head to the ranch.
I purposely avoid looking at Blair’s house. But something catches my eye, forcing me to do a double take and slow the truck down. She’s standing on the side of the house in a pair of hot pink rain boots, jean shorts, and a sweatshirt. Some of her hair pulled to the top of her head and the rest flying in every direction.
