Текст книги "Wicked Fall"
Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Making a command decision, I moved efficiently. I didn’t pause to think. The alcohol made sure I wasn’t going to second-guess my actions. My hands were down the front of her pants and my fingers were on her clit, and when I first felt the bite of her fingernails into my shoulders, I knew I had to make her come hard.
And so I did.
I got her off with fast and practiced fingers while I kissed her deeply to swallow her cries. I was going to fuck her too, but as I pulled my hands out of her underwear so I could grab a condom, I asked her, “You’ve done this before, right Callie?”
She gave me a shy, hesitant look and shook her head.
And just like that, my cock went on hiatus. My blood turned cold. A pain shot through the center of my chest as I came to the realization that what I just did with Callie… that was all it would ever be. Getting her off and watching her come was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, but that was the only taste I would ever have of her.
I was not about to take her virginity. She deserved way better than me for that.
I don’t know if it shames Callie to remember that night, but it actually shames me. I feel slicing guilt when I remember the way she actually begged me to “make love” to her and I told her simply, “I just can’t.”
I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the pain in her eyes that came from my rejection.
I try to shake loose the memories of Callie Hayes and all the things she’s meant to me and how she plays at the top of my fantasy list. Sadly, I call it “The Fantasy That Could Never Be”. The minute I pull onto the town square, I see that Zed’s is jam-packed and I have to park a few blocks over. It’s one of the more popular restaurants in Jackson. They have the best buckwheat pancakes, which are what I’m craving right now.
If I’m lucky, she’ll find a nice vanilla man to make her happy, and I can get back to the way my life is supposed to be.
Chapter 4
Callie
“Your order should be up in just a minute, Callie.” I glance up at Carmen as she tops off my coffee. She’s been serving at Zed’s for as long as I can remember, and yet, she still looks the same. Even when I was a little girl, she had that dark hair liberally streaked with strands of gray, laugh lines around her kind, brown eyes and in the corners of her mouth that bespoke of a woman who enjoyed good humor.
“Thanks, Carmen.” I smile at her, reaching for the creamer and sugar. As I doctor up my coffee, I turn on my phone to check my messages.
Immediately, my screen is filled with incoming texts from Will. Except I changed his name in contacts from Will Tynnick to “Judge’s Bitch”. Petty, I know, but it does sting slightly the lengths he had to go to have some “excitement” in his sex life. It’s just one more reminder to me how pathetically dull I must have been.
More stinging is the fact that we clearly didn’t have the type of relationship where he could have asked me for something spicier if that’s what he wanted. Why he considered me a doormat, I have no clue.
Well, wait… yes I do.
Because I acted like a fucking doormat.
I grimace over that sad realization as I flip through the texts.
I’m going out of my mind with worry. Will you please call me and let me know you’re safe?
I’m so sorry, honey. Please, please talk to me so I can explain.
Callie… I love you. I’m going insane here. Call me.
Nothing all too different than what he’s been sending me for the past three days. I wondered if he was going to call my parents at some point and tell them what happened. Any sane person at this point would do that if someone had been missing going on four days now, but I don’t think he’s prepared to let my mom and dad know exactly what happened. Hell, I’m not prepared for that either. I just told them when I showed up on the doorstep at the Governor’s Mansion in Cheyenne that we had broken off the engagement and I didn’t want to talk about it. They abided by my wishes but then ushered me home to Jackson where my dad’s been working from so he can keep an eye on me. I know he’s worried but I’ve assured him I’m okay, and I expect he’ll head back to Cheyenne soon.
I read the last text. If you don’t respond to me before the end of the day, I’m going to the police. I have no clue if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. I get you’re mad, but now you’re just being selfish by not at least responding so I know you’re okay.
A small tremor of guilt rumbles through me. I know Will is worried. I totally get that from his texts, and I can’t have him calling the police and filing a false report, because I am very much okay. I think for a moment and choose my words carefully.
I’m home in Jackson and I’m fine. I’m not ready to talk but hopefully one day. Don’t bother texting or calling me. I’ll call when I’m ready.
I read over it twice and satisfied, I hit send.
His response is instantaneous. Please, please just call me right now. I need to talk to you.
I set my phone down and ignore it.
