Page 54 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“Splinter, I think.”
“Splinter?” I backhand his chest. “All that commotion for a splinter?”
“Hey. It’s a big splinter.” He turns his foot over and squints at it. “Probably.”
I give him another slap, this one harder and maybe in retaliation for making me panic. “All right, Sally Sue. Let’s go pick you out a Mickey Mouse Band-Aid, shall we?”
Fifteen
Bi-phase
Jules
“Cannonball!”a kid yells at the top of his lungs before launching himself off the dock. It’s taking all my will power not to join in, but seeing as I didn’t bring my suit, and Holt would probably frown on me swimming in my undies, I have magnanimously stepped back from showing these kids how it’s done.
“Easy there, Ryan, don’t slip on the deck!” Holt calls out to the kid, who’s already underwater and oblivious to his concern.
“Chill. Let the kids have their fun.” He glares at me. “Besides, in the immortal words of Keanu Reeves, ‘chicks dig scars.’”
His lip quirks up on one side. “Is that right?”
I trace my fingers down his muscular forearms, gliding over the scar that cuts down the one side. “Yes. That’s right.”
He’s just about to kiss me when I get cock blocked by a ten-year-old.
“You coming, Holt?” The kid has an overbite that would put a chipmunk to shame, but still manages to be cute as hell.
“Nah, I’m going to keep Ms. Starr company while you swim.”
The kid frowns, too young to understand the attraction of the female form, before shrugging and making his way to the edge of the water.
A motor sounds behind me and I turn to see Tucker hopping out of a pickup. Holt maneuvers to his feet, walking over to help unload the fishing gear from the truck bed.
For the next fifteen minutes the men talk over the plan for the ranch, mentioning field rotation, feed quality and all sorts of stuff I haven’t got a clue about. Holt’s face is blank, his tone serious, while Tucker grins with each task he’s given, looking ready to get started on the day.
Holt, finally assured that things will go well without him, waves Tucker to work and sits back down beside me.
Kids squeal, water splashes, and the sun rises higher over the ranch. My short time here has taught me a bit about what it takes to run such a large operation. Now when I see the crew and acres of land, I don’t just think how pretty, but I think of how much work goes into it.
“So this was your dream, huh?” I squint into the light, looking out across the fields beyond the pond. “Working the ranch?”
“Dream?” Holt shrugs. “Maybe.”
That gets my attention. “Maybe? Why else would an oil baron work his ass off on a ranch if it isn’t his dream?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I realize I’ve asked a question that could lead to feelings. Surprisingly, I still want the answer. I nudge his shoulder. “Huh?”
He sighs, sounding resigned. “It’s where I was happiest.”
“Happiest?” He nods, confusing me. Everything I’ve heard so far from the West siblings implied their childhood hadn’t been the best. “You grew up here, didn’t you? Isn’t this where you raised Flynn and Rose?”
“I’m not sure I did much raising.” His expression is rueful. “More like supervising. And yes, this is where I moved them, but this isn’t where I grew up.”
Oh my God, this guy could never be in communications. And coming from me, that is saying something. “Explain.”
“Dad grew up here with his parents, my grandparents, but when he married Mom she had him buy a penthouse in the city. Said she liked to be in the thick of things.” His tone gives away his feelings on that decision. “I was eighteen when they died in a drag race. That’s when I moved Flynn and Rose to the ranch for good.”
“So you grew up in the city?” He nods. “You?”He nods again, this time with a smile.“Holt West was a city boy? Really?”
