Bishop Brothers Series: Four Book Complete Set

Chapter 1-3

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, I’m going to be takin’ a life today.” He directs his eyes toward Dylan. “Maybe two.”

The rest of the afternoon passes by quickly. As I drive us back to the main house, my shoulders tighten from driving poles into the ground and dumping cement nonstop for hours. Dylan and I are exhausted, but we’ll be working on that damn fence for the rest of the week. Quite honestly, I’m still salty that I have to work on it in the first place, and it’s all because of Jackson.

A few months ago, he threw a huge party, which quickly got out of hand when he started driving around in his Jeep. He’d been drinking and being more of a dumbass than usual when he decided to go off-roading and lost control, slamming straight into the barbwire fence. The next day, we spent the whole damn morning rounding up the cattle that escaped. Jackson was the only one amused by the whole situation, said it was the best one-eighty turn he’d ever done in his mud-covered Jeep.

Dumbass. Although according to Mama’s gossip, he got plastered because of a girl. I highly doubted it because Jackson Bishop didn’t do serious relationships—or relationships at all—but then she mentioned Kiera’s name. It all made sense once I heard that, and I forgave him just a little.

Kiera Young and Jackson have known each other since they were babies. Her parents and ours were friends, and we’ve spent a lot of time on their ranch just as much as she has on ours. She was like an older, annoying sister to me, but not to Jackson. He’s always had a thing for her but never grew the balls to admit it or even tell her. We all know she feels the same, but she continues to date other guys, pissing Jackson off and causing him to drink and act a damn fool. They’re both too stubborn and continue this vicious cycle of denying their feelings.

After months of planning, Dad decided to replace the barbwire fence along the county road. If someone crashed into it again, only their vehicle would get damaged, and we wouldn’t risk losing our cattle again.

Dylan’s excitement brings me back to our conversation. “I’ve never been to Key West before, so as soon as I won, I did some browsing online. If it’s half as fun as it looks, I might never come back! The nightlife, the beaches, the views,” he rambles on. “You’re gonna thank me that I dragged your ass along.” Dylan beams as we head back to the main house.

“I haven’t agreed to go yet,” I remind him. “Depends if we can get off work or not. Might need to smooth talk Dad a little first,” I say, knowing that if we don’t get ahead of schedule, we’ll never get approval to both take off for two weeks. “Or maybe a lot. Duties have to be done rain or shine, and if I’m not there, that means someone else has to do it.”

“I’m gonna go buy him a bottle of Crown Royal Reserve.” Dylan chuckles.

“To butter him up or get him wasted?” I laugh.

“Both,” Dylan tells me.

I park the truck in the driveway and see Mama unloading groceries from the back of her car. Dylan and I rush out to help her.

“Mama, you shoulda called me,” I scold. “I would’ve come sooner.” I reach into the trunk, trying to grab as many bags as possible. Dylan stands next to me, doing the same, so we don’t have to make a second trip.

“I knew you were busy. It’s no big deal,” she says sweetly, walking ahead of us to hold the front door open.

As soon as I enter, I see Jackson sleeping on the couch with his boots on, snoring loudly. After I set the bags down on the kitchen table, I walk quietly into the living room, and Dylan follows behind silently.

I get real close to his face, watching his chest rise and fall and wait for just the right moment before yelling, “FIRE!”

His body jolts up, his feet kicking in the air. With beet red cheeks, his eyes gaze over the living room. “What the f**k, Alex?” he barks, scrubbing his hands over his face.

In no time, Mama comes storming from the kitchen with a wooden spoon in one hand and glares down at Jackson.

“I’ve got a bar of soap with your name on it if you keep using that language in my house, young man,” she scolds, fearlessly.

I cross my arms over my chest and smirk.

“Mama,” he begins, but she’s quick to shut him up.

“Hush. Get your boots off the furniture, too.” She walks away before Jackson can argue some more.

“Wakey, wakey, asshole,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

As soon as Mama is out of sight, he brushes his fingers through his hair, trying to process what just happened. “You bastard,” he mutters to me. “You nearly made me s**t myself.”

I scoff. “Good. That’s payback for me having to work on replacing that damn fence today. You should be out there fixing your own damn mess,” I tell him.

“Oh sure, then you can be the one to train the horses and do all the guided tours for the guests at the B&B.”

I grimace at the mention of the Circle B Bed and Breakfast that he helps manage on the ranch.

“That’s what I thought,” Jackson mocks. “Be glad you were building fences, little brother.” He says the words with venom laced in his tone. I know Jackson loves working on the ranch, but there’s working with horses, and then there’s working with people. In Jackson’s case, he’s better off working with the horses.