Page 15 of Wildest Forever (Lovelock Bay #3)

“Not a problem, it needed fixing so I fixed it,” and I know he is acting this way because of me. Sighing, I tilt my head to the side.

“Well, thank you anyway,” I try again, my voice a little lighter.

I watch as the back of his head bobs and I know I have properly fucked up.

“Can you dry?” he throws the dish towel over his shoulder, and I push up to my feet as I make my way to meet him.

Turning my head to the left as I look up at him all wide eyed and feeling guilty as hell, I take the towel from his shoulder and begin to dry up the dishes he has washed.

We don't talk.

Just stand in silence.

Once we're done, I move towards the stairs and I hear the sound of him tapping the kitchen light off and he is behind me, following me up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I go right, he goes left.

We both stand, eyes locked with each other, and I wait for him to speak.

But he says nothing.

Just turns his head away from me and walks into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and once I know he is behind it, I go into my own room and disappear.

Eyes pinned to the ceiling, I have no idea how long I am laying there before my eyes finally flutter shut and I am plunged into a deep sleep.

My alarm screams and it takes me a moment to realize it's coming from my alarm clock. Slamming my hand down on the button, I cover my head with my duvet and groan.

I was not ready to face the day.

Rolling over, I sigh as I see the sun peeking through the curtains.

And then it dawns on me, it's Sunday and I have no idea why my alarm is even set.

Dragging my duvet back over my head, I force my eyes shut and try and fall back to sleep but it is no use.

I have spent an hour tossing and turning and finally decide to call it a day. Sitting up, I stretch and then toss the covers from me as my feet touch the thick carpet beneath me, toes scrunching as I glance over my shoulder and see the sun still shining.

Summer in Montana is my favorite, but it doesn't last as long as I needed it to.

The winters are harsh and long.

The days seem darker than light, and the work feels ten times harder.

Pushing from the bed, I make my way to the bathroom to splash my face and brush my teeth before I make my way downstairs.

It's quiet and I know I am the only one awake so I make a start on the laundry before I put a fresh pot of coffee on and keep it warm.

Opening the fridge, I raid it to find something to make a nice breakfast for Pacey and pops. Placing all I need from the fridge on the worksurface, I move to the small pantry cupboard that sits over the back of the kitchen and sigh when I see the egg house empty.

Closing the door softly, I walk across into the small hallway and open the closet and grab my trench coat, wrapping it around my slender body as I unlock the front door and the crisp morning air fills my lungs.

Wrapping the coat around me a little more, I close the door behind me and duck out.

The skies are pink, the trees softly dancing in the summer breeze.

The air smells sweet, the sound of the narrow stream that runs behind the ranch trickling.

Dusty will already be with the horses, the heifers are over the hill and we have two cowboys sitting up top overnight watching them, while Dusty takes the day shift.

The sound of my rubber boots crunch over the loose stones as I make my way to the coop, glancing over the rolling green hills and see a couple of the geldings out and grazing.

We really wanted to get Bonnie—our piebald cob—foaled this year, but I just can't see it happening, unless Pacey can make it work, plus it's cash we don't really have spare.

I know you have to put in to get back but the pot is running on empty and we can just about keep our heads above water with the ranch.

Business has dropped and I have no idea where the hell we are going to go from here.

We used to be a cotton mill ranch, but my pops pulled away from that once my grandma died and went to the cattle auction. Came home with eight... that eight is now thirty.

But it's continuous.

Buying, breeding, selling.

The want for meat is dwindling in these parts of towns and we haven't made it out of Montana yet, it doesn't help that we have the Riveras in the next town along, they always have first refusal of any sales, if they don't want it, they pass it along to us.

This is why my pops has paired me and Pacey together. Not only for the ranch, but for the connections that Pacey has.

Livestock Agent turned Sheriff; he also holds a well-known name. Everyone knows the Riveras.

The good, the bad, the ugly.

It didn't matter.

They were still who you wanted on your side.

If we were going to war like my pops thinks, then he has chose a good army to take us into the depths of it.

Slipping open the lock on the pen, I lift it up and see my hens sitting all cozy.

“Hey girls.”

Roost, the rooster shakes his feathered wings before stretching his neck and strutting himself out of the coop and I know he is about to do his morning call.

