Ride Along #2
I typically don’t smoke in the truck. I also don’t smoke this early.
But desperate times call for nicotine. Lots and lots of nicotine.
My canister of nicotine pouches is tucked safely in my back pocket, thank fuck.
Another gross habit, but again, I gotta get my kicks somewhere.
If the occasional nicotine buzz is my only vice, I figure I’m doing all right.
“Didn’t you just say that I was the sheriff?
” I hang my hand out the open window, the cigar smoke catching in the breeze.
“That means I make the rules around here, and the rules say that you bein’ on the ranch is a waste of everyone’s time and money.
I’m furious with my father for hiring you.
” I shove the cigar back in my mouth in an effort not to lose my shit.
“I’m furious he thinks we need to ‘shake things up.’”
But Lainey, being the pain in the ass she is, just looks at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you feel better getting that off your chest?”
I chuckle darkly. “Ha. Actually…I don’t feel better, no.”
“Maybe it will work for me, then.” She takes a breath.
“I don’t think you’re pissed off because your dad hired me.
I think you’re pissed that he didn’t tell you he hired me.
Your ego is bruised, and now you’re being all moody and smoking your cancer sticks because your feelings got hurt. But instead of saying that out loud—”
“Hey. I tried talking to my dad.”
“But you didn’t talk to him, did you?”
Silence.
She’s right, damn it. Then again, Dad was the one who shut me down. I was being rude.
So sue me.
Maybe a little righteous anger feels good every once in a while. Better than the anger that comes from sadness or from being overwhelmed or feeling lonely.
“So now you’re aiming your shit fit at me,” Lainey continues. “Which, whatever, do what you want. But your dad already paid me a deposit. And I’m already brainstorming some really solid concepts for y’all. This is happening, Colton, whether you’re in or not.”
I nearly bite off the end of the cigar. “You done with your speech yet?”
“I’m not. And really, what’s the big deal anyway?
Do you honestly believe having no website is better than having an expertly crafted one that captures who y’all are and the value of what y’all do?
Don’t you want to inspire people? Aren’t you proud of what you’ve built here?
Don’t you wanna show it off to the world?
” She gestures out the windshield. “I’m not a threat, Colton.
I’m an ally, and I’m doing you a huge goddamn favor by sticking around despite the fact that you’re being an absolute prick. ”
I puff on my cigar. I do not have pants feelings about how brutally honest she’s being. Who confronts shit head-on like this?
Who’s that brave?
And since when is it a turn-on to be called out this way?
“Now are you done?” I keep my voice even, despite the way my blood riots inside my skin.
“I think so.” She blows out a breath. “Whew, that actually felt good for me.”
“You gotta stop.”
“What?”
“Teeing me up.”
The realization hits her, and she laughs. “Oh. Teeing you up for inappropriate jokes, you mean. That one wasn’t intentional, I promise.”
“And I promise you this.” I hold my cigar between my thumb and forefinger and turn my head so we meet eyes.
“You’re gonna leave here knowing the difference between what’s truly important and what’s just plain bullshit.
What’s a website got to do with breeding the healthiest, happiest, finest horses this side of the Colorado River?
What about the cattle we raise, the people we employ, the land we break our backs to care for day in and day out, rain or shine?
Those are the things that matter. Those are the only people I care about inspiring.
I don’t care how things look. I care about how things are. ”
“Look at you, going deep. I like it.”
I suck in a breath through my nose. “Not gonna acknowledge that one.”
“But you just did.”
I take a long pull on my cigar. The nicotine is hitting my bloodstream, loosening the knot in my gut.
I keep waiting for Lainey to pull the stopper out of that bottle of Woodford she’s still holding.
It’d be hugely unprofessional of her to drink on the job.
Also problematic. But I kinda wanna see her let her hair down.
Kinda wanna see her mess up. I tell myself it’s just more ammo I can bring to Dad when shit inevitably hits the fan.
But I know there are other reasons I wanna see how far I can push this woman. I like how she keeps it real.
I like it a little too much. And that’s just asking for trouble.
“A new website and social media accounts or whatever are only going to bring us unwanted attention that will take us away from our families and our livelihood,” I continue. “It’s only going to distract us from the work we do. The real work of keeping living beings alive and healthy.”
I know the arrow hits its mark because she looks away and is quiet for a full beat. Her throat works on a swallow. I notice the way she tucks errant waves behind her ears, revealing lobes that are pierced to within an inch of their life.
What else does she have pierced?
My dick twitches. I look away.
It was a shithead thing to imply that her work doesn’t matter. But here, it really doesn’t. Maybe it’s a big deal in big fancy places like Fort Worth and Dallas and Austin. There, people want attention.
Here, we just want to survive another season.
Granted, thanks to Dad’s efforts, we’re cushioned somewhat from disaster. But all it takes is one bad harvest, one bad flood, one bad year in the commodities market, and we could very well be back to square one.
I absolutely hate that we’re focusing on this right now, branding and websites, when we should be focusing on the fact that we saw historic flooding last year. We need levees. Plans to build future structures on higher ground.
Don’t get me started on unstable beef prices.
Despite the fact that our herd is somewhat small at one thousand head of cattle, the pain we feel during big price fluctuations is real.
Lower beef prices equal decreased demand for cows, and that equals decreased demand for the horses that ranchers use to herd said cows.
Those horses are our livelihood.
“Surviving isn’t enough,” Lainey says at last. “Maybe if you aimed a little higher in life, you wouldn’t be so threatened by my talent.
Because I am talented. You say you break your back?
So do I. I’ve generated millions of dollars in revenue for my clients.
Hell, I started my own damn company when I was nineteen.
Hired a lawyer to file the LLC paperwork and everything. What were you doing at nineteen?”
I lift the fingers I have on the wheel, like her résumé don’t impress the hell out of me. “Building a legacy.”
“Slash jerking off in the bunkhouse.”
“Hey! Jerking off in the bunkhouse is a rite of passage in these parts.”
Did I just cross a line? Joking around is one thing. Flirting is another.
Her lips twitch. Something catches inside my chest. I ignore it.
“You’re mean,” she says.
“I ain’t got time to beat around the bush. Would you rather I bullshit you, then shoot you in the back on your way to church?”
Lainey puts a hand on her forehead and smooths back her hair. “You’ve baked a lot of literary devices into that sentence, so I can’t really figure out what you’re getting at. But I appreciate honesty, always. You don’t have to be such an ass about it, though.”
“You think I’m an ass?” I hang a quick left and park in front of one of the newer buildings on our property. “Just wait ’til you meet the guys who actually do jerk off in the bunkhouse.”
Lainey groans, tucking the bottle of Woodford back into the glove box. “I’m sorry I ever mentioned that.”
“You know what?” I kill the ignition. “Maybe I will teach you a few things today about being a rancher. Rule number one: Don’t apologize unless you mean it.”
She pushes open her door. “Definitely not apologizing for the handcuff moment, then.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
She’s quick.
She’s funny.
She’s a big fucking problem.