Chapter Seven
West
“Jesus Christ!” I shout and cover my eyes as my baby sister and my best friend—make that ex-best friend—attempt to cover themselves. “Why are you two fucking in my barn?”
“Your barn?” Lemon asks, and dear God, is that incredulity in her tone?
If anyone here has a right to be in disbelief, it’s me, the ranch manager, for finding my little sister and her husband—definitely my former best friend—canoodling in the fucking stables.
This is a place of business. My place of business.
It’s Colt’s too, but I may rethink his position as foreman here.
“Don’t you two have a home to go to?”
“Don’t you have your own business to mind?” Lemon shoots back. “Besides, with the way you’re working him all the damn time, I never get to see him at home anymore.”
“You’re pregnant. Why you gotta try making more babies here in the stables where the fucking horses shit?”
“Pregnant women have needs too, West. You outta know, since you’ve been spending your nights at Daisy-Mae’s and blowing off perfectly good dates that I set you up on. If you want my opinion, both are way out of your league.”
“Outta my league?” I ask in confusion.
“And women can’t get pregnant while they’re already pregnant, dumbass.” Lemon storms out of the stall in a snit and heads for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Colt, you owe me three extra orgasms when you do finally get home.”
“Whatever you want, Lemonade. I’ll see you at the house,” he calls back, and then he’s grabbing my arm and pleading with me in a hushed whisper, “You gotta help me, West. I’ve never met a woman who couldn’t be satiated.
I thought they were supposed to hate men during their pregnancy, but your sister cannot get enough.
I think I might even have a little chafing. She won’t let up.”
I shudder and peel his hand from my shoulder. “You need to stop talking right now. I do not ever ... EVER ... want to hear these details about my little sister.”
I storm off in the same direction as Lemon. Colt groans. “I think I need a medic, West. I’m dying here.”
Fuck my life.
Outside the barn, Wade, Wyatt, and Cash are all standing around gossiping like the old biddies who run the Red River Canyon Report—a social media group created to tattle on other people’s business.
“Wade, I’m taking off for the rest of the day.”
“Well, hells bells.” My brother slaps his knee like some redneck hillbilly. Jesus. What is it with everyone fixin’ to piss me off today? “Satan’s lair just froze over, fellas.”
“Yeah, yeah. Funny.” I say gruffly. “No slacking off while I’m gone.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Yes, Sir,” Cash and Wyatt both say at once, saluting me.
Wade chuckles. “Exactly where are you going, brother?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“You know Daisy’s working at the B I’m in deep shit, and I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.