The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,122

come to no conclusions or solutions yet.

“It means something,” Mister pressed, and he was never one to let anything go. That was why he couldn’t just let Libby walk out of his life, despite her rejections. He’d gotten one kiss, a while ago, after he’d successfully sold an article she’d helped him edit to Modern Rodeo.

Since then, Mister hadn’t been able to let go of Libby, no matter what anyone said. No matter that she’d broken their dinner date and then refused to go out with him. She’d said she just wanted to be friends, and that rejection had almost killed Mister.

Judge had been rejected too, and it was never pleasant. “I just…I don’t want to hurt your feelings. It doesn’t really matter what I think.”

Mister nodded, his expression softening. “Will you tell me anyway?”

Judge paused, only the sound of the hot water running between them. “What if it upsets you?”

“I’m already upset,” Mister said. “What’s one more thing?”

He did seem to walk around in a perpetual bad mood lately. Maybe since New Year’s, when everything with Libby blew up.

“I think you missed out on learning some things when you were younger,” Judge said, trying to be delicate. He kept his voice low and his eyes trained on the mugs in the sink. Dark liquid spilled from them when he turned them over, and he rinsed them out. “Because you didn’t have to go live in the cowboy cabin for a year, and you never had to work the ranch like a regular cowboy.”

“I work the ranch just fine,” Mister said, his default always defensive.

“I didn’t say you didn’t work hard,” Judge said.

The door opened again, and Judge prayed it would be Ward. Preacher walked in, and that was ten times better than Ward. He was the perfect buffer between Judge and Mister, and he paused instantly. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“Nothing,” Judge said, reaching to turn off the water.

“Judge was just telling me how lazy I am.”

“That is not true,” Judge said. “At all.”

“What did you say?” Preacher asked, his eyes still zipping from brother to brother.

“I said he missed out on learning some lessons because he went straight into the rodeo. The rest of us had to go live in the cowboy cabins, draw the cowboy’s daily wage, and learn how other people live and work.” He glared at Mister. “That’s what you don’t get. Not everything goes your way all the time. I learned that while sharing a cabin with three other men and barely having enough money to pay for groceries.” He drew a deep breath. “Or waiting for the shower, only to find out there was no hot water left for me.”

“It was a tough time,” Preacher said, committing to entering the house. “What do you guys have to eat here? We haven’t been to the store in a while, and Charlie’s promised to bring you back whatever you want.” He smiled at Judge and hugged him quickly.

Judge hugged him back and watched as he stepped over to Mister too. Mister stood unyieldingly in his arms, his frown still pinned on Judge.

“There’s bagels and cream cheese,” Judge said, moving back to the table to get his coffee mug. He started rinsing that too.

“What other kinds of lessons?” Mister asked.

Judge sighed and looked up to the ceiling, wishing he could see all the way to heaven. He needed some help from On High right now, that was for sure.

“Patience, for one,” Judge said. “And for two, you have no idea how regular people live. What they have to deal with.”

“I’m a regular person,” Mister said.

“No,” Judge said with a laugh. “You’re not. We’re not. None of us up here are. You learn that in the cabins.”

Mister looked at Preacher, who set two halves of his bagel into the toaster. “What does he mean?”

“The fact that you don’t know is how I know you don’t get why Libby won’t go out with you.”

“Is this about Libby?” Preacher asked.

“It’s always about Libby,” Judge said, and a bit of sarcasm crept into his voice. He cleared his throat to tame it. He wasn’t going to poke fun at Mister for his crush on Liberty Bellamore. He wasn’t, because that was cruel, and not what brothers should do to one another.

“Mister,” Preacher said, turning toward him. “He’s right, bro. We’re not normal.”

“In what way?”

“In the billion-dollar way,” Preacher said. “In the way that if we want a new house, we just build it. We

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