Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Erin continued on her trek toward the new bunkhouse. Dylan had hired a few of Ford’s old construction crew to work on the ranch since, when it came to animals—both two- and four-legged—something always needed to be replaced or repaired.
But in this case, extra hands were needed to build a bunkhouse to house both permanent and seasonal employees. Basically, if there was bunk space available, any employee needing a roof over their head—assuming they didn’t mind living in communal housing—could grab a spot. The employee housing was also being expanded by building six cabins behind the new bunkhouse for staff in upper positions. Managers like Ford.
Of course, Ford opted out of taking one of the cabins since, like her, he owned his own home on the edge of town. Would it save him a monthly mortgage payment if he sold it and claimed one of the nicely sized cabins? Of course. But he wasn’t at the point of wanting to sell yet and said he’d consider it in the future.
Erin had also been offered a cabin and turned it down—for now—for the same reason as Ford. Too much was still up in the air. She was only newly employed by the ranch and their threesome was almost as new. If it went bad—the job or the relationship—she would need somewhere to go.
She adjusted her grip on the cooler and turned the corner of the almost completed building.
Hammering and drilling could be heard from inside the structure. Plus, all kinds of equipment and supplies were in stacks and piles around the exterior. She spotted a long ladder extended up to the pitched roof of the building.
Dylan designed it so the sleeping quarters were on the top floor and the main floor would consist of the shared bathrooms, kitchen and living space. When finished, the bunkhouse and the cabins wouldn’t be anything like the ones she’d stayed in during summers at Girl Scout camp.
She shuddered. The ranch employees would have flushing toilets instead of latrines, of course, as well as actual clean showers instead of gross stalls the girls shared with spiders and other creepy crawlies.
She also couldn’t forget the bats.
She shuddered again when her nostrils burned, remembering the pungent smell of lye sprinkled over a hill of human waste. It was still her least favorite memory.
Or so she thought.
She looked around for Ford but couldn’t find him. He stated he’d be working outside today since the weather was perfect, so she began to circle the exterior until she heard him call her name.
When she glanced upward, she spotted him perched on the slanted roof with a nail gun in hand.
No.
Her sight narrowed and suddenly blurred.
No.
Her pulse thumped in her ears and her lungs seized, making it impossible to draw a full breath.
No.
“Ford,” she forced out but not loud enough for him to hear.
No.
“Ford…” she tried again but failed.
Digging her fingernails into her palms, she tried to focus.
He was going to fall.
He needed to get down from there.
No!
“Ford!” He must have finally heard her since his blurry figure jerked into motion. He rose from where he’d been squatting and pointed a huge smile in her direction. “Hey, darlin’! I’ll be—”
“Ford!” That scream came from deep within her soul.
With a furrowed brow, he made his way to the roof’s edge and glanced down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Please, please, please.” Her whispered chant came out broken. “Come… down.”
He needed to get off the roof now.
“I’m fixing—” His dark eyes went wide for a second before he quickly put down the nail gun, moved to the ladder and began to descend. “I’m coming down.”
“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” With that, she fell to her knees and pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets to block out both the current vision and the past memory. She didn’t want to look until his two feet were planted firmly on the ground.
“You can’t what?” came a deep voice behind her. Dylan.
She tried to block out the sound of Ford’s boots making their way down the metal ladder, but it was impossible. She could hear them over her own pounding heartbeat.
Strong arms engulfed her, and Ford’s soothing whisper filled her ear. “It’s okay, darlin’. I’m safe and right here. Nothing bad happened. It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Jesus,” came from Dylan.
With her face buried in Ford’s hot, damp neck, she curled her fingers into his chest and clung to him.
He was alive and in one piece. He was talking and walking. He was fine.
He was fine.
“Breathe,” Ford encouraged as he rubbed her back. “Breathe.”
She pulled air in through her nostrils and blew it out of her mouth.
She did it again, making sure her exhale was twice as long as her inhale, a method used in meditation. Breathing exercises had helped her for years after losing Kyle tragically.
After one more deep breath, she managed to open her eyes. The haze had cleared, and she was no longer looking down a long, dark tunnel.