“Here you go,” I hear, and a plate with eggs, bacon, and home fries clatters in front of me. I look up and see Kelley Jacobs looking down her nose at me, which is nothing new. Kelley is one of those locals who just can’t seem to get her shit together and thinks all of her woes are to blame on others. She seems to think that I, as the governor’s daughter, have something to do with the fact that she dropped out of college five years ago and now works as a waitress.
The bell over the front door to the restaurant jingles, and my eyes flick up at the sound. Kelley’s head turns too, and she even hums approval to herself under her breath. “Mmmmmm. Mmmmm.”
Yeah… that would describe the man walking in the door.
Woolf steps inside, takes his hat off, and looks around the crowded restaurant. His eyes stop on me, and I give him a cautious wave. I’m feeling a little awkward after last night. He gives me a tight smile and continues to look around for an empty table. His eyes come back to mine, and I make a motion toward the empty chair opposite of me.
I don’t miss the subtle grimace and for a moment, I think he may just walk back out the door, but then he looks resigned to sit with me and heads my way.
Woolf pulls out the chair, throws his hat on the chair next to it, and gives a beautiful smile to Kelley. “Hey, sugar. Can I have some coffee and a buckwheat stack?”
Ugh. He called her sugar… and it sounded all sexy too.
Kelley beams at him and gives him a flirty wink. “Anything for you, darlin’.”
I clear my throat. “Can I get some hot sauce?” But she’s already spinning away from me. I watch her retreating back for a moment, and then sigh as I turn to face Woolf.
“Sugar?” I ask him blandly. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
Woolf throws his head back and laughs, and seriously… were his teeth always that white and straight? I know his lips were always that full, and that must be why I never noticed his teeth.
Shaking my head, I pick up my fork and scoop up a tiny piece of scrambled egg. I shouldn’t have indulged in that last whiskey with Woolf last night, which tipped me over the edge from buzzed to drunk. My stomach’s been swimming a bit this morning.
As I put the food tentatively in my mouth, he says, “Gotta hangover?”
I don’t fail to notice he didn’t address my last question, but seriously… not any of my business. Nope. Doesn’t bother me at all who Woolf is interested in. I learned my lesson a long time ago. It’s never going to be me, so why wish for it?
“I’m feeling a little poorly,” I admit with a smile and then try a bite of bacon.
Woolf seems to think that’s good enough opportunity for him to get all brotherly on me. He leans in and murmurs softly but with chastisement. “Seriously, Callie… what were you thinking last night? Getting up on that bar… flashing your shit for everyone to see?”
My cheeks start to burn not only from embarrassment, but also from anger. “Who are you to judge me?” I grit out.
Woolf pushes back and shoots me a surprised look. “Hey… I’m not judging. It’s just… that’s not you. It’s not the girl I know.”
“I’m a woman,” I point out as I turn my attention back to my food.
“That you are,” he mutters, but I don’t look back at him, keeping my gaze on my plate. I eat in silence and don’t even bother to look up when Kelley brings Woolf his coffee. They chat for a bit. He asks her if she’ll be coming by The Wicked Horse anytime soon, and she giggles and simpers for a bit, assuring him she’ll be by. Woolf turns on the charm and flirts right back with her, and she giggles some more.
Makes me even more nauseous.
After Kelley totters off, I just can’t seem to help myself. “So… you and Kelley, huh?”
Woolf gives me a knowing grin. The type that knows I might be a little jealous and he finds it amusing. He places his forearms on the table and kicks his legs out, brushing them against mine under the table. “Come on, Callie… that was just a little bit of harmless flirting.”
Hmmmm. That sounds sincere and my shoulders sag a bit, telling myself with brutal honesty that I had been a little on edge over the thought of Woolf with another woman. Which was just utter ridiculousness. He doesn’t think of me like that. He was painfully clear about that after Richard died.
And then he knocks away any remaining doubt about that issue. “Besides,” he says as an afterthought as he picks up his coffee cup and looks me square in the eye. “I don’t go out with brunettes.”
Kelley is a brunette.
But then, so am I.
My mouth drops open slightly at the blatant and backhanded slap at me. I mean… I don’t know if that was directed at me intentionally, but it hit me squarely. And my shoulders sag just a bit more as I realize that maybe I am still harboring some feelings for Woolf.
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?
I’ve been carrying a torch for this man for as long as I can remember. I think even when he put frogs in my bed at age nine that I loved him then. I know for sure that when he kissed me the night after Richard’s funeral, and then gave me my very first orgasm, I loved him. Yes, it was definitely love, or otherwise, why would I have been so shattered when he wouldn’t have sex with me? I can remember that night with painful and vivid detail. I’ll never forget what I believe was actual disgust on his face when I told him I was a virgin.
