Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
She locks eyes on me and I swallow hard. “What about them?”
“I heard they live around here.”
“You heard right.”
“Can you tell me about them?”
“I don’t know,” she says as she gets to the bottom of her mug. “My throat is kinda parched. Might be hard to talk.”
I wave over the bartender again and get Lorraine another two beers. After a few more sips, her tongue gets nice and loose and she starts answering all of my questions.
“Who are they?”
She leans in close and starts whispering. “They rented the Crawford Ranch on the west side of town. Four of them in total. Three of them are brothers. Jacob is the oldest, Easton is the middle, and Cameron is the youngest. All smoking hot by the way.”
“What about the fourth?”
“That’s Roman. He’s the cousin. Apparently, their fathers were twins. He looks just as much like a brother as the other ones do.”
“Hmm,” I say as I try to remember every detail. I don’t think she’s going to be as forthcoming if I pull out a pen and paper to start writing down everything she says.
“And what do you know about them?”
“You mean if they’re single?” She huffs out a breath. “Yeah, they’re single, but you know their type… Only interested in that special girl who will knock the manure off their boots.”
Their type? What the hell is she talking about? Uh oh. I think I might have gotten her drunk…
“I was excited when I heard that four hot bachelors moved in, but no luck for ole Lorraine. I was hoping to see that starstruck look staring at me when one of them looked my way, but I might as well have been a plant for all the excitement there was in their eyes. They just paid for their food and left the grocery store.”
Yup. Definitely drunk.
“What about Dylan Burton?” I ask, feeling my pulse start to race as I drop the name. I stare at her face looking for any signs that she knows the notorious man—eyes widening, a jerk of the head, a sharp intake of breath, anything.
She just stares back at me. “Dylan, you said? No. Is he single?”
“I’m not sure… What about Operation Storming? Hear anything about that?”
“Who got an operation?” she asks as she starts to slur her words. “I had an operation last year to remove an ingrown toenail. It was disgusting. Want to see the scar?”
“No!” I shout a little too loud as she reaches for her cowboy boot. “I’m fine, really.”
She shrugs as she gets back to working on the third beer I bought her. She’s about five sips from being too drunk to give me any more reliable information. It’s time to wrap this up.
“So, the Dixon boys are on the west side of town, you said. Where exactly can I find them?”
“You can find them right there,” she says as she leans back in her stool and points to a table of three huge men by the empty fireplace. “Except for Cameron. Don’t know where he is.”
My heart starts pounding as I look at the men. I came all the way from New York looking for these guys. They could be the reason my story gets the cover of the magazine or be the reason why I have to tell my editor that it’s not going to work out.
I can’t afford to do that again. I’m on my last career leg with this story. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be handing my resume to Lorraine to work at the grocery store with her.
“Those are the Dixon boys?” I say in a breathless tone as I stare at them in wonder. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as cows love opera.”
“What? I don’t know what that means.”
“Nobody does,” she says with another sip. “But that sure as shit is them.”
I call the hulking bartender over and order four more beers. One for Lorraine and three for the guys in front of the fireplace.
My arm is burning as I pick up the three heavy mugs and slide off the barstool.
I have it all pictured in my head… I’m going to strut over there in my sexy new cowboy boots and hold up the beers as I get to the table.
I’ll say, ‘hellooo boys,’ in a long southern drawl. They’ll look up at the hot new girl in awe and kick out a chair. I’ll place the beers on the table and slide a mug in front of each man as they gawk over my cleavage. Then, I’ll sit down, cross my legs all confidently, and they’ll tell me everything I need to know.
“Good luck,” Lorraine says with a grin.
“I don’t need luck,” I say as I hold my shoulders back and start walking. “I’m a professional.”
Oh shit, these are heavy.
My arm starts to shake before I’m a third of the way there and these damn boots keep making my ankles wobble.