Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
The others laugh.
“What did I miss?” I ask when I join them.
“We were just going to pair up and ride fence line,” Dusty says.
“I’ll take Aiden,” I tell him, and the others share a look.
I have men of all ages here. Some have worked summers out here before, and others are younger and new, but Aiden is the youngest at fifteen.
“Problem?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“No, boss.”
They shake their heads, and I notice one guy, Spike, clear his throat.
“Hey, boss,” he says, “Can I go with you today? I need to talk to you.”
“I’ll take Spike.” The man’s head nods in thanks. We pair off, and Spike and I ride for a couple of miles without saying a word.
We find a spot in the barbed wire that needs to be fixed, so we hop off the horses, and I grab the supplies out of my saddlebag.
“How’s it going, Spike?” I finally ask him when he continues to keep quiet.
“I’ve got a situation, boss.”
I nod and pass him a pair of pliers. “Okay, let’s talk about it. What’s up?”
He wiggles an old nail out of the post. “I don’t know what your old man told you about me.”
I frown as I pass him a new nail.
“Dad always had good things to say about you.” He glances at me in surprise. “How long have you been working out here?”
“About ten summers, I guess,” he says.
Spike sighs and stands up, tips his hat back so he can wipe the sweat off his brow. He’s about my age, but the years haven’t been kind to him. He’s overweight, his hair is thinning, and his skin is like leather. But what I said is true; Dad never had a bad thing to say about Spike or his work ethic.
“I’ve been going through a bitch of a divorce,” he says as he looks out at the pasture. “Been dragging on forever because we have a kid, and she doesn’t want me to see him. Thinks it gives her power to keep my boy from me.”
Shit. I shove my hands in my pockets and listen.
“I didn’t think I’d get to see him much this summer. Even though we have a court-ordered parenting plan that says I get him every weekend, she never abides by it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “But?”
“But now she has a boyfriend.” I see where this is going. “And she wants Micah to live with me this summer.”
“How old is Micah?”
“Sixteen.” He blows out a breath. “He’s a good kid, and I’m excited at the prospect of spending the summer with him, but I need this job.”
“Bring him.”
That has Spike blinking, and his eyes cut over to mine. “Just like that?”
“There’s room in the bunkhouse,” I reply. “And I’ll pay him to work for the summer. The two of you can be together. It’s a win-win for all of us.”
Spike swallows hard. “I thought that with Aiden working out here, you might say that, but I was worried.”
“Aiden and Micah just might end up as friends,” I add with a nod. I like the idea of that. I don’t think Aiden has many friends. “I know it’s not any of my business, but how’s the court battle going?”
With a sharp breath, he kicks at the dirt under his boots. “Slow as hell, and I can’t afford the attorney anymore to keep fighting it.”
I narrow my eyes. I don’t like bullies.
“You can now. I’ll make some calls, and we’ll see if this can get wrapped up for you. But if there’s something I should know, something about your past, like you were an abusive fuck, or an asshole to your wife and kid, I want to know now before I put my name on the line for you.”
Spike scowls. “My only sin is that I ain’t rich. I’ve never raised a hand to her or my boy, and I take care of what’s mine.”
I nod, happy with both the reaction and his words. “Good. Bring your boy out here for the summer, Spike. He’s welcome here.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“No need to thank me.”
Spike shakes his head, and we climb back on the horses. “Aiden kicked my ass at poker last night.”
“How much did he take you for?”
“Twenty bucks.”
I laugh. “Good for him.”
“This was good.” Aiden pats his flat belly and leans back in his chair.
“I guess so. You ate a whole pizza by yourself,” Willow says with a laugh.
“Homemade is my favorite.”
“I thought my meatloaf was your favorite?” she counters, and Aiden snorts.
“If it’s food, it’s my favorite.”
Willow stands and walks around the table so she can hug Aiden around the neck, and she plants her lips on his head. She can’t see it, but Aiden’s smile slips, just a bit.
Based on my own childhood trauma, I can see that this boy has food issues, and he doesn’t love to be touched.