That night, he not only gave me my first orgasm, he gave me my first broken heart.
In fact, it’s been my only broken heart.
I nursed it for two years and finally started to let some of it go when I met Will in college at Duke. I gave my virginity to Will instead. I also gave him my love and promised to marry him. I tried to push Woolf Jennings to the back of my dark closet and leave him in there.
I not only tried, but I succeeded, because he rarely crossed my mind as I lived out my days as the model bride-to-be beside William F. Tynnick, Esquire. He stayed buried away, popping out on occasion if we ran into each other during holidays, but for the most part… Woolf was nothing more than a family friend.
Something he’s just made abundantly clear again.
A change in subject is in order.
“So what’s the real story about The Wicked Horse?” I ask genially before attacking my home fries. The grease actually seems to be settling my stomach.
A brief flicker of anxiety passes over Woolf’s face, and he asks cautiously, “What do you mean, the real story?”
“I mean,” I say dryly as I wave my fork at him. “Why is Woolf Jennings, CEO of JennCo, spending his time running a bar? Or for that matter, how in the hell do you have time to even do that?”
Woolf seems to relax. “I have a business partner, Bridger Payne. He does most of the work there. I’m more like a silent partner.”
“But why?” I press him. Not that I can’t see Woolf doing that, because I can so see him hanging out in just such a place. It seems to fit him.
“It’s a nice break from an otherwise dull life,” he says softly.
I swallow my food, setting my fork down. “Dull life?”
“Come on, Callie,” he says with joking censure. “Can you honestly say you’d ever see me sitting behind a desk my entire life?”
I blink at him in surprise. Not at what he just said, but at myself. Because yeah… I know Woolf. He wouldn’t be happy behind a desk. He’s too rugged and adventurous. Always has been. He’s more at home in the leather of a saddle than a chair. He loves the outdoors too much. He likes thrills and excitement.
“I can’t see you sitting behind a desk,” I agree quietly.
He stares at me silently, almost with relief in his eyes that I… what? Still know him? Is he relieved that I still know my longtime friend? My brother’s close friend? My failed lover?
I smile at him in understanding before pushing my plate away. “Okay, so I get The Wicked Horse… which is a great name by the way. How long have you had it?”
“It’s only been open a few months,” he says with pride. “It keeps me sane and makes dealing in a world of suits otherwise bearable.”
“Well, I certainly had fun there last night,” I say with a grin.
“Too much fun,” he says as his eyes flick briefly down to my chest. My face turns hot just knowing that he’s thinking… in this very moment… about my naked breasts.
“Not enough fun,” I assert with challenge. “Someone stopped me.”
“I did you a favor, Callie. You’re lucky a picture didn’t end up in today’s paper.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I take another sip of coffee. “Well, that didn’t happen so let’s move on.”
Carmen is the one that ends up bringing Woolf his breakfast, thank God, as I don’t think I could take any more of Kelley’s flirting.
After he pours some syrup on his stack, he starts cutting into it. “Speaking of moving on, what are your plans?”
I told Woolf last night all the painful details of what happened with Will. He’s the only other person other than me, Will, and Judge Lane that know the sordid mess.
“I’m not sure. My dad will be gearing up for reelection next year. Maybe I’ll stick around and work on his campaign.”
“It makes sense,” he says after spearing a few chunks of pancake on his fork. “You of the two poli-sci degrees.”
I duck my head to hide my pleased smile. That he remembers what my degrees are in. After graduating from Duke with my political science bachelor’s degree, I went on and completed their master’s program while Will went to law school at Duke. My dream had been to go to DC and work in the Senate or House as an aide, or maybe even try my hand at lobbying, but Will wanted to move back home to Connecticut and go into private practice, and so… I lamely followed him.
And you know what the value of poli-sci degrees are in suburbia?
About zero dollars.
Therefore, I worked thirty-five hours a week as an event planner in a business owned by the wife of one of Will’s partners.
Woolf’s phone rings, and he shoots me an apologetic look just before he answers it, “Jennings.”
I watch as he pushes his plate away and leans forward. One forearm on the table, the other raised to press the phone to his ear. His eyes roam around the restaurant lazily, not really seeing anything because I can tell he’s carefully listening to whoever is on the other end.
