It wasn’t that I didn’t love it here, because I did. It was just that I didn’t want to do the kind of work that would be required of me.
I loved my job in Dallas.
I loved it so much that I didn’t want to move down here and be forced to quit.
Yet my granddad’s health was more important than my wants and desires, which was why I gave up my dream job and came home.
“I wanted to go to school in Dallas, away from here,” I answered. “And I did. Got my bachelor’s degree in computer science with a minor in criminal justice. I started a job with the Dallas Police Department as a crime scene analyst and really loved the job.”
“But then your granddad had his heart attack,” he guessed.
I nodded. “After I heard about his health, I started to get ready to move. Shut my life in Dallas down, then moved back home.” I paused. “I’m about to use what’s left of my savings…”
“That you didn’t spend on Scooby?” he teased.
I ignored him. “…to buy myself an RV so I don’t have to live with my granddad. He’s so freakin’ stubborn and wants me to go find myself a place in town. I’m compromising by living in the RV. At least he can’t say that I’m ‘under his feet’ all the time.”
And why the hell was I telling this man my woes?
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I got to the wooden fence that separated our property from the Valentine property. “Have a good day. Oh, and remember that the asshole likes oats.”
With that, I walked through the gate and closed it quietly behind me, wondering who had fixed it since the last time I’d used it earlier in the week.
I heard Ace sigh long and loud behind me as if he was trying to decide if I was being serious or not—spoiler alert, I was. That goddamn horse could go fuck herself on a cactus for all I cared. A, she almost killed me. And B, she made three grown men want to kill me.
There was only so much a girl could take.
***
Ace
“Do you think she’s being serious about this horse?” Banks asked, sounding amused.
“Yes,” I said as I walked over to the horse and inspected her.
She was a good-looking horse, but Codie was right about something. She had some learning to be done. One of which was to take care of her owner, because if she didn’t, her owner wouldn’t want to take care of her.
“Anyway, do we keep her, or take her back?” Callum asked.
I looked over at my other brother and grinned. “We’ll keep her. Codie will come to her senses eventually.”
Right?
“In the meantime,” Banks said. “How about we talk about our ranch hands and where we’re going to put them when we begin working on our new house and get rid of the trailer and have to kick them out of the loft above the barn?”
I turned and surveyed the bunkhouse that was barely big enough for three grown men, let alone nine, and shrugged.
“They’re not all going to be here at once,” I said. “Remy is still active-duty and has no plans to leave the Navy just yet. Jensen is still in Kuwait with the Marines until next month. And Jasper and Hansen are the only two that’ll be here by the end of the month. So, for right now, I think we should just shove a couple into each room of the trailer once we move it and we’ll figure out the rest as the time comes.”
Jasper, Remy, Jensen, Colt, and Hansen had all grown up with the rest of the Valentine boys—at least the last few years before we’d turned eighteen—in the same foster home—after our parents had died. Each of us had taken our own paths in life, but somehow, we always ended up getting right back together when one or all of us had leave at the same time.
“Negative,” an amused male voice said from behind me. “I’m getting my own room if I have to rent it at the local motel off the interstate.”
We all turned to find Jensen standing there looking amused, tired, and dirty.
He was wearing camo fatigues, had a large duffle over his shoulder, and was looking like he was about to go fuck some people up instead of being home for good.
“Holy shit!” I took two large, bounding steps in my best friend’s direction, and then tackled him with a bear hug.
Jensen laughed as he slapped me on the back. “You also forgot about Colt.”
Colt rolled his eyes, as he always did.
The quietest of the bunch, Colt did a lot of his ‘talking’ nonverbally. It was only when conversing was a must that words ended up coming out of his mouth—and usually that was only when things were dire.