Page 17 of Keep You Safe
“Hmm.”
“Does that sound mean, ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong, Adler,’ or something else?” Adler was not one to miss a chance to poke at me.
“Maybe you’re not all Hollywood, but you’re still a city boy.” I pursed my lips as we walked toward the bunkhouse. He might not be a diva demanding star treatment, but I was far from convinced he’d make it out west, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Adler made a frustrated noise. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“Nope,” I said as we arrived at the bunkhouse door. It wouldn’t do for Adler to think I was softening toward him, even if that was exactly what was happening. Damn it.
Most of the hands were already in the kitchen, either sitting at the table or milling around, waiting for chow. We hung our coats up on the row of hooks near the back door.
“This the new kid?” Reindeer asked. His real name was Randy, but he’d started on at the ranch last December. His hair that stuck up like antlers and perpetually red nose and cheeks had quickly earned him the nickname.
“Older than you, Reindeer.” I could be cranky with more than just Adler. Reindeer took life as one big joke, but I truly hoped he didn’t feel the need to hassle Adler in the hopes of getting a laugh. And I supposed it was also up to me to make introductions. “Everyone, this is Adler.”
“Adler, you know Kat.” I pointed to where she sat at the table and then to the stove where a portly middle-aged hand stood stirring a large pot. “That’s Casey. He cooked dinner.”
“Thanks, Casey.” Adler was all genuine charm as always. “Smells delicious.”
“Thank you.” Casey might be close to my age, but he wasn’t above blushing. He was the best of our rotating cooking crew and frequently swapped chores to end up making our dinner. I needed to talk to Maverick about making him the permanent cook, especially if we were going to feed guests too.
I was none too sure about feeding guests the sort of chow we usually had, but Adler and Maverick seemed convinced there were plenty of people who’d be happy to play at being a hand.
“And then we’ve got Reindeer, Chips, Motley, Jalapeño, and Doug.” I finished the introductions, gesturing at each hand in turn.
“You guys have better nicknames than the horses.” Adler grinned.
“Oh, hell naw, my mama done named me Motley,” Motley deadpanned. With his shaved head and many tattoos, he looked as ready to head out on tour as he did to help with ranch chores.
“Excellent taste.” Adler didn’t miss a beat. “What can I do to help with dinner?”
“You wanna grab a stack of plates from that cupboard?” Casey put Adler to work, and between all of us, dinner was on the table in short order. We were our usual, lively crew at the table, and I kept glancing over at Adler to see what he thought of the coarse humor and good-natured ribbing that was dished out along with the chili mac.
Adler, however, kept right on smiling, charming, and fitting in.
Huh. Maybe it wasn’t only me he wanted to charm. Maybe he was nice to the whole world, nothing special about me. I didn’t like that thought, so I kept shoveling in my chili mac to avoid contributing to the conversation.
Adler did right fine, carrying on without my help, which only made me glower that much more.
“Tell me more about the rescue horses,” he urged Kat.
“Not much to tell.” Kat shrugged, her long dark braid bouncing against her shoulders. “Way too common of a story around here. Someone bought a small hobby ranch above their means, discovered the high cost of hay and feed, and the horses were the ones to suffer when the ranch went belly up. Rescue stepped in, but the organization couldn’t line up a good placement, so I volunteered.”
“As usual.” Motley snorted. He was slightly younger than Kat’s late thirties/early forties. Giving her a hard time was one of Motley’s few hobbies. “You’re too soft-hearted.”
“I’d rather be that than foul-tempered,” she shot back. She could give as good as she got from any of the hands, but her sparring matches with Motley were legendary in the bunkhouse.
“Like Gray,” Reindeer added slyly. I’d hired him on when we’d been desperate for hands willing to work for Maverick’s father’s below-market wages, and he was a little too fond of giving me shit because he knew I couldn’t afford to sack him simply for mouthing off.
“Hey now.” Casey was our good-natured peacemaker.
“It’s true.” Chips spoke up for the first time all dinner. Somewhere in his late twenties, he got along with Reindeer but was quieter than his friend. “Gray’s been pissed off ever since Maverick came up with that fool dude ranch idea.”
“How about we don’t badmouth Maverick with his friend right here?” Casey suggested before I could.
“No, go on.” Adler gestured with his fork. He offered a generous smile. “I’m here as one of you. If you’re not happy with the dude ranch idea, I’m not going to tattle. Heck, your complaints might help me brainstorm things that would make the idea work better.”
“I don’t want strangers in our bunkhouse,” Chips grumbled. At least he didn’t have the spicy tortilla chip breath that had earned him his name tonight. He wore his hair in a military short buzz, and he was forever leaving his hat in places. As a result, his skin was ruddy from a summer spent in the sun. “No offense.”
