Page 89 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“Why not?”
It’s my turn to throw her a knowing look. “You know why.”
“Ugh.” Rose’s blue eyes roll back in a theatric huff. “You and Flynn. So muchdrama.”
“What?” I laugh, pointing to my chest. “Me?”
“You heard me. You think I wasn’t close to slamming Flynn’s head under a car hood when he went all mamsie-pamsie on Jackie?”
“Mansie-pamsie?” Where does my sister come up with this stuff?
Ignoring me, Rose continues her rant. “Society likes to portray women as these weak little emotional basket cases, but I swear, men take it to a whole new level. It’s the equivalent of a man-cold, but mental.”
“Ouch.” She shoots me a look that has me throwing up my hands. “Although probably warranted.”
Her arms cross in a hunch over her legs. “Hmph.”
I probably shouldn’t tell her that when she’s grumpy she’s cute. Reminds me of when she was little and I wouldn’t let her melt her Barbie dolls’ faces in the sun with a magnifying glass.
We sit quietly, watching the sun lower in the sky.
“Mom and Dad messed you and Flynn up in different ways. But they aren’t you, and the people you love aren’t them.”
Still watching the sunsetcolors bathe the land, I nudge her with a smile. “When did you get so smart?”
“Please.” She straightens, looking far more mature than I ever remember. “I’ve always been this smart. You were just too stupid to realize.”
And then the maturity is gone.
Smiling, I hook her into my side and give her a noogie.
“Ah! Stop! My hair! My hair!” Managing to wiggle free, she pushes me away. “And ew, you stink!”
My shoulders shift, my sweat-soaked shirt clinging to me. “That’s ranch work for you.”
She stands, brushing off her jeans and grabbing my gloves off the ground. “Maybe it’s time you look into another line of work.”
Instead of bristling at the thought, I nod. “Maybe.”
Rose eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
I shrug.
“Well, I’ll be.” She pulls one of the work gloves on and waves me up off the bale with her other hand.
Muscles groan and joints pop. “Argh.” I stagger a bit before I can straighten my legs fully.
Tossing me the other glove, she motions to the bale. “Come on, old man. I’ll help you load the last of these bales if you tell me about this charity you’re secretly running.”
Not about to say no to an extra set of hands now that my body has made its displeasure known, I simply glove up. Each using our gloved hand to grab the twine securing the bails, we heft and swing.
And while we work, I talk. I talk about TJ and Brian and the rest of the boys. How it started with just Tucker in the Big Brothers program, before I realized I could help a lot more kids at once if I started my own. How the kids can come here and just be kids. Not worry about unsafe neighborhoods, where their next meal comes from or outdated textbooks. I talk about how I’d like to expand the program with scholarship funds and about Jules’ suggestion to include girls. About all the things I’d like to do with the program if I had the time.
When we’re done, Rose is smiling, despite her hair being a tangled mess and her T-shirt all sweaty. “That’s amazing, Holt.” She pulls off her glove, tossing into the back of the truck. “As corny as it sounds, this sounds like your calling.”
I flex my hand, trying to work out the stiffness. “But, if I did give it my all, I wouldn’t be able to run the ranch like Gramps did.”
“You think Gramps wanted you to be unhappy? You think he’d want you to give up helping people, kids no less, so you can continue to be some weirdo rich oil man who tosses hay bales around all day like he did?”
