Read Online Slow Ride Home (The Grady Legacy) by Leah Braemel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leah Braemel
Ads: Link
The mental image of Bonnie and Tank in bed together wasn’t a picture she wanted burned into her brain.
“Oh, honey, no. He’s out back by the pool.” Bonnie lowered her voice. “Sometimes he don’t bother putting on trunks. The fool figures it’s private enough out here that no one’s gonna see him.”
There were no houses nearby, so there weren’t any neighbors who might be offended. Of course, not having neighbors would be no guarantee he wouldn’t be seen, as she could attest. Who knew who might be out in a field with a pair of high-strength binoculars? Of course if they were spying, seeing Tank naked would stop them for a good long while. She followed Bonnie through the house, her footsteps echoing off the gleaming hardwood floors.
Bonnie stopped in the kitchen—one with granite counters and an island with a breakfast nook at one end. The type Allie usually only saw in magazines. Obviously Bull’s Hollow paid their ranch hands far better than when her father had worked for them or—a sinking feeling plagued Allie’s gut—Logan was right and Tank, or Bonnie, had been skimming from the Gradys for a long time.
“I’m just fixin’ to make a pitcher of sweet tea.” Bonnie opened a cupboard and pulled out a carafe. “I remember how you loved having tea and cookies when you used to visit me. Now you can make yourself comfortable here or out in the front room if you like.” She raised her voice in another shout. “Tank. Get your butt in here. We’ve got company.”
“It’s not your sister again, is it?” Tank’s familiar gravelly voice called from outside.
“No, it ain’t my sister. It’s little Allie Daniels. Pete Daniel’s daughter.”
“Then why don’t you bring that girlie out here? You know how you’ll nag me if I drip water all over that danged new hardwood you insisted on putting down.”
“You got your clothes on?”
Allie bit the inner part of her lower lip in an effort to keep from laughing at the couple’s exchange.
“Of course I do, woman, what do you think I am?”
“An old fool, that’s what you are,” Bonnie muttered. “Skinny-dippin’ at your age. Could blind a person, he could.” She waved her hand toward the back door. “You go on out and say hi. I’ll bring the tea out in a few minutes.”
Allie stopped in the doorway. No ranch hand should have been making the money it must have cost to landscape the Panola’s backyard. From the water falling over the collection of limestone at the far end of the pool, to the intricate mosaic with a fountain, to the dual-level pool, the water from the higher level cascading into the larger bottom pool. Textured stonework ringed the pool and led in a path to a pergola covering a patio table where Tank sat.
Oh damn , her stomach clenched, what have you done , Tank? Tell me you and Bonnie haven’t been embezzling. Because unless they’d won a lottery—they hadn’t—there was no way they could afford this type of landscaping on their salaries.
To Allie’s relief, Tank had pulled on a pair of baggy trunks. Pity he hadn’t donned a shirt too. While she didn’t mind a little hair on a man’s chest, she wasn’t into the wet bearskin rug Tank was sporting, especially when the bearskin rug was grey and stretched across his back and over a paunch he hadn’t sported the last time she’d seen him. She guessed it was proof love was blind because otherwise she had no explanation for how Bonnie could standing touching such a fur ball. It could have been worse—he could have been wearing a Speedo.
“Hey, Mr. Panola. How are you doing?”
“Allie Daniels, as I live and breathe, it’s been a coon’s age since I saw you.” Tank climbed from his chair and lumbered to her. “Look at you, all grown up into such a purty woman. You’re a sight for sore eyes, I tell you. Come, sit a spell so we can catch up.”
“Thanks.” She took a seat by the patio table, glad for the umbrella’s cover in the hot sun. “How are
“Oh, honey, no. He’s out back by the pool.” Bonnie lowered her voice. “Sometimes he don’t bother putting on trunks. The fool figures it’s private enough out here that no one’s gonna see him.”
There were no houses nearby, so there weren’t any neighbors who might be offended. Of course, not having neighbors would be no guarantee he wouldn’t be seen, as she could attest. Who knew who might be out in a field with a pair of high-strength binoculars? Of course if they were spying, seeing Tank naked would stop them for a good long while. She followed Bonnie through the house, her footsteps echoing off the gleaming hardwood floors.
Bonnie stopped in the kitchen—one with granite counters and an island with a breakfast nook at one end. The type Allie usually only saw in magazines. Obviously Bull’s Hollow paid their ranch hands far better than when her father had worked for them or—a sinking feeling plagued Allie’s gut—Logan was right and Tank, or Bonnie, had been skimming from the Gradys for a long time.
“I’m just fixin’ to make a pitcher of sweet tea.” Bonnie opened a cupboard and pulled out a carafe. “I remember how you loved having tea and cookies when you used to visit me. Now you can make yourself comfortable here or out in the front room if you like.” She raised her voice in another shout. “Tank. Get your butt in here. We’ve got company.”
“It’s not your sister again, is it?” Tank’s familiar gravelly voice called from outside.
“No, it ain’t my sister. It’s little Allie Daniels. Pete Daniel’s daughter.”
“Then why don’t you bring that girlie out here? You know how you’ll nag me if I drip water all over that danged new hardwood you insisted on putting down.”
“You got your clothes on?”
Allie bit the inner part of her lower lip in an effort to keep from laughing at the couple’s exchange.
“Of course I do, woman, what do you think I am?”
“An old fool, that’s what you are,” Bonnie muttered. “Skinny-dippin’ at your age. Could blind a person, he could.” She waved her hand toward the back door. “You go on out and say hi. I’ll bring the tea out in a few minutes.”
Allie stopped in the doorway. No ranch hand should have been making the money it must have cost to landscape the Panola’s backyard. From the water falling over the collection of limestone at the far end of the pool, to the intricate mosaic with a fountain, to the dual-level pool, the water from the higher level cascading into the larger bottom pool. Textured stonework ringed the pool and led in a path to a pergola covering a patio table where Tank sat.
Oh damn , her stomach clenched, what have you done , Tank? Tell me you and Bonnie haven’t been embezzling. Because unless they’d won a lottery—they hadn’t—there was no way they could afford this type of landscaping on their salaries.
To Allie’s relief, Tank had pulled on a pair of baggy trunks. Pity he hadn’t donned a shirt too. While she didn’t mind a little hair on a man’s chest, she wasn’t into the wet bearskin rug Tank was sporting, especially when the bearskin rug was grey and stretched across his back and over a paunch he hadn’t sported the last time she’d seen him. She guessed it was proof love was blind because otherwise she had no explanation for how Bonnie could standing touching such a fur ball. It could have been worse—he could have been wearing a Speedo.
“Hey, Mr. Panola. How are you doing?”
“Allie Daniels, as I live and breathe, it’s been a coon’s age since I saw you.” Tank climbed from his chair and lumbered to her. “Look at you, all grown up into such a purty woman. You’re a sight for sore eyes, I tell you. Come, sit a spell so we can catch up.”
“Thanks.” She took a seat by the patio table, glad for the umbrella’s cover in the hot sun. “How are
Similar Books
