Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I glare at him. “It’s called effort. You should try it sometime.”
He chuckles, reaching around me to grab a mug from the cabinet. His proximity sends a shiver down my spine, and I hate the way my body reacts to him—like it’s forgotten he’s an infuriating, grumpy know-it-all.
“Effort’s great, but edible’s better,” he teases, pouring himself coffee.
I grit my teeth, flipping another pancake. It lands slightly crooked in the pan but doesn’t immediately burn, so I count it as a win.
“Why are you even in here?” I ask, desperate to shift the attention off my kitchen failures.
“Just checking to see if the house is still standing.” His tone is light, but his gaze lingers, studying me. “You’re determined. I’ll give you that.”
Before I can respond, the sound of a truck engine cuts through the air. Cal glances out the window. “That’ll be the guys.”
“The guys?”
“You’ll see.”
The "guys" turn out to be Cal’s closest friends—Ridge, Zane, Slate, Grady, Fox, and Liam. They spill into the house like a tidal wave of testosterone, their laughter and teasing filling the space. Duke weaves between their legs, tail wagging like he’s just hit the jackpot.
“You must be the famous mail-order bride,” Ridge says, flashing a charming grin as he holds out a hand. “I’m Ridge.”
I shake his hand, ignoring Cal’s grumble behind me. “Layla. Nice to meet you.”
“So, what do you think of Cal so far?” Ridge asks, winking. “Grumpiest cowboy in Devil’s Peak, right?”
“Grumpiest? That’s being generous,” I quip, earning a round of laughter from the group.
Cal glares at me, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. Amusement? Maybe even pride? It’s hard to tell with him.
By early afternoon the men have settled in for a game of poker. I linger at the edge of the room, unsure if I should stay or retreat. Zane notices and pats the chair beside him. “Come on, Layla. Sit in. You can’t be worse than Slate over here.”
“Hey!” Slate protests, throwing a chip at Zane.
I laugh, taking the seat. “I’ve never played poker.”
“Perfect,” Zane says. “You’ll fit right in.”
The game starts, and I quickly realize that poker is less about the cards and more about the banter. The men are relentless, teasing each other over every bet, and I can’t help but get caught up in the energy.
“Raise,” I say, pushing a stack of chips forward.
“You sure about that, princess?” Cal’s voice cuts through the noise, low and challenging.
I glance at him, meeting his steady gaze. “Positive.”
He smirks. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?”
He leans forward, his presence commanding. “You’ve got tells, Layla.”
“Do I?” My heart pounds, the intensity between us crackling like a live wire.
“You blink too much when you’re nervous,” he says, his voice dropping. “And you’re chewing your lip.”
I stop mid-chew, heat rising to my cheeks. “Maybe I’m just distracting you.”
The men erupt into laughter, Ridge slapping the table. “She’s got you there, Cal.”
Cal shakes his head, chuckling. “We’ll see.”
When the hand ends, I win—more out of beginner’s luck than skill—but the look on Cal’s face is worth it. His eyes narrow, a mix of frustration and admiration. I grin, basking in the rare victory.
Later that evening, the group moves outside to a campfire. The stars are bright overhead, the air cool but not cold. I sit on a log, sipping a beer that Zane handed me earlier, while the men exchange stories about their ranching days and military adventures.
Cal stays mostly quiet, his gaze flicking to me every so often. It’s not until the conversation turns to the topic of mail-order brides that he speaks up.
“You know,” Ridge says, smirking at Cal. “I think you got the best deal, Cal. Layla here’s got spunk.”
“She’s got something, all right,” Cal mutters, taking a swig of his beer.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t strain yourself with the compliments.”
The men laugh, and Ridge adds, “Don’t let him fool you, Layla. Cal’s a softie underneath all that gruff.”
“Is that right?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at Cal.
He glares at Ridge. “You planning on shutting up anytime soon?”
“Not a chance.”
The banter continues, but I can’t help noticing the way Cal watches me, his expression softer than before. Maybe Ridge is onto something.
As the fire crackles and the night deepens, I realize something unexpected—I feel at home here, surrounded by these people and their warmth. It’s not what I expected when I showed up at Cal’s ranch, but maybe, just maybe, it’s exactly what I needed.
Chapter Four
Cal
The barn is quiet except for the soft shuffle of hooves and the occasional huff of breath from the mustang in the stall. I crouch, steadying the horse’s leg with one hand while the other fumbles with the bandage. The gash isn’t deep, but the animal is skittish, flinching at every movement. I mutter under my breath, a low string of curses that don’t do a damn thing to calm either of us.