Page 18 of Wrangled

“Hey, I’m going as fast as I can,” he replied, a little breathless. “Wanna help me rub one out quicker?” I snorted, and he let out a rough chuckle. “Then shut the fuck up and leave me to my fantasy.”

I couldn’t resist. “Who’re you fantasizing about?”

“Sometimes it’s Scarlett Johansson, but tonight?” Another ragged chuckle. “It might be you.”

Salvation was growing more interesting by the minute, and while I was conscious of having a helluva lot dumped on me the first day, I was determined.

Let them try their sink-or-swim routine.

This was one dude who was gonna swim.

Chapter Five

Robert

By the time I’d lain awake for a few hours, I realized it was a pointless exercise. I got up, pulled on my robe, and went downstairs to the kitchen in search of that tea Matt had bought for me once. He’d claimed it would help me sleep.

I was skeptical, so skeptical I’d never even tried it, but I was also desperate. I didn’t function well on less than six hours’ sleep, and lately I was lucky if I achieved that.

Outside, it was still dark, but I could see down the hill to where white lights illuminated the barns and the bunkhouse. I filled the kettle, and pretty soon its noise shattered the quiet, growing ever louder as it neared boiling. The box of chamomile tea had been shoved to the back of the cabinet, gathering dust.

Maybe it was about time I tried it.

As I dropped a tea bag into a cup, my phone buzzed on the table, and I peered at the screen. It was a text from Diana.

Hope you were okay today.

I should have ignored it. No good ever came of middle of the night conversations. It obviously wasn’t urgent. It could wait until morning.

Except… I needed to talk. I laid the blame for that at Zeeb’s door. He’d started this ball rolling.

I clicked on call. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“Haven’t been to sleep yet.”

I huffed. “That makes two of us.” The kettle beeped, and I poured water over the tea bag.

“You in the kitchen?”

“Uh-huh. Making tea.”

“Okay, where’s my brother? What have you done with him?”

I read the instructions on the box as to how long I needed to leave it to steep. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you ever need a transfusion, they’re gonna be in for a shock. What runs through your veins is pure coffee.”

“Any particular variety?” I quipped.

“Yes, Colombian.”

I decided the tea had steeped enough, and squeezed the bag against the side of the cup. “Okay, you’ve established we’re both insomniacs. And by the way, I hope you’re not in bed. I’ll be on Newt’s shit list if you wake him up talking to me. Why did you text?”

“Relax, I’m in the kitchen too. I was going to call you. Kept meaning to do it all day.” She paused. “But I kept putting it off too.”

I picked up my cup and wandered into the living room. I set it down on the coffee table, and switched on one of the lamps, flooding the dark room with warm light. “You call me every day. What makes today so different?”

“Because of what today is. Orwas, given the time.”

---