Page 24 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

“There’s some mail in the living room that came this morning that you need to sort through,” Dodge informed me.

With a sigh, I pushed to my feet, grabbed my coffee and an oatmeal cookie, and made my way to the sofa.

The mail was mostly bills and junk. Nothing that Dodge couldn’t have handled since he was now doing the books.

I ate my cookie, sipped my coffee, and just caught the sound of a chainsaw revving up when my eyes started to grow heavy.

When I woke up, it was because Bella was sitting beside me, patting my good shoulder gently.

Someone had covered me up with one of Granny’s crocheted blankets.

I blinked hard at her. She was very pretty and feminine in a splashy vest and skirt.

Her hair was nicely done, and her makeup accentuated her bright green eyes.

“Granny says you need to wash up for dinner.”

“Dinner?” My sight flew from Bella to the darkness outside the old bow window. “Jesus.”

“You were quite tired.”

“I guess.” I rubbed at my eyes with my good hand, yawned, and took a second to gather my wits. “Where are the others?”

“They rode out to check on the fencing for the cows,” she explained.

“Oh good. I hate meds. They always knock me out.” My arm didn’t ache so badly, though, so I guess that was a good thing.

“I’m that way with antihistamines.” She crossed one leg over the other, then offered me a soft smile. “Would you like me to bring your meal in here so you can rest?”

“No, no, I need to get up and get moving. Thank you, though. You’re very kind. Did you serve food back in New York?”

The tender smile slipped. “No, I’ve never been in food service.”

I was about to ask what she had been into when the back door slammed open and the sound of men’s boots could be heard thundering into the kitchen.

Granny then yelled at them for wearing their boots indoors, which spurred them into the laundry room to remove their boots and hats.

I watched her shoot to her small flats. “I was in fashion, remember?”

“Oh right, sorry. Still groggy from the meds. Think I’ll just go use the bathroom and wash up.”

Ford arrived then, looking windblown and tense. “Hey, you’re up. So the second line cabin is nothing but a memory. Twister tore it to bits.”

“Shit.” I sighed as I got up. Bella gave him an odd look before scurrying off to help in the kitchen. “That’ll set things back a bit.”

“Yeah, probably. We stopped by Hanley’s camp, and it’s good. Just lost a few bits of clothing, he said, which was lucky as that tornado was real close to that redbud clump.”

“They’re funny things, them twisters. I’m glad to hear his camp is safe.”

Ford nodded and backed out to go wash up. I followed him into the kitchen, nudged Linc aside to get into the sink, and then grumbled at what a pain in the ass it was to wash your hands with an arm in a sling.

“Need help?” Linc asked. I chewed on the inside of my cheek before replying.

“Nope, it’s all good.”

And it was. Mostly. Okay, it was a mess, and I ended up sitting down to supper with a wet sling, a damp cast, and a slew of sympathetic looks. We’d not get into how hard it was to feed myself with my left hand. It was going to be a rough couple of weeks. Mother Nature was a cranky old gal.

***

Under the watchful eye of my grandmother, I popped one more pain pill before bed.

I slept like the damn dead coming awake with a jolt at six sharp when Granny fired off a few rounds.

Through the thin walls, I could hear Linc cussing.

I rolled up to sit, bare feet on the floor, smiling at the sounds of men shaking off slumber to the report of an old woman’s gun.

I took a moment to move my right shoulder, a soft roll, and felt the movement down in my forearm.

Nothing that a couple of aspirin wouldn’t fix.

I was not going to sleepwalk through the day.

We had cattle coming back to the ranch today.

I stared down at my toes—and that one crooked pinkie toe that I’d broken at fifteen, falling from the back of a bull that me and Ollie had thought we could ride only to find out that nope, we couldn’t so that killed our rodeo dreams—as the house came to life.

The slam of the screen door as Granny returned to the house, the low murmur of men’s voices, Bella’s soft tones as she scurried into the bathroom with her phone playing something from Culture Club, and the squeaking of Linc’s window as he opened it to greet the day with some fresh air and meditation.

Over the past few weeks, I’d somehow become accustomed to the sounds of others in my home.

Somehow, and this was the perplexing part, I was growing used to all of them.

