Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,21
didn’t have time to argue right now.
“Okay. I’ll see what Ron says.”
Brent rolled his eyes. That asshole she was married to was going to say he didn’t have time to yank out half the backyard for kids that were too damn dumb to stay out of poison ivy.
“Sure, hon. Okay, I have to go.” He hated when someone’s incompetence made his life harder, but shit rolled downhill.
Hal was standing at the kitchen door, waiting.
“Bye, Brent. I’m sorry.”
“Nah. No worries. Bye.” He looked at Hal after he hung up, knowing that the muscle in his jaw was ticking. “Did you get breakfast? There’s muffins and biscuits and gravy.”
“I did. Can you marry him?”
“Why, Bald Harold, are you pimping me out for food?” Brent teased, but his cheeks flushed hot at the altogether weird and kinda hot idea. Sometimes it was weird as fuck, being the gay cowboy.
“Hell, yes. Two of the boys are out working the calves. You want Wiley and Jesus in here moving shit when they get in?”
“I do. Where’s Curly?”
“Feeding the dogs and showing Trace around the outbuildings. Trace has got the kids playing follow-the-leader with him and Daisy strapped to his chest in some sort of…contraption.”
“I saw that part when he was cleaning up the kitchen.” Brent had actually used a harness like that with Daisy on a horse a few times, but there was no way he’d let the guys see it and get ideas.
“He’s good with those babies, isn’t he? Like genuinely good with them.” Hal looked a little befuddled, honestly.
“He is. I like him already.” That was true enough. Trace was good with the guys as well. Curly’s blueberry muffins had appeared with not a whisper this morning, along with said biscuits and gravy, and more cornbread for Bald Harold. The man was a minor miracle.
“So you gonna put them in Granny’s old rooms?” It made him grin, how Granny was his great-grandmother. Gran was Miz Johnson, and Momma had been Miss Rose.
“Yeah. I figure they have a close bathroom that way, and two rooms they can kinda live in when they don’t want to be with us, you know?” Trace hadn’t complained a bit at the idea of the stairs over the garage, but man he’d been relieved not to have to do them with that little girl. Brent got it, and he was glad they could find another way.
Lord knew, if he banished Susannah and Trace upstairs, his Caro and Jakob would be climbing up there all the time to find them. This way all the kids were on the same level, in the same house.
“Boss?” Jesus stuck his head in the kitchen. “The new guy said there was food? Brit didn’t have time to make breakfast…”
“Biscuits and sausage gravy. Come on in. Grab a plate.”
“Thanks, boss.” Jesus came in, grinning ear to ear. “You found someone for kids and chickens, huh? Bueno.”
“I hope so.” Brent nodded at the microwave. “There’s a huge plate of biscuits in there, and the gravy is still on the back of the stove.”
“I’ll take some muffins and cornbread to the others, huh?” Hal winked. “I’ll only eat a few.”
“Yep. You’re with me today, Jesus. You and Wiley. We’re gonna move a bunch of shit to storage and set up a bedroom in Granny’s old space.”
“You got it.” Jesus fixed his plate and chowed down, groaning low. “Dios, boss. Keep him.”
“That’s what I said,” Harold grinned hugely. “Leave some for Wiley.”
“He’s got three minutes before he’s late,” Jesus deadpanned.
“I’m not late!” Wiley slid in. “Curly said there were biscuits?”
Brent lived in a fucking rodeo.
He shook his head, and Jesus showed Wiley all the food. While they wolfed it down, he started planning the migration. Some of the boxes needed to stay in the house, so he would move them to the weird little room off the back porch, where Gran had done her sewing. The rest could go to the garage.
“Is he making lunch too?”
“There’s leftover brisket for sandwiches and potato salad and coleslaw.”
Hooligans. Trace wasn’t here to be camp cook.
“Oh man. It’s a good day.” Wiley licked gravy off his moustache. “So what are we moving?”
“Gran’s boxes. The extra dresser in her old sewing room. The bed from up above the garage. We’re setting Trace and his girl up down here, and they each need a room, and he needs a sitting area in his too.” Trace could do some of the nicer touches himself, and Brent would give him a budget for lamps and bedding