Page 10 of Wrangling Nash

He took a long sip and then kicked his feet up on my grandfather’s desk. I instantly became annoyed at the blatant disrespect as I stared at the soles of his cowboy boots a few inches from my face.

“Can you not do that, please?”

He rolled his eyes but removed his boots from the wood.

“5:30. Have to get up before the sun does.”

Shoot, that is early.

“Ok, and Rig mentioned you’re taking me through herd management tomorrow?”

“I am, should be a good way to break you in, though I don’t see you lasting long.”

I gritted my teeth at his comment but willed myself not to react and feed into what he wanted. I could tell that Wylie would enjoy getting a reaction out of me; however, he wasn’t ready to let things go that easily.

“You may have been the more adventurous of the Ashwood sisters, but I still know your type. City, proud, afraid to get your hair dirty. I give it a week until you’ve packed your bags back to Houston, and this becomes my new home. I’ll be kicking my boots up on this desk all day thinking about you in that low cut tank top, though,” he said, giving me a wink as I clenched my jaw again.

“You don’t know me, and secondly, I’m not sure how you remember me since I don’t remember you.”

He set his glass down again, his fingers traced the rim.

“You were only 5, but I was 8 so I suppose that makes sense. My dad brought us down to Clarence’s ranch once when you came to visit during a crazy heat wave. The whole state of Texas was under a drought, but his pool was still running. I pushed you under, and you got mad and told on me. Got a good lickin’ from my dad later that night.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t remember Wylie, or any of his brothers for that matter, but that sounded in alignment with the little I knew of the man sitting in front of me.

“So, you’ve been nursing this grudge for 22 years? It sounds like you deserved it.”

He grinned, “What happened to your sister? The pretty blonde one?”

“I only have one sister and she’s still living in Houston. She works as a manager for a major cleaning service that caters to hotels and businesses in the city.”

He chuckled. “She didn’t like dirty things even back then. Welp,” he stood up, draining the rest of his drink and tossing it on my grandfather’s messy desk, “I’m going to go rub one out in the shower and then turn in for the night. See you early in the morning. Try not to think of that image as you sleep. It gets lonely out here, so if you want some company, I’ll leave my bedroom door cracked open,” he said with a wink.

My mouth dropped open at his crassness as he left the room. I shook my head and laughed.

Wylie may be conceited, but at least I'd always know where I stood with him.

Chapter 8: Jovie

Beep, beep, beep!

My grandfather’s old alarm clock went off at 5 sharp the next morning. I rubbed my eyes exhaustively.

It’s going to take a while getting used to this.

Thankfully, I’d showered the night before, so all I had to do was hop out of bed, pull on my jeans, a tank top, and a long-sleeved button-up with my new Carhartt work boots. I hope Nash hadn’t been lying to me when he said this was a good brand.

Nash.

As I got ready for the day, my mind involuntarily drifted towards the handsome middle Cameron brother. Stumbling around in the pitch dark, I bumped into things while trying to wake up and headed to the kitchen for some coffee. I hoped Wylie wasn’t up yet so I could enjoy a moment of peace before having to endure his inappropriate innuendos. I wanted to learn more about him, but I wasn’t sure how to discreetly bring it up with Wylie today without revealing my interest and the last thing I needed was to show weakness to him.

“Damn, already late for your first day on the job. Not a good sign, Vector.” Wylie said playfully as I entered the kitchen and found him sipping a mug full of coffee with a wicked grin.

“You said 5:30?”

“That means be up by 4:30 unless you want to be wiping sleep dust out of your eyes while I'm doing 80 miles per hour on the gator down the ranch roads.”

I rolled my eyes. “5:30 means I’ll get up at 5.” I grabbed the coffee pot and poured what little was left into my insulated coffee cup. It wasn’t enough to wake up and endure Wylie’s attitude at 5 in the morning.

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