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“It’s not a big deal. My sister is really great, and, well, my parents’ place is a little rundown at the moment. I told her she could stay here. I didn’t know her friend was coming until last night. I figured they could just crash in the loft right? Maybe even help out around here a little?”
“Right,” I deadpan. He can’t be serious. “Just how long are we talking here?”
“Her friend is just here for the weekend. But I’m going to try and get Blythe to stay longer. Maybe until after Christmas at least,” he admits.
“You want your sister to live in the bunkhouse for a month?”
“Well. Yeah,” he laughs. “Seems a little crazy now that I’ve said it out loud.”
I hate the idea. But I’d bet cash money she’ll be packing her bags once she’s slept here for more than a few nights. I doubt she’ll enjoy being woken up at 5 AM when we’re all putting our boots on and heading out the door.
I don’t have more time to think about it or talk to Warren though, because gravel crunches outside to announce a car’s arrival.
Tripp pokes his head out from around the corner. He’s got a bottle of beer in his hand and his hat on backward. “Who’s here?”
“Buckle bunnies,” Heston grumbles as he makes his way down the hall toward the living room. Black felt cowboy hat and all.
“They’re not buckle bunnies,” Warren corrects him.
Tripp lets out a whistle as Heston walks by him. “I’ll be damned! Hesty’s coming out tonight boys!”
Heston’s boots track loudly on the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the fridge for a beer. He pulls one out and holds the top against the edge of the counter, smashes it down with his fist to pop the top off, and takes a long swig.
“Hell yeah,” Warren clinks his bottle against Heston’s and then chugs what’s left. “This is going to be great. Gage, you got the first round at the bar right?”
“Not going,” I say, turning back to my computer.
As usual, Heston completely ignores the peanut gallery and plops down on a bar stool at the island.
The front door swings open and a girl with jet-black raven hair storms in. Her bright red lips tip up in a grin.
“We made it!” She skips over to Warren and gives him a big kiss on the cheek. They look nothing alike and I have to assume this isn’t his sister. He smiles and hugs her back in a friendly way.
Then a new set of softer footsteps sound in the doorway and I turn to look.
Now this is definitely Blythe Farrow. I’d know that dark blonde hair and golden tan skin anywhere. The same as her brother’s.
“Hey,” the voice I recognize from the phone call earlier says. Her hand raises just barely above her waistline in a small wave.
She’s quite a bit shorter than the first girl that walked in, and not quite as cheery. Warren walks over to her and lifts her into his arms.
“You’re. Choking. Me,” she grunts.
“You won’t regret this sis,” he says as he puts her back down on the ground. He holds her at arm’s length like he’s checking to see if she’s injured or something. “I’m so glad you’re alright and that you’re here.”
Was she hurt? She looks fine to me.
In more ways than one.
“You look like you’re about to go out,” she speculates.
She smiles and deep dimples appear in each of her cheeks. They’re cute as hell.
“Likewe’reabout to go out,” he replies, rubbing his hands together with a devilish grin.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” her friend suggests.
“Oh hush Keanna. I told you. There’s nothing wrong with me. I thought you wanted me to have some fun?”
