Page 17 of When the Sun Rises
“Up early for your first real day? Trying to win some points with the boss?” Granger teased, coming over to Jackson to cuff his shoulder.
“No one warned me Weston snores like a son of a bitch.” Jackson huffed, turning his nose up at Granger’s affection like a miffed puppy.
“Weston snores,” Dillon said matter-of-factly around a sip of his coffee, eyes closed like he was waiting for the invigorating brew to finally kick start his brain.
“Little too late,” Jackson grumbled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think y’all were hazing me, putting me in that room unprepared.”
Granger threw his head back in laughter just as Elliot and Lane made their way into the kitchen. “Don’t be like that. How’s this? If you do a real good job today, I’ll convince Tuck to take you into town to get some ear plugs later.”
He sent me a wink, and I rolled my eyes, because Jackson would be hard pressed to not do a “good job” when he was still technically training. As it was, though, I was already considering our day. Just to make sure there’d be time to head into town before it got too late.
CHAPTER TEN
TUCKER
Breakfast most mornings at the Juniper Grove farmhouse were almost always nearly silent aside from the clinks of utensils on plates and the sips of coffee as everyone acclimated to being awake. Even when you were used to waking before the sun was up, it didn’t make the weariness that lingered behind your eyes any easier.
Especially when you worked as hard as we did day in and day out, the exhaustion you felt when you hit your pillow at night never was truly quenched by the brief respite of sleep my men were afforded. It was why I never faulted them for being a bit groggy or grumpy at the breakfast table.
Even Granger was normally more preoccupied with shoveling food into his mouth than to talk—though that was more likely conditioned learning than a lack of energy on his part. He had been wrangled into submission over the years with enough pointed glares over our eggs and bacon to know talking came after the dishes were in the sink. Raleigh had once told me that Granger had always been this way—even as a kid. Full of life from the moment his eyes were openand ready to take on his day. Like every hour counted, and he couldn’t waste any of it being idle in bed when he could be out in the world.
Raleigh had been an early riser too, but like most others at our operation, he’d been reliant on a strong cup of coffee to get his brain going properly. But it’d never been hard to coax him into five more minutes wrapped up around each other under the covers on those slow mornings. It was one of the things I loved about him—he always took time for the smaller moments, even if it meant a scolding here or there. Like maybe he’d known somewhere deep down that his time on this Earth was limited, and he needed to spend every second he had with intention.
The sound of a throaty laugh to my right brought me back from warm skin and tangled limbs under thick quilts. Granger was currently recounting this ridiculous dream he’d had last night in agonizing detail to a nearly doubled-over Jackson. As he went to wipe away near tears from his eyes, I couldn’t help but think back to the bleary-eyed version of him I’d stumbled in on in the kitchen only an hour before. Did he just need time for his morning brew to kick in or had Granger finally found a kindred spirit?
He needed to make sure he was getting enough sleep either way because eventually the coffee wouldn’t be enough. I knew that better than anyone. At some point, the quick thinking that was so critical when working around thousand-pound animals would go out the window when you were sleep deprived. Truthfully, it was nothing short of a miracle that something horrible hadn’t already happened on my watch. But I was lucky.
My eyes tracked over to Granger again. Thing was, there were people in my corner that had my back through it all. People who would step in if it was obvious the lights were on, but no one was home. They looked out for me just as much as I looked out for them. But Jackson? Who did he have here to look out for him? It wasn’t that I didn’t think the other hands wouldn’t step in if necessary, but hewas new here. Those connections and understanding hadn’t been forged yet, and he needed someone who would be able to read the signs of fatigue that weren’t as obvious as discoloration under his gorgeous eyes.
Movement beside me snagged my attention, and I lifted my gaze to watch Jackson rise from his seat, plate in hand.
“I can’t tell if you’re still eating or just playing with it,” he teased, looking down on me with a smile that could have rivaled the rising sun. But it was too early for something so blinding.
I tore my eyes away from his radiant grin with a grunt, wholly expecting to glance around the table to find that Jackson had somehow inhaled his meal between laughs, only to realize it was nearly empty.
“When you’ve finished farting around with your food, I’ll be in the kitchen getting another cup of coffee. Let me know when you’re ready to get this day started,” he called over his shoulder, and I gaped at his back until he passed through the door.
At the head of the table, my father let out a loud huff of laughter. “He’s going to keep you on your toes, that one.”
“Probably in the worst way.” I sniffed, lazily stabbing at my eggs.
“Don’t keep him waiting,” he responded, rising to deliver his own plate to the kitchen.
I mumbled an affirmative, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. A heat lingered beside me, somehow soaking the very air around Raleigh’s chair. It felt blazing, though I wondered if that was because I’d grown accustomed to the chilled atmosphere that now lived there since its occupant was no longer here. For a moment, I closed my eyes, pretending the warmth came from a wide shouldered, curly haired cowboy with bright blue eyes. But all I saw was a dazzling sunrise in the form of a smile and that damn dimple.
When I opened them, I stared at the ceiling. I should be unsettled. And maybe I was, but it wasn’t for the right thing. The thought of someone sitting in Raleigh’s seat before had been like walking overbroken glass with bare feet; the shards burned as they pierced tender flesh, and it was hard to remove them when they sank in too deep. Each step was painful and only forced the pieces in further, so I chose to stand still.
But Jackson was forcing me to move forward. I’d expected the ache and burn, because it was inevitable, but something else fluttered in my chest; like the sensation you get when you hang out over a high cliff. You know you could fall, but your own grip on the railing prevented you from plummeting down, and that was exhilarating. The thing was, I knew I’d pick the ache every time because it was where Raleigh was.
Over the next few days, I put Jackson through his paces, testing out his critical thinking skills and reflexes to make sure he would be ready to be alone on the property. He was a quick learner, and I saw early on why he’d been given his nickname because he never needed to be asked to complete a task. Jackson was always looking for something to do, and he would jump in to help wherever he could. Plus his instincts around the horses were top notch. He was blending in perfectly with everyone else on the farm, but he and Weston really seemed to have hit it off, despite how badly the redhead snored.
I’d taken Jackson into town that first day after we finished turning out some of the broodmares and their companions to pasture that afternoon. He’d picked up some ear plugs from the local drugstore, and I’d overheard him telling Granger the next morning that they had helped block out most of Weston snores.
“I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually,” Jackson had said around abite of breakfast casserole. “And if not, I’m sure I’ll get too tired to care. Either way, I’ll get some sleep.”
Granger had made eye contact with me. Both of us knew big mistakes could be made long before the body shut down in need of sleep—costly mistakes. Deadly mistakes. I gave a subtle nod, indicating I’d be keeping an eye on him during his week of training. If he started to decline, we’d have to figure something out with his sleeping arrangements.
So far, though, the only thing I’d noticed this past week was how underdressed Jackson was for the cold weather. I couldn’t remember if the farm he’d previously been at was in a warmer part of the state, but the jacket he’d been wearing since his first day was doing jack-all to keep out the biting cold, and I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to be having my new hand getting sick from hypothermia while I sat around with my thumb up my ass.