Finally, he says, “Yeah… that was supposed to have been mailed out to you week before last. I just assumed you received it.”
He listens a bit more, then looks over at me and makes a writing motion with his hand. I immediately dip into my purse, pull out a pen, and push a napkin across the table at him. He scrawls something that’s practically illegible and says, “Okay… got it. I’ll mail it myself as soon as I get back to the Double J.”
When Woolf disconnects, he looks flustered as he takes the napkin and tucks it into his shirt pocket. “Sorry about that. I just need to send myself a quick email so I don’t forget about something when I get back to my office.”
“No problem,” I say as I watch him over my coffee cup. I wait for him to send the email and when he looks back up at me, I tilt my head to the side and ask, “Don’t you have a secretary or something to handle that stuff?”
Woolf snorts as he lays his phone back down and picks his fork back up. “I have a secretary who works at the main office of JennCo in Cheyenne, but I can’t seem to find a local one to keep me straight. I think I’ve been through five different ones already this year.”
“Slave driver,” I tease.
“No, seriously… I’m a pretty easygoing boss. I just hire shitty people without a work ethic.”
“Well, I’m not doing anything. I’ll help you out if you want.”
Woolf freezes with a forkful of buckwheat cakes to his mouth and just stares at me in contemplation. But then he lowers the fork and his eyes right along, and says, “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” I press him. “I don’t have anything to do, and I’m a fucking whiz at organization. I’ve kept my father’s schedule straight during his campaigns, and shit Woolf… I was a fucking event planner in Connecticut. I hated it, but I was damn good. I’ve got skills at least.”
He blinks at me hard and doesn’t say a word.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Just that filthy mouth you’ve developed,” he says softly. “It’s very anti-Callie.”
“I’m not the same girl you once knew,” I tell him firmly. Well, I really was, but I aimed to change that. So far I’ve entered a wet t-shirt contest and mastered the word “fuck”. I’m quite proud of myself so far.
Woolf scrubs his hand thoughtfully over his stubbled chin. Seriously, did this guy ever shave? It seems he always has just the perfect amount of whiskers to make him look even ten times sexier than normal.
“I’ll pay you twenty dollars an hour, thirty hours a week,” he says bluntly. “Oh, and buy a coffee pot for the office when you come in tomorrow.”
And just like that… I had a job.
Working for Woolf Jennings.
Life is good.
Chapter 5
Woolf
Two things assault me when I open my main office door at the Double J.
They happen almost simultaneously, yet one is just a few seconds before the other.
The deliciously deep and rich scent of dark roast coffee brewing.
Next, Colton Stokes sitting on the edge of Callie’s desk, one long leg planted firmly on the floor, the other resting perilously close to her arm.
He’s gazing down at her in what I know is barely disguised lust, and they’re both laughing at something. I shut the door hard and Callie jumps in her seat, turning her head my way. She gives me a cheeky grin and says, “Geez, Woolf… you about gave me a heart attack.”
I don’t smile back at her, and I’m an utter dick when I say, “Not surprised. What with your attentions focused elsewhere.”
I say this with a great deal of employer censure, and her face flushes. “Sorry. Colton was just telling me a joke. He’s here for your ten AM meeting.”
Nodding curtly at her, I walk over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup. I silently will myself to get under control, but fuck… that just started my morning off shitty watching them laugh together. Colton wants in her pants, no doubt about that. Not sure what Callie wants, but I seem to remember they dated in high school. I know he doesn’t know her as carnally as I do, but doesn’t mean that he won’t in the future.
I risk a quick glance over at them. Colton has stood from her desk and stepped a few feet away.
But Callie?
Man… fucking more gorgeous today than she was yesterday. When she showed up for her first day of work just three days ago, she was wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a white t-shirt that fit her nicely. She had on a heavy denim jacket as the mornings were still quite chilly and her hair was in a ponytail.
“Sorry about the attire,” she had said without real apology. “I don’t have much in the way of clothing here. I plan to try to get some shopping done this afternoon when I get off.”
I assured her that working on a cattle ranch, regardless of whether it was in the saddle or behind a desk, meant jeans were entirely appropriate.
