Boots Up (Port Ranch Book #1)

Chapter 8

MITCH

I am definitely not getting any more used to being at 4:30 in the morning, but Granger gets super pissy if I’m not in the barn ready to go at 5 on the dot, so every day, seven days a week, I crawl my ass out of bed before the sun is even thinking about showing its face and head to the barn. It’s so fucking cold in the mornings. I’m surprised my balls haven’t permanently fallen off at this point.

Last week I finally traded in just regular work boots for cowboy boots. When I was in town at the feed shop, I started talking to one of the workers about my feet aching and before I knew it I was walking it with perfectly sized boots and heavy socks to go along with them. I refuse to admit they are the superior footwear while working. Granger would never let me live it down.

I was fumbling with the coffee maker once again, while Granger was sitting at his desk grumbling away. I had no idea what time he got in here. It wouldn’t surprise me if he just slept here. “Why don’t you make the coffee when you’re here before me in the morning, Granger?”

“Because I know you’ll make it when you come in, Pro Bowl,” he grunts without even looking up.

“You aren’t dropping that name anytime soon, are you?”

“Probably not. You ready to head out?” Straight to the point, just like always.

“Not yet, I need a thermos of coffee first.”

“I don’t have all day,” he grunted.

I shrugged and went back to watching the coffee pot fill up, “Well I mean, you kind of do. This is literally what you do all day.”

“He giving you trouble, Granger?” Brian slaps my shoulder as he enters the office. He’s also been up for who the fuck knows how long. 

“Not at all, sir. Just talks a lot.”

At least Granger wasn’t throwing me under the bus today. I’ve been doing my best to keep up with him and the other ranch hands, but to say I was out of my element was an understatement. Sure, I’d done some intense weight-lifting workouts and could flip a fucking tire if needed, but ranch work wasn’t like a gym workout. On a typical day, I’d be up around six in the morning to hit the gym, but that wasn’t even on my radar anymore. I wouldn’t dare tell my personal trainer that I was cutting muscle better working here than any of his workouts.

“What do you have planned for today?” Brian asked Granger.

Granger stood and grabbed his hat from the desk, “We’re going to ride the west fence line.”

Brian turned back to me, “You riding yet, son?”

“Uh, riding like a horse?”

“Yeah, this is a ranch you know?”

“I kind of figured that out, but no, I don’t know how to ride any horses yet.”

Brian slaps my shoulder again, “Guess what you’re learning next?”

“Why can’t I just four-wheel or ride the gator out there?” That’s what I’ve been doing so far. They even had a handful of trucks that were used frequently. I didn’t understand why horseback riding was so important to this guy.

“It’s quicker to be on horseback, Mitch. Don’t tell me that you’re scared to get on the back of one of these guys.”

“You’re right, Brian,” Granger goaded him on, “I think he might be scared. Maybe of heights?”