He shouldn't even be in here. He is normally in the little coop with the hens that I want to have chicks, but the little shit does what he wants.

He rules all.

Slipping my hand beneath them, I check for eggs and then peep the box that hasn't been collected in a couple of days and fill my wicker basket up before slipping out the coop and closing the small gate.

I wish I could have them more free roaming, but what with the foxes and wolves, I can't deal with the heartbreak of waking up and seeing them mauled.

They're not cooped up, they have more than enough and probably don't even feel like they're shut away, but I know they're locked away and guilt eats at me.

Right on cue, just as the sun peeks over the mountains and comes into full glory, Roost's morning call echoes around the ranch and I smile.

I have never wanted to leave Blossom Cove, the city life has never appealed to me.

I'm a homely girl.

Like the feel of the grass beneath my bare feet, the sunrise each morning and the clear nights skies, stargazing and the family feel you get around the town.

Everyone knows everyone.

You never feel alone.

You could move here as an outsider and everyone would make you feel welcome.

Unless you’ve done something to make them hate you, then that's a different story.

We're all close knit.

We know everything about everyone.

We may not be in Lovelock Bay's town, but we're on the outskirts and share it. Sure, we have a narrow strip which has the odd shops scattered, but it's nothing special.

But it’s home.

Pushing in the door, I close it behind me and place the basket on the high, round table that sits just inside the small hallway before I shrug my coat off, hanging it up then lose the boots, tucking them back inside the closet on the shoe rack.

Walking back into the kitchen, I smile. There is nothing that caused it, but maybe having the fresh air and seeing the sunrise was the reason.

Placing four eggs on the side, I pop the rest in the pantry and hang the basket up on the hook that sits on the back of the door.

Glancing at the time, it's just past seven and I feel like I have been awake hours.

Turning the radio on, I twist the volume dial so you can just about hear it when the sound of Riley Green - don't mind if I do plays and I sing softly along.

Plating up pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast and fruit, I lay it all out on the work surface before I fill a jug with fresh orange juice.

“Morning,” his voice has me spinning around, eyes a little wide as I scope him out.

It's not fair for someone to look that hot.

All the god damn time.

“Morning,” I smile, walking the plates over to the small round table, I place them down then grab the cutlery.

“You're in a good mood,” his voice is slow and full of rasp.

“Slept well,” I shrug a shoulder up as I reach up for the mugs and I feel his eyes burning into my back. “Pops up yet?” I look at him, head tilting and he shakes his head from side to side.

“Not yet, heard him snoring,” he walks over to the food that is plated up then places his hand on the top of my head, rubbing his hand back and forth and messing my hair.

“Hey,” I scowl, pushing into his side and he chuckles.“Let me go check on pops, don't really want to eat without him,” I say, eyeing my husband as he slips a piece of bacon into his mouth and bites it.

“Oops,” he smirks at me over his shoulder as I walk out the room and go to wake my granddad.

Softly knocking on the door, I walk in and smile as his eyes find mine.

“Morning pops you okay?” I walk over and pull back the curtains.

“Feel a little off today,” he grumbles as he tosses the covers back and swings his legs with a groan.

“Want me to call the doctor?” my brows furrow as I help him to his feet, my eyes scanning over his face. He looks a little gray. Placing my hand against his forehead he is burning up.“Why don't you stay in bed? I'll get you breakfast brought up and I'll call Doctor Carlos.”

He nods, as I lower him back down and tuck him in.

“I'll get your meds,” I place a kiss on his forehead and make my way downstairs.

Pacey's eyes follow me and I am muttering incoherent words.

“All okay?” he asks as he stands, hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants.

“Pops isn't feeling well, I'm going to take him some breakfast up then call the doctor,” I don't look at him, I am too busy setting out his tablets.

“Need me to do anything?”

I want to say no, but I need to learn to use him for help.

“Could you cut a large blood-orange in half and sprinkle it with brown sugar?” my voice is soft. “Then fill a glass of tap water?”

He doesn't reply.

Just does as I ask.

He is in the fridge and slicing the blood orange before he plates it up then fills the glass up.Before I can even ask, he is getting the lap tray out and places it on the work surface.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I lay the plates down and place a hot cup of coffee on it. I go to lift it but Pacey shakes his head from side to side.