Even when we had to wait in the hall for the bathroom or someone ate the last slice of lemon bread.

The whole notion that a loner like me could accept such an unwanted rush of family still confused me.

Granny had always said that I needed more than her in my life.

So I’d gone and got a wife and we all know how well that went.

So I had decided all I required was a hard day’s work and a bottle of whatever was on sale at the liquor store.

Much like the Nazi collaborator in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade , I had chosen poorly.

Seemed like poor decisions were as much a part of me as my bent pinkie toe.

A soft rap on my door yanked my thoughts from my long-lost siblings and my crooked toe.

“French toast in fifteen,” Bella called through the crack of the door.

“Sounds good,” I replied and got my ass moving.

I was dressed, washed up, and slicing up egg-dipped bread soaked in maple syrup in ten minutes.

The rest of the gang arrived in dribs and drabs as Granny fried the bread and Bella served.

Talk was sparse as we ate, mostly about the cattle arriving this morning and the fencing that still needed to be checked.

“I’ll ride out after Manfred and his sons leave to make a pass over the lower range,” I announced after a swig of coffee.

Everyone looked at me with skepticism. I tapped the cast on my arm.

“I’m good. I can ride a horse.” Granny, still in robe and slippers, whipped me a look over her shoulder.

“I’m fine. I will be careful. If it starts to hurt too badly, I’ll put on the sling.

I can’t sit around with my thumb up my ass when there’s so much to do. ”

“You do have help,” Dodge reminded me while stirring some cream into his coffee.

Bella nodded before setting a platter of French toast in front of Linc even though he had been the last to arrive.

Meditation for anxiety took time, I guess.

Ford looked grief-stricken to have to wait for the next round to come from the large griddle.

Linc gave Bella a subtle thank you. She blushed a soft pink that matched her blouse and springy skirt.

“Kind of hard to forget,” I mumbled while fighting Linc for the sticky canning jar of Frank Otterman’s homemade maple syrup. I won, but just. “I need to be busy. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself is bad for my sobriety.”

Every head bobbed. They understood, it seemed.

Wallowing in the role of a victim did no addict any good we heard over and over in our meetings.

Which reminded me that I had one on Sunday night, so just a few days.

I tried to never miss now that I’d been dry for so long.

Cash dying had been a big jolt, and I had felt angry and hurt enough to need to speak to my sponsor after a few years of walking the walk alone.

It was hard for me to get through my thick head that everyone needed someone now and again.

“Don’t overdo,” Granny said with a shake of her spatula at me.

“I’ll be good.”

“First time for everything, I guess,” Granny muttered loud enough for the goats to hear.

Breakfast went quickly. Linc and Ford exited to the cattle barn to lay down bedding for the new arrivals.

Bella scampered off to the springhouse toting some flouncy dresses that she had whipped up on Granny’s machine.

I’d yet to stick my nose into the soon-to-be boutique, but rumor had it, Ford had made a fountain.

How he’d done that I couldn’t begin to grasp, but then again my skills ran to farming and not creative dress boutique fountaining.

Or whatever. I’d go over soon as I got a moment.

“Hey.” Dodge caught up to me in the mudroom, trying to wiggle my foot into my work boots. “Did you manage to talk to Ford and Bella yet?”

“No, kind of broke my arm then slept all day yesterday,” I snapped as my boot refused to come up over my heel. I leaned into the wall more and then bent over to pull with one hand. Talk about a monkey fucking a football. Finally, I managed to get it on, but it wasn’t pretty.

When I righted, I sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. I’ll talk to them after dinner if not before. Promise.”

“Cool, thanks. I’m sorry to push, but Easter is less than ten days away, and I really want Dahn to fly out for the long weekend.”

“I get it.” And I did. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, especially when you’re stoned off your ass on Percocet.

A drug that could very easily sneak in to replace booze, so that was why I was toughing it out with only some OTC meds and ice.

I’d flushed the damn pills when I’d managed to get some time in the bathroom before breakfast. “I’ll go see her shop after Manfred arrives. ”

“Thanks.” He clapped me on the good shoulder and then offered to help with my boot. My first response was to turn down the offer, but I took him up on it. Took a little bit of finagling but we got it and with far less blue words than when done solo.