Authors: Adriana Law
Drew interrupted, “So, the ranch is up for sale? When did
Stratford decide to sell?”
“Right before he signed the ranch over to me. I’m the one in
charge now.”
His heavy glare turned to Megan. Whoa, the guy could shift from
flirtatious riff raff to downright frigid in the matter of a heartbeat. “What
about the people who live here. Most of them have been in residence for more
than thirty years….Birdie, Ms. Susan, Emma, Tink…where are they all supposed to
go? Tink doesn’t even have the full use of his hands anymore! And Griffin?
Who’s going to take in a boy that doesn’t talk?”
Megan’s mouth opened, and then snapped closed. Shit, she had a lot
of hicks to toss out. More than anticipated—and she assumed Drew had failed to
mention himself as one of the residences. That brought the total to six. Six
people living on a rundown ranch. By the looks of the place they’d been
freeloading off of Paul for… well, ever since his brother’s death. Her chin
came up as she resolved to feel no guilt over tossing the freeloaders out on
their ass’s. She was about to tell Drew he could be the first one packing when
Robbie spoke up. “I’m sure Stratford plans on giving everyone adequate time to
find a new place, and compensate you all well.”
Compensation! What the hell for! Nobody had done a damn thing to
the place as far as Megan could tell.
Drew’s eyes narrowed on her. What did he want? Reassurance?
Bitches rarely impressed men, at least not real men, and Megan happened to be
attracted to the only “man” standing there, so she did what any girl wanting to
make a lasting first impression would do… she bullshitted her way through a
reply. “Of course! No one’s going anywhere until I have a serious buyer. You’ll
all have as long as you need.” She placed her hand in the crook of Robbie’s
arm, and smiled graciously up at him. “Speaking of selling, would you like to
take a look at the ranch? See what you recommend being done before we put it on
the market?”
“Yeah, sure. Just let me put your luggage in the back of my truck,
and I’ll drive us up to the house.” Robbie glanced around. “Where’s the rest of
it?” he said, studying her one bag with a confused expression on his face.
“That’s it,” Megan returned. No need to tell him about the whole
cabby incident.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl go anywhere without dragging
her entire closet along with her. I’m impressed.”
“It’s the country… how much does a girl need?” She pulled herself
up in the cab of the truck. She could sense the invisible darts being aimed at
the bull’s-eye in the center of her back, but she could care less. Drew was out
on his tight rump in two weeks, whether he liked it or not.
****
Megan waved one last time at Robbie as
he backed out of the drive. She held her smile. Behind her posthole diggers
pulverized the ground, rammed deep and hard.
Muscles flared.
Chunk. Chunk. Ching!
Grunts.
Sweat.
Her stomach gurgled. He was disgusting! Bronze, filthy—and
irritating!
“So Filly, did you get it all figured out? Did Robster agree to
all your demands? I bet you had a hefty little list.” Drew’s voice took on a
female quality as he mocked her, his head bobbed as he started on a new hole.
“I don’t like the toilet being in front of the window. Think you could rip it
up and put me in a gold, shiny new one? I don’t like not having my own room…
could you be a dear Robbie and build me on a master suite with a canopy bed?
Oh, and while you’re at it could you throw in some monogrammed, white fluffy,
towels?”
As soon as Robbie’s truck was out of sight she whirled around. “As
a matter of fact… I would like my own room, but instead of building on a new
one…. I’ve decided to just take yours. And yes… A toilet in front of a window is
the most idiotic thing I’ve ever seen. I’m guessing since you’re the handyman
around here—it was your brilliant idea to ever put it there in the first place.
And no, I won’t ask for a “gold, shiny new one” because you’d only piss on it.”
She stopped, took a breath, and waved a dismissive hand at him. “And I’d never
ask for white towels for you to put your stink all over!”
Drew crossed his legs, leaned on the post hole diggers, his chin
resting on his folded hands. His lip twitched.
She continued, “What are you doing anyway?”
“Work.” He bent, scooped up the discarded shirt off the ground,
and blotted his damp, sticky flesh with it. “You do know what that is, or do
you need a demonstration?”
“No, I don’t need a demonstration. I thought you were further up
the road earlier, and now all of a sudden you’re up here beside the house. Are
you spying?”
“Hell no, I’m working.”
“You have enough fences already. Too many! What you need to be
working on is the house.”
“I thought that’s what you hired Robbie for? Don’t tell me he’s
already having difficulty meeting your needs.” He shook his head in mock
exasperation, “I could’ve told you. His girlfriend keeps him on a pretty short
leash. I hear he has trouble meeting her needs too. Sad really, a hot woman like
her not being serviced properly. Hell, I considered offering my help, but
thought I might spoil her to the finer things in life.” He went back to
digging. “Yep, I should have warned you.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.”
Lip twitch.
Muscles flared.
Chunk. Chunk. Ching!
Grunts.
Sweat.
She yelled and pointed a white-tipped nail in his direction as he
circled the hole, taping and piling clumps of dirt by the side. “Annoying is
what you are! You have sat here mooching off Paul, while not doing a damn thing
to earn your room and board! It ends today! You’ll sleep on the couch…do
whatever Robbie instructs you to do…and when you slink away, which will be
soon, you can take that good-for-nothing Tink with you!”
“You met him?”
“Yes. He was in the kitchen doing what I assume he always does,
since he looks like he could squirt out a baby any day now!”
