Read Online Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella by Lorelei James - Free Book Online
Authors: Lorelei James
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front porch.
Immediately after I climbed out of my rig, a dog tore out of the barn, snapping and snarling as it barreled toward me.
Cres bounded down the steps, yelling, “Banjo, knock it off.”
By the time the Australian shepherd skidded to a stop by head-butting my knees, he’d lowered his hackles and was wagging his tail. I crouched down to pet him. “Banjo, huh? Bud, I’m afraid your bark is worse than your bite.”
Banjo yipped and tried to lick my face.
I grinned and let him. I missed having a dog.
“Banjo, go lay down,” Cres commanded.
The dog circled me one more time before he trotted up the porch steps and out of sight.
I stood and propped my hands on my hips. Let him take the first stab at conversation.
He said, “Let me guess. You were just in the neighborhood.”
“It’s a hard place to find without GPS.”
“It’s an even harder place to find when my name, address, and phone number are unlisted.”
“Sutton asked me to return your pneumatic drill. Blame him for breaching your privacy. But he refused to give me your cell phone number, so it’s kind of a wash.” I paused. “Then again, he did tell me about Mick. So you might want to chew his ass about that.”
His posture stiffened. “What’d he say about him?”
“More than you did, that’s for damn sure. So I’m here because I wanna hear it from you, Cres. I’ll even tell you where I want you to start. Back to our conversation last night when I asked what you’d been up to and all you said was ranching with Wyn.”
Cres turned and focused on a spot beyond the horizon, giving me his profile. The muscle in his jaw bunched and I could almost hear him grinding his teeth together.
Seemed like an hour passed, but when I glanced at my watch, it’d only been five minutes. Still, that was a long time to exist in silence.
You don’t need this. Sure, you like Cres. Maybe you’ve always liked him a little too much. But right now, he’s a former hookup. That’s all he sees you as. Take the hint and move on.
Cres remained in the “stare at nothing” state when I took the drill out of the back of my truck and carried it to the porch.
I paused behind him and said, “Take care.” I’d almost made it to the sanctity of my truck when Cres spoke.
“I loved Mick. We were inseparable almost from the moment we met. He died just over two years ago when a car slipped off its jack and crushed him.”
An ugly death. Accidents left survivors with too many “what if” scenarios and guilt the accident could’ve been prevented. I ached for him.
“When you told me that you lost everything after you were outed on the circuit, my first thought was…you don’t really know what it’s like to lose everything.”
The anger in his tone? Not a surprise. The derision? Unnecessary and unfair. I faced him. “Death trumps everything. Got it. Sorry that I burdened you with my insignificant life problems. Don’t worry. You’re still the champ in the ‘shittiest life event’ contest that I didn’t realize we were playing.” I stepped closer to the driver’s side door. “Sorry for your loss, Cres.”
“Don’t go.”
I paused with my boot on the running board.
“I know I sound like a dick. But I didn’t get to finish that train of thought before you jumped in,” Cres said testily.
“I’m listening.”
“For a year and a half, I believed I’d lost everything when Mick died. It’s just been in the past few months that I could face the truth. I gave up everything as a result of Mick’s death. He’s the only thing I lost. But I can’t go back and I’ve been fucking petrified to try to go forward. I haven’t talked to anyone about it.”
That admission smoothed the rough edges of my anger.
“Seein’ you last night…was the first time I felt like movin’ on.” Cres jammed his hand through his hair. “Trauma, grief, whatever is not a competition. I’m sorry if it sounded like I one-upped you.”
“Why didn’t you
Immediately after I climbed out of my rig, a dog tore out of the barn, snapping and snarling as it barreled toward me.
Cres bounded down the steps, yelling, “Banjo, knock it off.”
By the time the Australian shepherd skidded to a stop by head-butting my knees, he’d lowered his hackles and was wagging his tail. I crouched down to pet him. “Banjo, huh? Bud, I’m afraid your bark is worse than your bite.”
Banjo yipped and tried to lick my face.
I grinned and let him. I missed having a dog.
“Banjo, go lay down,” Cres commanded.
The dog circled me one more time before he trotted up the porch steps and out of sight.
I stood and propped my hands on my hips. Let him take the first stab at conversation.
He said, “Let me guess. You were just in the neighborhood.”
“It’s a hard place to find without GPS.”
“It’s an even harder place to find when my name, address, and phone number are unlisted.”
“Sutton asked me to return your pneumatic drill. Blame him for breaching your privacy. But he refused to give me your cell phone number, so it’s kind of a wash.” I paused. “Then again, he did tell me about Mick. So you might want to chew his ass about that.”
His posture stiffened. “What’d he say about him?”
“More than you did, that’s for damn sure. So I’m here because I wanna hear it from you, Cres. I’ll even tell you where I want you to start. Back to our conversation last night when I asked what you’d been up to and all you said was ranching with Wyn.”
Cres turned and focused on a spot beyond the horizon, giving me his profile. The muscle in his jaw bunched and I could almost hear him grinding his teeth together.
Seemed like an hour passed, but when I glanced at my watch, it’d only been five minutes. Still, that was a long time to exist in silence.
You don’t need this. Sure, you like Cres. Maybe you’ve always liked him a little too much. But right now, he’s a former hookup. That’s all he sees you as. Take the hint and move on.
Cres remained in the “stare at nothing” state when I took the drill out of the back of my truck and carried it to the porch.
I paused behind him and said, “Take care.” I’d almost made it to the sanctity of my truck when Cres spoke.
“I loved Mick. We were inseparable almost from the moment we met. He died just over two years ago when a car slipped off its jack and crushed him.”
An ugly death. Accidents left survivors with too many “what if” scenarios and guilt the accident could’ve been prevented. I ached for him.
“When you told me that you lost everything after you were outed on the circuit, my first thought was…you don’t really know what it’s like to lose everything.”
The anger in his tone? Not a surprise. The derision? Unnecessary and unfair. I faced him. “Death trumps everything. Got it. Sorry that I burdened you with my insignificant life problems. Don’t worry. You’re still the champ in the ‘shittiest life event’ contest that I didn’t realize we were playing.” I stepped closer to the driver’s side door. “Sorry for your loss, Cres.”
“Don’t go.”
I paused with my boot on the running board.
“I know I sound like a dick. But I didn’t get to finish that train of thought before you jumped in,” Cres said testily.
“I’m listening.”
“For a year and a half, I believed I’d lost everything when Mick died. It’s just been in the past few months that I could face the truth. I gave up everything as a result of Mick’s death. He’s the only thing I lost. But I can’t go back and I’ve been fucking petrified to try to go forward. I haven’t talked to anyone about it.”
That admission smoothed the rough edges of my anger.
“Seein’ you last night…was the first time I felt like movin’ on.” Cres jammed his hand through his hair. “Trauma, grief, whatever is not a competition. I’m sorry if it sounded like I one-upped you.”
“Why didn’t you
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