Page 112 of Small Town Firsts
At that point, my brain was the consistency of the mash from my first week here. I’d eked out the last of the adrenaline wave I’d been riding. I walked out to the swing to rest my weary bones just as the first fingers of buttery yellow were inching their way across the orchard below.
Before I went home to crash, I sent a text off to Beckett for a visit.
Ronan
It’s DONE.
After I sent it, I winced at the time. Maybe I should have waited until a more reasonable hour. The birds were barely chirping.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down at the readout.
Beckett
About fucking time. On my way.
I grinned and sent him back a middle finger emoji. I should have known he was awake at this hour. He was a farmer for all intents and purposes.
While I waited, I’d just tip my head back for a few minutes.
It seemed like a blink when a motorcycle engine jerked me awake. I groaned. I wasn’t ready for Kain’s big personality on twenty minutes of sleep. Not to mention he couldn’t stop talking about the plans he had for my place.
My brain was offline at this point.
Instead, Beckett came down the walkway. He was wearing a short espresso colored leather jacket with threadbare jeans, a Brothers Three Orchard shirt, and sturdy brown boots.
His ever present Yankees cap was low over his eyes, giving me no idea of his mood. I stood to meet him in front of the workshop. As I got closer, Beckett tipped his hat back.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
He grinned. “So, you finally got your head out of your ass?”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“Hayes and Justin are on their way.”
The palms of my hands prickled. “All right then.”
“Might as well have us all here, right? Then if someone’s not happy, we have a good starting point.”
I rubbed my hand against my leg. I hadn’t entertained the thought that this was only step one of the damn thing.
Beckett arched a brow at me. “Brothers Three is a family, Ronan. We all make the decisions together. You’re still learning that—the reckoning is upon you, bud.” At what must be my blank face, Beckett threw his head back and laughed. “Relax. It’s not that serious.” He slapped my arm. “We’ll just toss you off the vista if it sucks.”
I blew out a breath that was more wheeze than laugh. “I think you’ll just end up with a sore head by lunch. A few of the brews ended up around fourteen percent.”
Beckett whistled. “That means we get to charge more, hey?”
I laughed for real this time. “This is no three dollar Budweiser.”
“Don’t knock a good Budweiser on a hot day.”
I curled my lip.
Beckett shrugged. “When that’s all you can afford, that’s what you learn to like.”
“I hear there’s morning brew.” Justin’s voice came from the mouth of the path leading to the side of the building. He lifted a gallon of what looked like water. “I’m ready.”