And yet… the very next day, she showed up in a slim, black skirt that came to just above her knees and a silver-colored blouse that dipped low but didn’t reveal anything but shadow. The kicker was a pair of knee-high boots with heels that added a good four inches onto her height and because she’s tall, almost put her eye to eye with me. Her hair was stylishly sleek, she had on makeup, and her lips were glossy. She looked like a movie star, and I think my tongue was hanging out of my head all day.
She’s dressed to the nines again today in a form-fitting dress in a dark purple color, and those killer, sexy boots again. As she sits at her desk, I can see a flash of skin above her knees and when I glance back over at Colton, he notices that too.
Asshole.
“Let’s go, Stokes,” I say brusquely and nod my head toward my office.
Colton follows me in, and I shut the door behind us. By the time he takes a seat opposite my desk, I’m already regretting my tone with him. Colton is a long-standing friend. His family ranches cattle too, and he’s a decent guy. On top of that, I really have no business getting between him and Callie, so I try to lighten the mood for all our sake’s.
“Saw your dad in town the other day. He’s looking great,” I say genially. Clinton Stokes had quadruple bypass surgery at the young age of just fifty-two about six months ago. Colton has been pretty much running things since then.
Colton smiles and nods his head. “Yeah… he’s a tough old coot. Nothing will keep him down for long.”
I laugh and drum my fingers on my desk. “Remember that time he caught us reading his dirty magazines in the bathroom when we were kids? Scared the shit out of me when he chased us around, threatening us with his belt.”
With a bark of a laugh, Colton nods his head. “I was more afraid he’d tell my mom what we were doing.”
We both chuckle over the memory, and I’m satisfied Colton isn’t giving any thought to my dick attitude just a few minutes ago. I not only don’t want him thinking I have anything going on with Callie—which I do not—but I also do business with the man and I don’t need tensions there.
I segue into the real reason I asked Colton to come by. “We’re headed to auction in a few weeks, but I wanted to ask you about the results of your crossbreeding program.”
He blinks at me in surprise, because while the Stokes know their cattle, they aren’t on the same playing field as the Jennings. But he’s not giving himself enough credit because I’ve been hearing some good things about his new crossbreed of Red Angus and Hereford cows.
Colton gives me a smile and lapses into a long-winded soliloquy of the program. He’s only all too happy to share with me as we sell off our excess cattle to his ranch, and we also use their slaughterhouse from time to time for overflow, so he desperately wants to maintain good business relations with Double J. He tells me about the methods they use to breed and continues on to proudly talk about the beef falling well within Angus certification guidelines. He drones on, and while the information is interesting and completely useful to our operations, my mind drifts.
To Callie.
She’s been a damn godsend in just the few days she’s been working for me. She has me entirely organized and for the first time in well, forever, I don’t feel as if I’m always in a state of worry that I’ve forgotten to do something important. She’s working with Marta, my secretary at JennCo, and between the two of them, I feel like the weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
The downside to her working for me is her presence.
It’s maddening. Her scent, her beauty, her voice.
Nine times out of ten when I’m looking at her, she’d be surprised to know I’m imagining something filthy I want to do to her. Just yesterday, I imagined eating her out while she was splayed out naked on my desk, and only my phone ringing brought me out of that daydream. Which was, by far, one of my tamest.
Callie would never speak to me again if she ever found out what my dirtiest fantasy with her was. Hell, I feel compelled to slap myself on her behalf just for thinking it.
Give it up, dude. Not ever going to happen.
I force myself to listen to Colton and even write down some notes as he talks. After about half an hour, we make arrangements for me to come over and check out his stock. When we’re finished, I walk with him to my door but before we get there, he says, “You missed a crazy time at the opening of Bacchanalia the other night.”
Colton is grinning at me slyly.
And yes, Colton is a member of The Wicked Horse’s inner club. He pays a whopping fifty-thousand dollars for a platinum membership, which pretty much gives him access to everything. Twenty-four-seven access to all the buildings, unlimited food and liquor, and registration in our fantasy database that helps to facilitate hookups by matching people according to their level of kink and desires.
Bridger and I have had to carefully construct our sex club so we don’t run afoul of prostitution laws. We employed a team of lawyers to make sure we were legally in compliance of all criminal statutes, and Bridger vets our employees very carefully to make sure they stay in compliance too.
The law is really quite simple though and easy enough to skirt around.
Prostitution in Wyoming is when a person performs, permits, offers, or agrees to sex in return for money or property.
