Page 107 of Strung Along
An idea pops into my head, a no-good, nosey idea, but I let it run free before I can stop myself.
“Would you mind helping me out with Banana this morning? I know you’re probably really busy, but there are still so many things I don’t know about when it comes to her. It would be really?—”
He cuts me off with a squeeze to my shoulder. “You done eatin’? I got some time now.”
“Are you not going to eat?”
The kitchen is packed now with so many unfamiliar faces that I try to stack in my memory. Most of them don’t bother to sit and eat, instead just holding their plates in their hands and scarfing it back like it’s the last meal they’ll ever have. A couple of them plunk down at the table in the chairs across from me. They’re both young guys, probably a few years younger than me.
One has shoulder-length black hair that explodes in a wild mess when he drops his hat to the table beside his plate, and the other has his blond hair shaved close to his scalp, a ratty baseball cap in his lap.
Their manners are nice to see, especially when it comes to thanking Eliza for the meal. I smile at them in approval.
“I eat before these lazy fucks have even woken up,” Wade chuffs behind me.
The guy with the long hair flashes me an easy grin. “Easy, Wade. Don’t ruin my chance with the pretty lady before I’ve even introduced myself.”
“Brody’ll lock you in the pen with Zeus and feed him the key if you try it with his woman, Johnny,” Wade warns, and I laugh at the humour beneath his threat.
“His woman? I’m not seeing him here to compete with me,” Johnny replies.
“Cool your jets, Casanova,” his friend mutters over a mouthful of pancake. “I’m Thomas, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. Who’s Zeus?” I ask.
“The meanest bull on Steele Ranch. A nasty fucker with a love for kicking ribs in,” Thomas says with a wince.
Wade releases my shoulder and grabs my plate. He looks down at me, gaze serious. “You’ll stay clear of him.”
“I’ve got no desire to meet an angry bull.”
“Good. Why don’t you go grab a pair of overalls from Brody’s old room so you don’t ruin your clothes, and then I’ll meet you out back.”
I eye the plate in his hand. “Between you and Eliza, I haven’t had to do a damn thing around here. Please put me to work out there.”
“You got my word, darlin’. I’ll see you in a bit.” And then he’s bringing my plate to the sink and kissing his wife on the cheek before starting on the dishes waiting in the bubbly water.
I nod to the two guys at the table and set off to change my clothes. After throwing my hair up, I step into the small closet in the room I crashed in last night and root through the clothes hanging on the rod. I thought this may have been Brody’s old room when I first slipped inside last night, but I was too tired to snoop. There’s not much to root through anyway, but the clothes left hanging confirm my suspicions. None of the sweatshirts or overalls would fit Brody the man, but they would Brody the teenager.
And hopefully they’ll fit me too.
I snatch a pair of denim overalls and wiggle into them, relieved when they fit just a bit too big. I’ll have to shove the legs into my boots to keep from tripping over them. Teenage Brody was tall too.
There’s a pep in my step as I make my way through the house and put my coat and boots on before stepping on the back porch. Wade is already waiting, his hat and boots on, arms leaning on the deck rail.
“Have you ever mucked a shed before?” he asks, staring at me over his shoulder with a slight tilt of his lips.
“Never. But I’d love to learn.”
So for the next half hour, I do just that.
“I haven’t hadto muck nothin’ in years,” Wade admits once we’ve finished cleaning up Banana’s shed.
Sweat slicks my forehead and makes the hairs that have fallen out of my ponytail stick to my skin. For the first time since moving here, I’m grateful for the freezing temperature.
“You really didn’t have to today either. It wasn’t the most complicated thing in the world,” I tease. Albeit incredibly gross.
He shrugs and leans his rake/fork-looking tool against the side of the shelter. I set mine beside it, and Banana trails behind me, trotting into the snow. She butts her head against his thigh, demanding some attention. I roll my lips to hide a smile when the rough old man drops his hand to scratch the top of her head.