Chapter 4 If There’s One Thing I’m Good At
If There's One Thing I'm Good At
Tripp
Sawyer told me and Wes to get our asses to Pops’ house for a “family” meeting, so once we finish moving the cows that still haven’t calved to a new pasture, we bring Luci and June back to the stable.
It’s small—only able to house half a dozen horses—but a much larger one is being built, along with a training paddock.
Wes is in his element running the ranch. He’s only been here five months, but he’s settled in and found his place. He had big plans for Dawson Ranch, and I was eager to see it grow and thrive under his stewardship.
“Why do you think Sawyer’s calling a meeting?” I ask.
Wes shrugs. “She sounded annoyed.”
“Doesn’t she always?”
He swings a narrowed gaze my way, but I just smirk.
Sawyer has never been the sweet and demure type. That’s no secret. But it seems to suit Wes just fine. I think he likes being around someone who’s a straight shooter. God knows he’s not good at sugarcoating shit.
We quickly untack the horses at the stable and then head inside the old two-story farmhouse, where Sawyer and Quinn are both waiting in the kitchen.
I lean against the counter, arching a brow at Quinn as I cross my arms over my chest. She glances at Sawyer, who looks like she’s about to lose her shit on someone. I’d really love to get out of here before she takes aim at me.
“So, what’s this meeting about?” Wes asks.
Quinn sighs, “We talked to Dr. Berk at the hospital today. She mentioned Pops’ recovery will take some time and suggested having him in a skilled nursing facility at first until he gets a bit stronger.
After that, he’ll have physical therapy and follow-up appointments with his doctor and nutritionist.”
Wes frowns and slides a palm over his face. “Great. Do we want to set up a rotating schedule? I might need to hire an extra hand sooner rather than later.”
Quinn shakes her head. “You can leave Pops to me.”
Wes stations his hands on his hips. “Quinn, I don’t expect you to make the trip from the city for every appointment. You have a job too.”
A flicker of emotion crosses Quinn’s features before they go back to the impassive mask. “Actually, I don’t.”
Wes’ eyes go wide. “What?”
“I quit my job,” she says with a shrug, running her fingers through her hair and pulling it up into a clip absentmindedly. “It’s a long story that I don’t want to get into right now, but I’m currently unemployed and available to help with Pops full time.”
“Quinn, that’s a lot. Are you sure?” Sawyer asks.
“It’s the least I can do, and honestly, I could use a change of scenery for a bit.”
She looks sad when she says it—or maybe just weary. I can’t quite read her like I used to. I’m out of practice.
Wes shoots her a questioning look, but Quinn just shakes her head at him. And now I’m even more curious about what she’s not telling us.
Quinn’s always had a good head on her shoulders—the voice of reason keeping Sawyer and Allie out of trouble every summer.
She’s always been focused on her career, which makes it hard to imagine her walking away from it without a reason.
Something’s off, but for now, I’m just excited she’s here, even though I don’t know the whole story yet.
“Great. Now that that’s been decided, he’ll also be on a strict diet.” She passes us all a piece of paper with a list a mile long of foods he shouldn’t be eating.
“Jesus Christ,” Wes mumbles.
“I’m making sure everyone in town knows they can’t be letting him eat any of this stuff.”
“Maybe you could just print off some flyers and put them up all over town to save some time,” I quip, slipping the paper into my back pocket.
Quinn glares at me. “You can joke all you want, but Pops didn’t take any of this seriously last time, and I’m not letting him get away with killing himself because he can’t be bothered to follow a few rules.”
My lips twitch. It’s nice to see Quinn’s love of rules hasn’t changed.
“You don’t need flyers,” Wes says. “Just tell Mrs. Mackey and Linda Andreasen. I’m sure they’ll spread the word through town.”
He presses a kiss to the top of Sawyer’s head before leading the way back outside where there’s work still waiting for us.
Once we’re out of earshot, I ask, “Do you think it’s weird that Quinn just up and quit her job?”
He shrugs. “Maybe a little weird, but I don’t think you need to worry about Quinn.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.”
Quinn could take care of herself. That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious, though. I knew there was more to it than she was letting on. I knew there was a story. And I was dying to hear it.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it's getting Quinn to tell me exactly what's on her mind.