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“Thanks, man,” I tell him as I get out, and he gives me a head nod before spinning out, slinging mud all over us. I flip him off, hoping he’ll see me in the rearview mirror, though I doubt he cares.
“I kinda wish we would’ve walked now. I thought I was gonna die,” Dylan admits. I pat his shoulder and nod.
“Or next time we call John. He doesn’t have a death wish.”
Jackson and John may be twins, but they’re as opposite as they come. Aside from their identical looks, their personalities are what set them apart. Jackson lives every day as if he’s turning twenty-one for the first time while John is the more sensible and responsible one. Though if you asked anyone who knew the Bishop brothers, they’d say I was more like Jackson, whereas John and Evan were similar in personality traits.
Before walking inside, we remove our boots and dirty jackets and leave them on the porch. No need to set Mama off by wearing filthy clothes inside her immaculate house.
As soon as we walk in, I can hear Dad and Mama chatting in the kitchen. Smells of cornbread fill the house, and it makes me hungry.
“Hey, Mama,” I say, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek as soon as Dylan and I enter the kitchen. “Got the truck stuck again.”
“Son, why don’t you call it a day?” Mama asks.
“Because there’s work to be done,” I tell her politely with a smile.
Dad drinks a glass of milk, and when he finishes, he wipes his mouth and makes eye contact with me. “That’s enough for today, son. Not too much more can be done in this weather. Waste of my damn time, if you ask me. If it’s a mess outside tomorrow, then we’ll pick up on Wednesday.”
“Yes, sir.” I glance at Dylan, knowing we’re going to have time to do whatever we want after we feed the animals tomorrow morning.
“You boys be back here around six. Chili should be ready by then. It’s perfect for this cold weather.” Mama pats me on the back with a grin. “Tell your brothers, too.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be back.”
Just as we head out of the kitchen, Mama calls me back. “Will you bring these treats over to John before you head home? Tell them to set them out for the B&B guests since they’ll be stuck inside the next few days.”
Though it’s a little out of the way, I agree with a smile knowing I’m not on anyone else’s schedule today. Instead of getting my truck dirty, I grab the keys to the old Jeep parked in the barn beside the house. It’s not the fanciest vehicle on the ranch, but it’s better than the work truck we drive around, and it has 4-wheel drive, so no chance of getting stuck again.
“I’m not heading home in this bullshit. Hopefully, a few hours from now it’ll let up,” Dylan says after we put on our boots and run to the Jeep. We try not to get any wetter but fail miserably. We drive slowly to the bed and breakfast, and when we finally get there, I see the parking lot is full of vehicles.
After I park on the side of the building, I grab the sack of treats, and we bolt to the side door. Guests fill every empty chair available while others huddle around the fireplace though it feels like it’s a hundred degrees inside. Glancing around, I spot John who’s standing behind the counter reading a hunting magazine.
“Mama told me to deliver these to you. She made them for the guests and all that.”
“Again?” John asks, grabbing the bag and peeking inside.
“You know how she gets. When she’s bored, she bakes. By the weight of it, probably a hundred cookies in there.”
“Well, she sure knows how to butter ’em up,” John says, walking behind the bar and looking for something to put them in.
“Butter them up or fatten them up? I’m not sure which one anymore,” I say with a laugh. John nods in agreement as he places the cookies in a basket and sets it on top of the counter.
“So what y’all doing today in this lovely weather?” A tinge of sarcasm hits John’s tone as he glances outside the bay windows.
“Day drinking,” Dylan responds with a smirk.
“Hell no. We can’t be showing up for dinner completely wasted. Mama will murder us.” I shake my head at Dylan, and all he does is nod. I narrow my eyes at him. “Seriously, no.”
“We’ll see,” he teases.
Guests spot the cookies, and they take them by the handfuls. Everyone is all smiles, and I wonder if Mama made special cookies by how happy they are eating them.
“I’m going home, I guess. Oh, Mama’s making chili. Be there at six. Let Jackson know too,” I tell John. He gives me a nod before Dylan and I head out. We ride in silence across the property. Once we get to my house, we run inside and kick off our boots.
