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“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, grabbing his to-go cup and taking a sip. “It’ll go by fast since we have to leave by two. Are you even packed yet?”
“Almost. Not really sure what to bring, though. All I own are Wranglers, and I’m pretty sure cowboy boots won’t be in style.” I chuckle, remembering the story my mom told me about when she first met my dad. He showed up in Key West looking like something out of the Wild West, and my mother hasn’t let him live it down ever since. Granted, I was conceived on that trip, which means the boots didn’t throw her off that badly. Maybe I’ll take them after all. Perhaps they’ll be good luck.
“What’s wrong with Corrals?” he asks, tapping the heel of his boot against the floor. “They go with my hat. My Stetson is a total chick magnet.”
I snort and shake my head, grabbing my coffee as I walk back to my room to get ready for the day. Once I’m dressed and caffeinated, Diesel and I head to my truck. The sprawling ranch covers thousands of acres, so we still have to drive a good ten minutes to get to the workshop where we start and end each day.
By the time we arrive, my cousin Fisher is already there. His real name is Anderson, but we’ve called him by his last name since he was in junior high.
We always meet in the office to prioritize what needs to be done or fixed and make a game plan. The fridge is always stocked with drinks, and it’s become a hangout for us between tasks or when it’s hot as hell outside.
My dad manages the ranch’s day-to-day routines and organizes most of the schedules. Uncle John has run the Circle B Ranch Bed & Breakfast since before I was born, but ever since he and my uncle Evan bought a run-down bar in town ten years ago, he’s juggled both. After his oldest daughter, Maize, graduated high school three years ago, she’s been helping out more and learning how to manage the B&B so John doesn’t have to do it all on his own.
“’Bout time,” Fisher smarts off the minute we walk into the shop. He grew up in California but has spent every summer here since he was a teenager. His mom, Courtney, is my dad’s only sister. I was excited when she and my uncle Drew agreed to let Fisher help out on the ranch. He’s an ass, but he works hard, which is helpful.
He gives me a pointed look. “I was about to call and chew your asses out.”
“And I would’ve told you to kiss my white ass, Fisher,” Diesel snaps, walking toward him. “We’re thirty seconds late.”
I chuckle because it’s the same song and dance every morning. Fisher has a brother and sister back in Cali, and the three of them are triplets. When my aunt and uncle had been unsuccessful in getting pregnant, they tried IVF, then found out they were having three babies instead of just one. Fisher pretends he’s years older and in charge, but Diesel relentlessly puts him in his place. We work year-round, and even though Fisher graduated from college last year, he hasn’t found a permanent job yet, so he still helps during the summer. Grandma Bishop has told him he’s hired to work on the ranch year-round, but he hasn’t agreed to it. I think Diesel would lose his shit, though.
“The pig fence needs to be fixed today. After the storm a couple of nights ago, I noticed it got bent to hell and back. Think you two can manage getting it done?”
“Your fancy business degree doesn’t make you my boss,” Diesel reminds him. Opening the fridge, he grabs two bottles of water, then tosses one to me.
“Yeah, we’ll go check it out after we feed the chickens,” I answer before Fisher can respond. “We have to be done by one thirty, though, to get on the road by two.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re bailing this weekend.” He grunts.
“Fuckin’ right. Bye!” Diesel walks toward the door that leads to the equipment barn with his arm extended, flipping the bird. They haven’t gotten along since Fisher stole his girlfriend Gretchen three years ago. Though they weren’t “official,” Fisher swept her off her feet. They’ve been together ever since, and she even moved to Sacramento to be with him and comes back to visit her family when Fisher works during the summers. It’s been tense, and I’m constantly playing referee.
“Radio if you need anything else,” I tell him before following Diesel out and shutting the door.
“I know he’s your cousin and all, but I hate his city boy I’m better than you attitude,” he says, jumping into the passenger seat of the side-by-side.
Taking the driver’s side, I crank the engine and give him a moment to calm down. “You hate him because he’s with Gretchen. Otherwise, he’s not that bad,” I tell him with a shrug, not wanting to take sides. What Fisher did wasn’t cool, but Diesel wasn’t exactly offering exclusivity either.
