Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(27)

“Four miles—just for fun.”

They both yelled the next lines: “Come on—let’s go. We can go—through the snow. We can run—to the sun.”

Then he started the countdown. “S-N.”

She chimed in with, “I-P.”

He yelled, “E-R.”

And they both yelled, “Can you be—like me? Sniper, yes, sir.”

By then they’d both found their pace, and their feet hit the ground at the same time on every step. It was exhilarating running outside again, pushing herself until she only thought about making the end of the line, but she wasn’t expecting to find a damn rope hanging in a tree when she got there. Finn grabbed it and, using the knots for handholds, hauled his body up to the high limb of the cottonwood tree then, using the same rope, rappelled down the backside.

When his combat boots hit the ground, she jumped and grabbed the first knot, made her way up it, and did the same thing he did. He ran in place until she was ready. “Ready for the return trip?”

“I thought this was a loop.”

“It is. This is the turnaround on the loop.” He took off and she kept up.

“That’s more than five miles,” she said.

“Eight, actually. We did this much in training before breakfast,” he reminded her. “One mile,” he called out the beginning of the cadence.

“You’re full of shit,” she yelled.

“Two miles,” he said.

“You’re a slave driver.”

“Three miles.”

“You are going to hell for this.”

He chuckled without even losing his breath. “Callie is a wuss.”

“Callie is an S-P-O-T-T-E-R.”

He stepped up the pace a notch, but neither snowflakes in her eyes nor sleet collecting on her jacket were going to let her fall behind. They hit the bunkhouse porch at the same time, and he held the door for her. Once inside, he tossed a bottle of water at her. She caught it in the air, twisted off the lid, and downed half of it before coming up for air. He pulled his jacket off, drank the whole bottle of water, and fell down on a floor mat.

She hated sit-ups every bit as bad as push-ups, but with her competitive spirit, she wasn’t losing to Finn the very first day of workouts. She did the same one hundred that he did then flipped over on her stomach and did a hundred push-ups. When he popped up and headed for the weights, she was right behind him.

“You want to spot or go first?” he asked.

“I’ll go first,” she said. If she stopped even for a few minutes, she’d collapse. The only thing that kept her going was the idea of a long soaking bath in that big tub back at the house.

She did ten reps and then traded places with Finn. “We going to shoot after this, or is that after dinner?”

“I thought we’d wait until it’s snowing harder to make it more fun.” He grinned. “Did you bring a ghillie suit? We could play real war.”

“Hell no! I don’t care if I never see one of those things again,” she said. “But rest assured, darlin’, I can outshoot you even in blinding snow. All you had to do was pull the trigger. I had to do the work.”

“But you’ve been practicing inside and I’ve kept up my skills in the weather.” He finished his reps and sat up on the end of the bench.

She threw him a towel, and he wiped sweat from his face. He combed his wet dark hair back with his fingers and looked up at her. “So what’s for dinner, darlin’?”

She slapped him with her towel. “Apple pie after that shitty comment.”

“Joe wants apple pie.” The bird pranced from one end of his rod to the other. Angel sat on the back of the sofa, watching his every move.

“I’m going to fry that foulmouthed fowl if he doesn’t learn to shut up,” Callie said.

“You are a wicked woman, but your kisses are straight from heaven. They’re hot as hellfire, but nothing that passionate could come from anywhere but the courts of heaven.”

“You are full of shit, Finn, but I like that pickup line real well. We’re having a light dinner and a big supper on school nights. I don’t think Martin eats enough in the school cafeteria, and he refuses to take his lunch with him.”

“I’m not bitchin’. If you weren’t here, honey, I’d be eating soup out of cans and bologna sandwiches,” he answered.

“Don’t call me by that bitch’s name. You can call me anything but that.”

He jumped up, squared his shoulders, and stood at stiff attention, then saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I bet I can beat you to the house.”

“Not in your wildest dreams.” She grabbed her jacket and was gone before he could bend over and pick his up from the floor. She barely slowed down enough to open the door when she reached the porch. She rushed inside and headed straight for the bathroom. He was only two steps behind her, but she turned on the hot water and didn’t know whether he collapsed on the sofa or went straight for the shower in his end of the house.

“Kidney bean soup for dinner,” she mumbled as she left her clothing on the floor and slid into the steaming hot bath. “Fried chicken and biscuits for supper. There’s plenty of chocolate cake left over from yesterday and store-bought cookies in the jar for after-school snacks.”