Read Online Betting on Grace by Nicole Edwards - Free Book Online Page B

only one person to
blame for that and … tag, she was it.
    “Did you sleep well?” Jerry asked, again his tone far
more lively than she expected.
    “Perfectly,” she lied. “You?”
    “Never better.”
    Okay, something was really off. Maybe she was still
dreaming.
    “Ouch,” she muttered when she pinched her forearm just
to make sure. Nope, not dreaming.
    “Did Gracie assign you to a guest this week?” her
father asked, his voice coming from behind her as she filled one of the
nondescript white mugs with coffee.
    “Yep,” she told him. “Gracie had it in for me this
week. She put me with a group of women coming here for a ‘cowgirl’ retreat,”
Mercy explained, lifting her hands in the air and crooking her fingers to
signal the quotes.
    Those were her favorite.
    Cowgirls.
    Riiiight.
    If she had to guess, there would be at least three,
possibly up to five; all of them were going to want to hang out by the pool in
their skimpy little bikinis and wait for the wranglers to pass by. ’ Cause
that’s what cowgirls do . Which they would do. Every day throughout their
stay. Then, when Mercy tried to convince them to go horseback riding, or
something equally cowgirl-ish , they’d squeal and giggle and agree only
if one of the men taught them what they were supposed to do.
    Oh, joy, something to look forward to.
    “They won’t be here until Thursday, though,” Mercy
tacked on as she stirred sugar and cream into her mug.
    “What’ll you do till then?” Jerry questioned.
    Mercy raised one eyebrow and glared at him over her
shoulder. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have anything to do around here?”
    A huge smirk replaced the stern expression on Jerry
Lambert’s face. Her father loved to give her a hard time about not doing
anything around the ranch. She, along with her four sisters, spent their days
from sunup to sundown working, usually seven days a week. For Mercy, working at
the ranch wasn’t a job. It was a way of life, and she loved it.
    “Nope. Not me,” he answered, sipping his coffee and
staring back at her over the rim of his cup.
    “What about you? Did she stick you with someone this
week?” Mercy asked.
    Her father usually wasn’t assigned to a guest, but for
whatever reason, he had been getting more and more involved in the physical
activities in recent weeks. In fact, Mercy was pretty sure he’d had a lobotomy
because his entire demeanor had changed over the course of the last few months.
    “Nope, but I offered to head up a couple of the trail
rides.”
    “You sure your old butt can handle bein’ in a saddle
all day?” Mercy teased as she made her way to a small table, sliding a chair
out with her foot before sliding into it.
    “Girlie, I can still outride you any day of the week.”
    Mercy laughed, leaning her chair back on two legs. She
was the fastest rider on the ranch, and with her horse, Shadow Mist, they were
an unbeatable team. “Right. Believe that if you want to, Pops. If you ever want
me to prove you wrong, just name the time and place. I’m ready.”
    Jerry snickered, placing his coffee cup on the table
and relaxing in his chair, his work-roughened hands resting on his trim, flat
stomach. Mercy didn’t squirm as her father seemingly studied her. This was a
recurring conversation, the two of them ribbing one another about who was
faster. There was a time when her father had held that title at Dead Heat
Ranch, but not since Mercy had been a teenager.
    “You’re on,” Jerry finally said, his smile
transforming his face from average to handsome instantly.
    Mercy dropped her chair back to the floor with a
resounding thud. “Shi— Er … crap,” Mercy squealed when her coffee sloshed over
the edge of her cup and onto her hand. Shaking her hand to knock off the
liquid, Mercy stared at her father. “Are you serious?” she asked, unable to
hold back her excitement. For years, she’d tried to goad her father into racing
her. Not many people at the ranch would because