Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Eight years ago, I’d been in the military, working as a Navy SEAL, thinking that was what I was going to do for the rest of my life.
Then I’d gotten a call from my superior officer letting me know that my stepmom and dad had died in a car wreck, leaving me custody of my little sister, Scottie.
I hadn’t thought too much of the next step.
I’d gotten out of the Navy and headed right home.
I hadn’t realized how rundown the ranch had gotten until I arrived home to see it in such disrepair.
See, once upon a time, my mom and dad had been happy. They’d bought the ranch and had turned it into a large cattle operation.
Over the years, Mom had gotten pretty used to nice things, and had turned into a more critical, expectant form of her old self.
Then tragedy struck, and nearly three-quarters of our herd went down in a freak tornado accident that literally gave the scene from Twister with the cow in the air a run for its money.
We had over a thousand head of cattle die, and we were picking them up for months.
That year our ranch went from a thriving, well-tuned machine to a shell of its former self.
Mom realized that she would rather live large than live happy, so she divorced Dad and found a new man that could give her that life.
Dad had been understandably devastated and content to live his life alone after that.
That was until Rosemarie stepped into his life.
They got married fast and had a kid even faster.
And they spent the rest of their days in love, trying to bring the ranch back to what it once was.
At the time of Dad and my stepmom’s—though I called her “Ma”—death, Scottie had been nine years old.
Now she was seventeen, and not necessarily thriving, but making it.
She graduated a few months ago, and she was already gearing up to go to college in the fall.
Her goal was to go to Texas A&M and get her degree in Agricultural Science so she could come back here and help me on the farm.
I would be grateful for the help.
Though I had a degree, it was only in a bullshit field so that I could say that I’d graduated college.
There was nothing in my art degree that would help me navigate this so-called life I found myself living.
I was winging it the best I knew how, and some days it worked just fine, and others I was served with a late bill that I forgot to pay to the point that they were shutting off the water.
Luckily, I solved that issue by digging my own well.
I had the money.
The club generated quite a bit of random income that I could easily live life comfortably without working another day again.
But there was this driving light inside of me that wanted to see Hicks Ranch restored back to its former glory.
Which was why I was working my ass off to make things happen despite not knowing what the fuck I was doing.
It seemed like I fixed one thing only to make another thing broken.
Ultimately, I could keep the ranch running.
I could buy the cattle, take care of them, and sell them.
I could fix up the ranch.
I could even take care of my little sister.
But there were just so many damn things that were broken that sometimes it felt like it was overwhelming.
When the tornado hit, Mom had accidentally let the insurance on the farm lapse, and we were hit hard with nothing to cushion the blow.
The tornado not only took out our cattle, but our house, two barns, and miles and miles of fencing.
Dad had spent the twelve years after my mom left him repairing the fencing and the barns.
I’d spent the last eight years after his death fixing the house and the grounds as best as I could.
And I was just now seeing a tiny bit of light at the end of the tunnel.
If all went well, I might be able to tip on the right side of black this year barring any huge complications.
“And you, sir?”
I winced, forgetting where I was for a second as I thought about how life had turned out.
“Just the plain grilled cheese. But add mayo and tomato. Fries with jalapeño sauce.” I handed him the menu that was useless.
He nodded, not bothering to take a thing down, and left without another word.
My gaze once again went to the blonde bombshell.
Which was also why I saw her come in.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, my eyes closing and my head dropping.
“What…oh,” Cutter said. “Fuck’s right.”
Three
I’d grill your cheese.
—Searcy’s secret thoughts
SEARCY
“What kind of name is Searcy for a girl?”
I looked at the old lady that came in like clockwork every Wednesday afternoon.
I liked her.
She said what she wanted, and was unapologetic about it.
She didn’t complain, either, when I got her food order wrong.