Chapter 1
2215 Words
CHAPTER ONE
RILEY
72 HOURS EARLIER
“Rise ’n’ shine, motherfucker.” Cold water to my face accompanies Diesel’s loud voice, making me jump out of bed with fists swinging. Considering I’m barely awake, I miss, and he starts laughing.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I see the faint hint of the sun shining through my curtains, then rush toward him as he walks toward the door.
“The f**k?” I push his back, forcing him forward into the hallway. “Gonna kick your ass for that.”
“Yeah, right.” Diesel chuckles, knowing damn well he has sixty pounds and five inches on me. He didn’t get his nickname for being small. Built like a f*****g house and loud as a diesel truck, he’s had that nickname since middle school. “Besides the fact that you couldn’t, you wouldn’t hurt the birthday boy.”
I snort, following him into the kitchen. “Your birthday was yesterday.”
“But we’re celebrating this weekend!” he shouts, and he’s way too damn excited. “So technically, it’s my birthday till we get our drunken asses back here on Sunday. Till then, it’s fuckin’ party time!”
“We still have a workday to get through,” I remind him while pouring a mug of coffee. At least he managed to start a pot before waking me up by dumping water on my face. We’ve been roommates since he graduated from high school three years ago. Our house is on the Circle B Ranch that my family owns, and most of the Bishops live and work here in some capacity too. Diesel’s originally a townie, meaning his family isn’t in the business, and though he had no real experience, he applied to be a ranch hand like me. For some reason, my dad hired his ass, and we’ve gotten into more trouble than ever. Having been raised on the ranch, I live and breathe this lifestyle and don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Just like the generations of Bishops before me, I was born for this.
“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 s**t, 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.
“Pfft,” he huffs in response. “He can have that two-timing witch.”
I smirk, knowing he doesn’t mean it. He liked her a lot, and they’d been on and off for six months before Fisher strolled into town. She was hoping for some kind of commitment from Diesel, and he stupidly didn’t offer it to her.
“We’re going to Vegas. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to find a rebound,” I remind him, taking off and driving us toward the chicken coops. Once we’re there, we collect the eggs, throw out feed, and place fresh hay on the ground and in the nesting boxes. Typically, one of my younger cousins would do this grunt work, but with less than a month of school left, they’re all staying up late to study for final exams. I think it’s just an excuse for them to get out of their morning chores. However, my sister, Rowan, who’s three years younger, is coming home next week from the University of Houston, where she’s finishing up her second year of undergrad studies in finance. When she comes home, she’ll be able to help with some ranch chores, but she’ll probably spend most of her time working at the family bar.
“I’ve had rebounds,” he states proudly. “But it always comes back to bite me in the ass. There aren't enough options in this small town. And well, you keep telling me your sister is off-limits so…” He flashes a s**t-eating smirk, purposely pushing my buttons.
“And I’ll tell you again…” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. Rowan turns twenty soon, and I know she’s not innocent, but she’s my baby sister, and I don’t want Diesel’s lips or hands anywhere near her. He’s got a reputation when it comes to breaking hearts, and I don’t need to kick my best friend’s ass for hurting her because I will.
Once we’re done dealing with the chickens, we drive to the B&B and deliver the eggs. It’s a tradition to sit and eat before heading back out, but with our shortened day, we just grab a quick bite and refill our coffee. Before we make it out the door, my mom enters wearing scrubs, and she smiles at me.
“Hey, honey!”
“Hey, Ma. We’re just heading out so we can get done early today.” I wrap an arm around her, towering over her petite frame. She’s been a nurse for over twenty-five years and commutes to the hospital in San Angelo, where my uncle Evan and his wife, Emily, work as doctors. “You leaving for work soon, or did you just come off the night shift?”
“I’ll be heading in soon. Em and I are carpooling, but I wanted to say goodbye before you two kids left.” She squeezes Diesel’s cheek, which he hates but smiles through the pain. She’s referred to him as her “bonus son” for as long as we’ve been best friends.
“We’ll be back before ya know it, Ma,” I reassure her, so she releases her hold on me.
“You better behave yourselves. I mean it.” She jabs her finger in my shoulder.
“Yeah, Riley,” Diesel goads, stuffing his hands in his front pockets and leaning back on his heels.
“I was mostly referring to you,” Ma says pointedly.
“Me?” He brings a hand to his chest. “I’m an angel,” he protests.
My mother snorts. “Please. I married a cowboy. I know all about you…angels.”
“I’m sure Dad was a complete Southern gentleman when you first met in Florida.” I waggle my brows at her, knowing that’ll make her blush and hopefully get us off the hook from hearing her “behavior” speech.
“Who was a Southern gentleman?” Grandma Bishop walks in, immediately pulling me in for a hug.
“Dad was when he first met Ma,” I respond. “She’s worried about us going to Vegas,” I explain.
“I raised all my boys to be gentlemen, so he better have been!” she responds, then leans in and lowers her voice. “Though your mother showed up a few months later to announce she was expecting you, so perhaps he was too much of a gentleman if you get my drift…”
“Grandma!” I laugh.
“Oh my God.” My mom groans. “Just do as I say and not as I do, okay?”
I grin. “You got it. No making you a grandma just yet.” I flash her a wink, and her eyes go wide.
“I’m too young! And so are you!” She glowers at me, keeping her lips in a firm don’t push me expression. My mom is sweet as candy, but when she means business, you don’t mess with her.
“Promise, Ma. Plus, I’m gonna be rooming with this drunk. There won’t be any inappropriate fornicating happening,” I tell her.
“Don’t use me as an excuse. What he meant to say is he’ll have whiskey di—”
I jab my elbow hard into his ribs before he can finish his sentence. “Dude, my grandma is here.”
“My apologies, Grandma Bishop. I should be more formal.” He flashes a s**t-eating grin at me before he continues, “Whiskey penis.”
“And we’re leaving now…” I roughly grab the back of his shirt and push his stupid ass toward the door.
“Bye!” He turns around and waves before I can open the door and shove him out.
“You’re an asshole,” I say as soon as we’re on the porch.
“Your family loves me,” he mocks, stumbling down the stairs.
Rolling my eyes, I follow him to the side-by-side so we can finish our s**t and leave on time.
By two, we’re packed and on the road, heading toward the airport. “Vegas bound!” Diesel shouts out the passenger side window, slamming his hand against the door.
“Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna have to watch you like a hawk this weekend?” I shake my head.
“Pfft. As long as neither of us comes back with an STD or a future baby mama, we’ll be fine! Isn’t the whole point of this birthday trip to celebrate and get f****d up?” he counters in a snarky tone, making me want to smack his you-know-I’m-right grin off his face.
“As long as we come back in one piece.” I shrug. “But I’m still not babysitting your ass.”
“Deal!” He holds up his fist and bumps it with mine, but I’m still not convinced.
This might be the trip of a lifetime, or it might change everything—either are possible with two rowdy cowboys going to Vegas for the first time.
- Writer