He flung the post hole diggers to the ground and took five
determined steps looking every bit of a man fixing to whop a woman. She flinched,
clamped her eyes shut waiting for him to do it. As soon as he touched her, he
was out, not in two weeks, but today.
He stopped, sucked in a couple deep calming breaths. “Don’t talk
shit about Tink!”
Would she dare?
One second. Two second. Three second. Oh yes, she would. “Just
because he’s a cripple doesn’t mean I have to support him for the rest of his
life. That’s not the way the world works… at least not where I’m from.” She
waited. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not singling the man out. You’re ALL
out in two weeks. Unless the new owner thinks any of you are worth keeping
around, which I don’t see happening.”
“Tink…” he shook his head attempting to reign in some of the
anger. “Tink built this damn ranch, like he built most of the homes in Logan
County! He’s a hard ass worker!”
“Used to be a worker, past tense! He is not my responsibility… you
care for him so much, you find somewhere for him to go!”
Reasoning with her was useless. Drew said nothing more.
****
“It’s really not as bad as I expected. I guess it could be
worse….the house I mean, on the inside.” Megan said as Birdie moved around the
kitchen with purpose. Megan sat at the kitchen table. Her fingertips spread the
frost on the glass of Lemonade in her hand. Ice clinked as she took a sip, the
tartness of the drink making her shiver.
Why they called the woman birdie was a mystery. Like everything
else, she was opposite of what Megan expected. She was a plump, big breasted
woman in an apron, with rosy cherub cheeks that constantly stayed chapped from
the heat of the gas stove. And was the only one so far, who had been kind to
Megan.
“At least Ms. Susan and Emma have managed to keep the house clean
with those three lazy guys around. I don’t know how, since I’m sure Drew alone
makes a horrible mess.”
“Drew’s not so bad. He’s a real charmer, wouldn’t have minded
meeting him when I was a tad bit younger though, he would have already been
spoken for if I had. ” The women pricked the crust of her impressive apple pie
with a fork, putting on the finishing touches before it went into the oven.
“Makes my body heat just thinking about the skills the boy’s bound to have in
the bedroom.”
Megan sucked her lemonade down the wrong way. She sputtered and
coughed wiping dribbles of lemonade from her chin. “Well, you are definitely
out of the loop if you find him appealing. Does he ever wear a shirt?”
Birdie—pie in hand—stopped deep in thought. “Too often I believe
so. Don’t you dare tell me you’re not interested….the color in your cheeks at
the mention of the boy’s name says you feel more than you're letting on. ” The
oven door squeaked as she opened it and slid in the pie. She turned offering
Megan the warmest smile cleaning her hands on her apron. “Drew is a good boy,
just give him some time….you’ll see.”
“Doubt it,” Megan wanted to say more, how Birdie seemed like an
intelligent woman but had the whole Drew thing completely mixed up. If Megan’s
face heated at the mention of his name, it was because he got on her nerves.
She decided the best thing she could do was change the subject. “Are you making
a salad to go with dinner?”
Birdie clutched at her apron with laughter and waved a dismissive
hand as she went to sit down in the chair across from Megan. “Heavens no, this
is a meat and potatoes bunch.” seeing the disappointment on Megan’s face
Birdie’s round bottom never made it to the chair, “but I don’t mind making you
one.”
“Thanks. Do you hate me… like the others?” Megan asked.
Crisp lettuce, ripe tomatoes, pickling cucumbers, and radishes
went into the cast iron sink under a steady stream of water. Birdie spoke as
she diced all the ingredients arranging them creatively in a bowl. “They all
know you’re right. It’s time to pass this place on to a new owner, someone that
will make it a home. Hopefully a nice, young couple with children. I don’t
suspect they’ll need a cook?”
Megan shrugged, “Maybe.” She shouldn’t feel guilt over informing
everyone they needed to make arrangements to move. It wasn’t her fault they’d
laid around expecting to stay indefinitely. They had to know this day was
coming.
Birdie offered her a smile. “It’s okay honey. No one blames you.”
“Something smells good! What’s for dinner?” Drew stopped mid-step,
an intense scowl darkened his face as he noticed Megan at the table. “Oh… it’s
you. I thought maybe you’d checked into a hotel seeing as how this place
doesn’t suit you. Guess you’ve decided to rough it with the hired help?”
At least he was wearing a shirt. A white T-shirt with a few holes
showing the olive tone of his flesh on his belly, but a shirt all the same.
“Don’t you give Megan grief, and wash your hands before you come
over here. She already doubts your ability to clean yourself.”
He went straight for the stove, grabbed a warm biscuit from the
pan balanced over two burners. He planted a firm kiss on the woman’s right
cheek. “Now birddog…. you know I don’t care what she thinks.”
She shoved his shoulder. “Well you better. You’re never going to
snag a woman with that attitude.”
He plopped down in the seat across from Megan. He crumbled off
small pieces of the biscuit tossing them in the air catching them with his
mouth. “Maybe I don’t want one.”
“What are you, six?” Megan snapped.
He continued fingering his biscuit, never once taking the time to
actually look at her. “Nope, just not all cranky like you.”
Spite’s a horrible emotion, Megan’s eyes lit with it. “So, you’re
no longer worried about being homeless?”
“Hey ho, what have I missed?” Tink sang as he entered the kitchen.
He stopped next to Drew and clamped a friendly hand on his shoulder. The two
exchanged a look that said they had already been talking about Megan behind her
back. And most likely it wasn’t good. “Are you in here fraternizing with the
enemy?”