Reece (Stud Ranch 4)

“Is there something waiting for you?” he pressed, not letting the point go. “Someone?”

I let out a long exhale, then answered honestly. “No.”

“You don’t even have a bag. Do you have any money? Forgive me for asking. I know I’m being a jackass. But you show up here, you help out so much last night and I— Look, there were people who helped Jer and me when we were down and out and had no place to go and what kind of man am I if I don’t try to pay that forward?”

I made a helpless noise and tossed my hands out. “That’s not how the world actually works. People don’t just…” I tossed my hands outwards. “Help strangers. I don’t know what your angle is, but I’m just trying to get a new start. I left a bad situation and I want a new start.”

Reece nodded vigorously, eyes wide. He took a step back and held his hands up. “That’s fine. Look, I get it. I probably wouldn’t believe me either ’cause I’ve known my share of users and takers. Just a few days is all I’m saying. Get a few more good meals in you. A few more good nights’ rest. Then Ruth can drive you into Austin like she said.”

I frowned at him.

“You can help out around here, if that makes you feel better. You cooked this morning. You’re earning your keep. It’s not charity. God knows we can use all the help we can get. The bunkhouse is a goddamned disaster. If you wanted to do some cleaning in there, it’d be a godsend.”

I blinked. Okay, well… Well, maybe that was different. “I guess if I was working for it…”

He immediately brightened. “I can give you a list of chores.”

I laughed, still skeptical.

“Look, plus you’re helping my karma here.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t believe in karma.”

He looked offended. “Are you kidding? My fourth foster family was all hard-core hippies. I still meditate and everything.”

“A meditating cowboy?” I smiled, charmed in spite of myself.

“If you hang out for even a few days, you’ll see that ranch work is monotonous. Cowboys and Zen monks have more in common than people think, I bet. Long days with no one around, doing the same thing over and over, connecting to the land and living things around you. It’s a trip, I’m telling ya.”

“Huh,” I said, not sure what the hell to make of Reece Walker. “Okay, well, um, I’ll think about it. But I might as well put myself to good use while Ruth sleeps. So I’ll go clean up the kitchen then I can start on the bunkhouse. Where’s it at?”

Reece grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “Epic. Here, I’ll show you since that’s where I’m headed next.”

And he talked my ear off the whole way about his Buddhist hippie foster family and all the things he’d learned from them, like we’d been best friends for years and not strangers who’d met the night before.

How was it that two days ago I’d felt all alone in the world and now I had enough people in my life to fill a breakfast table?

7

Doing hard work that day felt good. The bunk house was in a disastrous state. A deep clean was the least of its worries, as Reece and I soon discovered when I joined him after cleaning up breakfast.

I entered the building he’d pointed out and was immediately hit by the smell.

“Oh, dear Lord,” I said and Reece grimaced.

“I know,” he said, looking around. The building was a doublewide trailer that had been set up on the property, but it was pretty trashed inside.

“You slept here last night?” I asked him, feeling even worse, especially since I’d slept in the wrong room and he might as well have had his own bed last night.

He smirked and waved a hand. “Oh, this is nothing compared to some of the places I’ve spent the night. Plus, I found a cot that was pretty clean.” He pointed to a cot he’d set up near the kitchen. There was a suitcase underneath it and more piled up beside, a reminder that he and his brother were as new here as I was.

I looked around the place, then back at him. He’d slept in worse? Then I remembered—he’d said he and his brother had lived on the streets. What kind of life had this man had? What kinds of things had he seen?

“Still, it would be good to do a deep clean so we can even start to see where the problems are,” he said, finally frowning as he looked around.

There was just so much stuff, like whoever had last lived here had left in a hurry and almost willingly trashed the place on the way out. Either that or they’d just lived in this pigsty. There were beer bottles and stray clothing all over the floor. The kitchen had cups with molded over contents still in them.