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through the nose for a new one—forget about the price for a new engine block; he’d park the darned truck and go back to riding his horse everywhere rather than pay for a new engine.
    He’d have to ask Tyler or Dylan to help him drop off the car tonight. It would be really late, but at least he’d more than fulfilled his promise to the ladies… well, one of his promises. He called Sullivan’s Diner and left a message for Danielle that her car was good to go and that he’d drop it off later.
    Life was funny; today was the first time Sullivan had spoken to a Garahan in fifteen years and all because Jesse had stopped to do a good deed. Maybe Sullivan would give him a clean slate. Yeah, he thought… not happening . Chuckling to himself, he got out, opened the gate, and drove on through. Putting the truck in park, he let his mind drift while he got out to shut the gate.
    When the ranch house came into view, he just had to stop and stare. Emily and Ronnie must have been at it again. Flowers spilled out of planters at the foot of the front steps and there were planters sitting on top of the porch railing.
    He shook his head. “Man… what is it with women and flowers? Couldn’t they plant trees instead? We could use the shade over by the barn where the old Red Oak died.”
    No one was around when he pulled up out back, so he didn’t bother going inside. Once he’d saddled up, he rode out to the southern pasture to catch up to his brothers.
    â€œâ€™Bout time you showed up, Bro,” Dylan called out. “We needed you about an hour ago.”
    â€œSorry, had to rescue a damsel in distress on my way into town.”
    When he didn’t say anymore, his brothers gradually made their way over to where Jesse was checking the herd. With a brother on each side of him, he felt hemmed in. Familiar with the tactic, he pulled back on the reins, but his brothers had anticipated the move and boxed him in.
    Tyler grinned at him. “Is she a redhead?”
    Dylan shook his head. “Bet she’s got long dark hair, like my bride.”
    Jesse wanted to hang on to the irritation building inside of him, fan the flames until he could work up to a serious mad, but the way his brothers started arguing over which hair color was the sexiest had him chuckling.
    â€œYou’re both whipped and don’t even know it.”
    â€œNo way,” Tyler disagreed.
    â€œWho’s whipped?” Dylan demanded.
    Jesse just shook his head and his smile widened. “The two of you. Hell, no sense trying to pretty it up when the proof is staring you in the face. Those two women—really fine women I might add—have the both of you wrapped up so tight around their fingers it’s a wonder either of you can breathe.”
    Tyler’s face turned an interesting shade of red while Dylan’s jaw clenched. Now we’re getting somewhere , Jesse thought. Both brothers ready to take a swing at me. Hell yeah! I’m ready to rumble.
    But before he could tense up, preparing to fight back, Tyler and Dylan did something completely out of character for either of them—they shrugged and eased away from Jesse. Damn.
    Mumbling to himself, he urged his mount over toward the group of steer on the next rise—just part of the job, ensuring that their herd was in prime health. Every once in a while, one of their animals would show signs of lameness and they’d have to do a careful inspection of the animal’s hooves, checking for the cause of the injury. Most often it was caused by a rock, a bit of wood, or a thorn. Removing the object and cleaning and trimming the hoof before using antiseptic was the rule of thumb on the Circle G. They didn’t prescribe to the notion of additives in their herd’s feed, so their only other choice was to call the vet—that was expensive and used for rare instances where there really was something that the brothers couldn’t