Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Carson
“I’m not sure I like this plan.” My older brother frowned at me over his coffee cup.
Colt needed to move along to the sheriff’s office and stop worrying about plans he’d come up with. I was here to be a ranch hand on the spread he now owned with his husband, and I fully intended to do the damn job I’d agreed to.
“Your plan,” I reminded him. We’d had a long drive back from Denver the day before, and I’d slept like shit in Colt and Maverick’s guestroom. My voice was even thicker than usual, like each word cost a buck and I didn’t have a five to spare.
“Yeah, but you’re still not one hundred percent,” Colt stated the obvious. Perhaps he’d expected more out of the rehabilitation program I’d undergone in Denver. Whatever the case, he was doing a shit job of hiding how disconcerting he found my new normal.
Join the fucking club, brother.
“Not gonna be.” Short, clipped sentences were easiest for me, but the truth really was that simple. I’d been found unfit for duty. Permanently disabled was stamped all over my discharge records. If anywhere near a hundred percent was a possibility, I’d be on a plane this very minute, returning to my personnel and the job I’d left unfinished. Instead, I was here, back in Lovelorn, Colorado, and the one thing I’d learned the past six months or so was that I might as well accept my new reality.
Colt, however, had yet to come to the same conclusion. His expression turned earnest. “If you keep up with the PT and exercises…”
“Colt.” I held his gaze, man to man. He’d seen me when I’d first arrived back stateside, knew what rough shape I’d been in. And Colt was a sheriff, same as our dad before him. He’d seen his fair share of gnarly accidents. He knew damn well there were some things a body didn’t come back from.
“I know.” His wide shoulders sagged. Colt leaned against the nearby fridge. “I hate this for you.”
When had his temples gone gray? And when had those lines around his mouth and eyes deepened? I didn’t like thinking that I might be the cause. He was eight years older than me to start, and then we’d lost our dad in the line of duty when I was a toddler, making Colt that much more parental toward me. I’d never much cared for Colt making himself responsible for the rest of us and the messes we got ourselves into.
However, I also knew when to keep the peace, so all I said was, “Thanks.”
“I do wish you’d consider staying with us instead of in the bunkhouse.” Colt took on a “be reasonable” tone.
I snorted. “Full house already.”
“Always room for you,” Colt said, as if he and Maverick didn’t also have two teen girls and Maverick’s sister living with them. Besides, he and Maverick were newlyweds. The last thing they needed was Colt’s little brother underfoot.
“Gonna earn my keep.” I made my voice firm but added an approximation of a smile to soften my refusal. My facial muscles didn’t always cooperate, so I had to hope my effort was close enough.
“Stubborn.” Chuckling, Colt shook his head.
“Learned from the best.” I grinned at the ribbing, but also at how easy the retort had come out. Words were fickle things these days, so I’d learned to celebrate when they worked as I wanted.
“Fine.” Colt set aside his coffee and hefted my large army duffel bag up from where I’d dropped it near the back door. “Let’s get you settled then.”
“Don’t need an escort.” I gave him the hardest of glares and reached for my bag, but Colt being Colt, he resisted giving it back.
Thank fuck, his husband chose that moment to wander in. Husband. I’d had about nine months to get used to the idea of Colt having one of those. Never would have figured on that possibility, and with Maverick Lovelorn no less. I’d been a little kid when Colt and Maverick had been high-school best friends, too oblivious to notice much beyond my video games and remote-control car obsession.
Maverick, though, had grown into a decent dude. He’d been with Colt when I’d arrived at the medical center in DC and had visited a few times during my Denver program. I’d come to appreciate that he could get Colt to see reason, so I shot him a pleading look and added a smile for good measure.
“Colt. Stop hovering.” Maverick easily plucked my bag away from Colt and handed it to me. “Let Carson walk to the bunkhouse on his own if he wants.”
“Not a kid.” I glowered at them both, grateful for Maverick’s assistance, but frustrated that I’d needed it. And the two of them negotiating like I was a teen asking for an extra hour past curfew rankled.