Therefore, we had to make sure the exchange of monies to my company was not in exchange for sex. Rather, it’s more of a rental fee on the facilities to make use of however they want. For his fifty-thousand, Colton gets a membership into a private club that offers him a place to socialize with excellent food and liquor, as well as entertainment. If Colton happens to participate in sex when he shows up, that’s all his choice. He exchanges no money with his partner or partners, nor does said partner or partners get paid. All people engaging in sex are there because of paid memberships that do nothing more than guarantee them entry into the building, top-shelf liquor, and gourmet food. That includes the few employees from the main club that partake of what the club has to offer. So as not to confuse the payment of money for their bartending or waitressing services, as part of their salary, each of those employees also gets a Silver membership to the sex club. It only gives them access two days a week, but otherwise operates the same as a Platinum membership. So, technically, the employees are not paid for their work in The Silo or one of the cabins, but rather enjoy a much higher salary than most bartenders or waitresses would make as well as a Silver membership.
The one thing that has caused some troubles for Bridger and me is if a club member is extremely satisfied with the services one of my employees provides and wants to give a tip. We have to shut that shit down fast because that right there is prostitution. No employee of mine can accept monies once they step foot out of the main club, and I will fire them on the spot if I catch it.
I give a knowing smile to Colton and lower my voice so I ensure Callie can’t hear us through the door. I’m purposely vague when I say, “I was there when the party kicked off, but I didn’t stay long. Must have missed you.”
That’s true enough and if Colton chooses to believe I participated, so be it. But the fact of the matter is I just showed up and gave a little speech about how excited Bridger and I were. I only stayed for about a total of ten minutes, watching Bridger play with a husband and wife who’ve been members since we opened. Normally, observing Bridger put both a man and a woman on their knees before him and making them take turns sucking his dick would turn me the fuck on, but not that night. For some reason, I just wasn’t into it.
I felt unsettled and unsure of myself for the first time I can ever remember. I ended up going home and watched a basketball game on TV while I drank a beer. I even wondered what it would be like if Callie were there with me, maybe curled up into my side, reading a book.
Shaking my head because I have no fucking business thinking those things, I grab the doorknob and open the door. I hold my hand out, and Colton shakes it. “Thanks for coming by, man. I’ll be out to see you next week as planned.”
“Sure thing, Woolf.”
Turning my back on him, I force myself not to look at Callie sitting at her desk, and walk back to my own. I flip up my calendar to look at my schedule for the rest of the day, pleased to see that after my lunch meeting, I don’t have anything else. I think I’ll knock off and head over to The Wicked Horse. Stephanie is on duty I think, and I could get a quick fuck in. I think that all I need is to just get laid. It’s been going on a full week now since I’ve had some pussy, and I’m starting to get grumpy about it.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
My mouth curves into a smile, and I give myself a little fist pump of exuberance. I just need to get re-oriented. Shake off all the crazy that came with the return of Callie Hayes.
“…this little restaurant they just opened up on the main square,” I hear Colton saying, and my ears perk up hard.
“Sounds divine,” Callie says.
“Awesome. Saturday then… I’ll pick you up at seven?” Colton says with excitement in his voice.
Oh, hell fucking no.
I shoot out of my chair and walk out of the office just as Callie says, “It’s a date.”
“What’s a date?” I ask casually as I open up the file cabinet behind her desk, rooting around for what the fuck ever.
“I’m going to take Callie out to that new restaurant in town on Saturday,” Colton says with a shit-eating grin.
I turn from the cabinet with a folder in my hand, no clue what I just grabbed, and give first Colton and then Callie an apologetic look. “Sorry… she has to work this weekend.”
“Doing what?” Callie demands as Colton’s face falls.
“It’s branding weekend on the Double J,” I say smoothly, immensely grateful that it is, in fact, the weekend we’ll be vaccinating, castrating, and branding the spring calves. “It’s going to be a busy day for me, and I’ll need your help.”
Colton looks at me dubiously because as an owner of a cattle ranch, he knows I really don’t have much to do. I mean, sure, I’ll participate in some of the branding, but that’s just for fun.
In fact, most ranches treat branding day as a festival of sorts. All the ranch hands and their families will be there. After all the work is done, we’ll have events like roping contests and three-legged races for the kids. I’ve got two hundred pounds of Double J barbeque being cooked with enough potato salad, baked beans, and apple pie to feed an army. Hell, I’ve even got a band to play and fireworks set up.
