Page 52 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘And?’

‘Ash isn’t as good as you, but he can hold his own. So can Dex and Cap.’

‘What about Ryder Riggs?’ Bree’s eyes seemed hyper focused.

‘Ryder’s the oldest one, isn’t he?’ the vet asked.

Harper nodded, keen to learn the gossip as they leaned closer, voices hushed, and their blend of male colognes, divine. It was just another thing Harper missed from the land away from cattle and dust.

‘What do you know about Ryder?’ Bree asked Craig.

‘Nothing.’

‘What do you mean, nothing?’ Ryan scoffed at Craig. ‘You know everything about everyone.’

Craig shrugged. ‘All I know is Ryder is the oldest son. He’s a chopper pilot. And he’s rich. But no one knows how rich, or how he made his money. Is it true Ryder paid for the station with cash?’

Bree barely nodded. ‘The others chipped in, too.’

Harper’s eyes widened. The station had to be worth twenty million dollars. Who had that kind of cash?

‘What else have you heard about Ryder?’ Bree asked.

‘Well, according to Jonathan,’ continued Craig, ‘Ryder is the only one who’ll take on Dex, and whip his arse, too.’

‘But you said Dex was a champion?’ This conversation had Harper sitting on the edge of her seat.

‘But Ryder’s got some mean military training, too. Dex is lethal, but who knows what Ryder is?’

‘Are we safe out there?’ Harper faced Bree. ‘Is Mason safe with them?’ Even if she had a good experience with the military, it had her worried that the two oldest Riggs brothers might physically fight each other in Mason’s presence.

‘Of course he is.’ Bree put her hand on Harper’s arm. ‘You’re well protected under the Riggs brothers’ roof.’

‘I agree,’ said Craig.

‘Here, here.’ Ryan raised his finger. ‘Cap is part of that family. And I know that man would do anything to protect his dogs. He’d rather feed them first than himself. Can you imagine how far they’d go to protect their family?’

Still, it didn’t put Harper’s mind at ease.

‘Oi. Are you lot hassling these ladies?’ Demanded the grumpy middle-aged chef, carrying bags of foil-wrapped food.

‘No chance of that,’ said Craig. ‘Bree’s like a sister.’

‘All good, Lenny.’ Bree stood from the table. ‘Is that our order?’

‘It is.’ Lenny, the chef, handed the bags to Bree. ‘Tell Charlie I’ll be out in a few weeks.’ Lenny’s accent sounded like it was Hungarian.

‘You say that all the time.’

‘I’ll get there when I get there,’ the chef grumbled. ‘But I’ll bring cupcakes, when I do.’

‘Aww, you know me so well.’ Bree grinned as Lenny kissed her cheek, gave her a wink, then headed back to the kitchen.

‘I always bring out cupcakes, too. It’s the standard entry fee to the caretaker’s cottage to crash on the world’s greatest couch.’ Craig stood tall, hitching up his belt where the light caught on the shiny champion rodeo buckle. ‘Tell Charlie I’ll visit when I can.’

Bree gave his arm a squeeze. ‘The old man would love to see you, but he’ll be busy for the next week.’

‘Lemme guess …’ Craig poked up the brim of his hat. ‘If you’re in town in the middle of the week, stocking up on Lenny’s tucker, when you’re a damned fine cook, you’re going on a muster.’

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