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1
Gray
“Six thousand acres,” I muttered, staring out the window at the first slivers of sunlight painting the horizon. “Six thousand problems.”
I wasn’t one for hitting snooze, but something about today had me doing it. By the time I’d kicked the old quilt off me—the one my gran had sewn her first winter here in Whittier Falls—it was six o’clock, a half hour past my usual wake-up time. Fuck.
I rose from the bed and ran my hand over my face, as if wiping off the sleep, and walked closer to the window. An orange ribbon of sunlight shone on the roof of the main stables and the grass on the front pasture was damn near sparkling with dew. I never allowed myself time to notice stuff like that and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me today. But the truth was, I could use more moments of just . . . noticing. Appreciating. ‘Cause God knew, I had enough moments of the hard shit.
The ranch had been in my blood since before I could walk, but owning it? I never truly understood how hard my dad had worked until now. Not the physical labor, though that was intense. But the mental load. I’d been stressed about every damn inch of this land ever since I took over and I didn’t see that changing any time soon. Mason would say I needed to ease up, let others shoulder the load. But this was my land, my legacy.
“Gray!”
Speaking of . . .
“You plan on moping at your window all day, or we got horses to tend to?” Mason's voice cut through the morning stillness, rousing me from my thoughts. I looked down and saw him give me the finger.
We grew up together and this ranch was almost as much his as it was my family’s. Mason’s dad was one of the finest wranglers Red Downs had ever seen and Mason took after him. No one had ever seen riding like the Bridges men did it. But Mason wanted more for himself, so he went to school down in Bozeman to get his business degree. Which was why I made him ranch manager as soon as I could. The man knew his numbers and the crazy thing was, he liked it.
“Come on you lazy shit,” he hollered again, laughing at himself in the process. Mason knew I was often up and working before anyone else, so this was just him giving me hell. We both knew he wanted to go over some of the accounts today, which was why I'd been dawdling. Not that I’d admit it to him.
“Keep your shirt on, Mason,” I called back, already pulling on jeans that had seen better days. “I'll be there in five.”
“Make it two!” he shot back, and I could picture his wry smile, even without seeing it.
Slipping into my boots, I stopped in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, already brewed thanks to Mason's trespassing, I’m sure. I shoved my hat onto my head and strode out to meet the day, the familiar scents of hay and leather wrapping around me like a rough embrace. Mason was waiting, arms crossed, leaning against the fence with that look that said he knew I'd been brooding.
“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted me, his gray eyes glinting with humor.
“Cut the crap,” I grumbled, though the corner of my mouth twitched upward despite my mood.
“You know I’m playin’. You up late with Bella again?”
I nodded with a grunt. “She’s close.”
“Could’ve called me.”
I shrugged. “You got enough to worry about.” It was true, though Mason would never admit it. “How is Abby anyway? Haven’t seen her around all summer.”
Mason smiled wide. “That’s ‘cause I got her enrolled at the day camp downtown. Gets to go swimmin’ and make crafts and play soccer. She’s livin’ the dream,” he said with a laugh.
“Sounds like it. Still growing like a weed?”
“Oh yeah, you won’t recognize her next time you see her. Grew two inches since Easter.”
“Shit. How’d time go by so fast?”
“I ask myself that every damn day.”
I thought about the burden Mason carried, raising his baby girl all on his own. Sure, he had help from his parents now that they were retired. But it wasn’t the same as having a partner. And my heart broke for little Abigail, never knowing her mama. We’d all rallied around him when she’d gone and left. Went down south to Mesa or somewhere, and never looked back.
Mason knew they were loved and cared for by this town. But it still couldn’t be easy. And it made me all the more determined to stop complaining about my responsibilities. I didn’t know much about raising a little girl all on my own, but I sure as hell knew it had to be harder than ranching. And Mason was doing both.
“I was gonna do some grilling this weekend,” Mason said, tapping my bicep with the back of his hand. “Why don’t you come by?”
I nodded my head, already wondering how I could get out of this. “Sure, that sounds good.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
