Part Time Cowboy (Copper Ridge Book 1) Page 5

  He paused, studying her far too intently for her liking. “How long did it take you to get that response down so perfectly?”

  Anger sparked through her. Because he had her number. “Are you saying my response seems rehearsed?”

  “Yes. Very. Why are you really here?”

  Oh, damn him. “Because. It was time. Because...I was tired of feeling like I was running away.”

  “From?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Things.”

  “Same things you got in that bag?”

  “Yep. Nuts, bolts and other assorted crap.”

  Toby chose that moment to come padding down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “You have a cat,” he said, “in the house.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Where else am I going to keep my cat?”

  “The barn.”

  “You don’t keep a friend in the barn. Well, maybe you keep your friends in the barn. That could be why you don’t have any friends.”

  “I have friends.”

  “I haven’t seen any.”

  “You’ve seen me at work and at home.”

  “And I’ve seen nary a friend. Are they in the barn now?” She made her eyes round and looked at him in mock horror.

  “None of my friends shed. And they don’t leave dead animals on your carpet.”

  “Neither does Toby. I don’t think he’d kill a mouse. He’s too civilized for that.”

  “A cat that won’t kill mice? That just sounds worthless to me.”

  She shot him a dirty look and scooped Toby up from his position by the table. “You can’t have it two ways. Either it’s bad for him to leave dead animals lying around, or it’s bad for him to not kill things.”

  “I like it when cats kill things. Outside.”

  “Then have your cats the way you want them. I’ll have mine the way I want him. And I will have matching molding. We’re just going to have to disagree on the fundamentals of life. Big surprise there, right?”

  “Good point.”

  “Well. Good. Glad we’ve come to that...conclusion.” She set Toby on the table. “So...now I need to get back to work.”

  “You honestly think you’re going to do all this alone?”

  “Yes. I am. I’m a hard worker and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

  “I thought you were a therapist.”

  “Was.”

  “Didn’t you listen to people for a living?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Listening is hard work, I’ll have you know. It’s why so few people do it. And anyway, I have the desire to finish all this work, and one thing you should know about me is that when I set out to do something, I get it done, okay?”

  “Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you get this done.”

  “Yeah, well, I look forward to you putting a shirt on,” she said.

  The words hung between them and she tried not to pull a face and reveal just how embarrassing they were to her. Because, damn it all, she was trying to pretend that she hadn’t noticed. And she was pretty sure she’d been managing to hide the whole I’m-helplessly-checking-you-out thing from him, too. Except now she’d gone and shown she was disturbed by it.

  Bah.

  He cocked his head to the side. “This bothers you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you say...?”

  “Because. Because this is a place of business.”

  “I thought you weren’t open.”

  “I’m not, but...still.”

  He leaned in and she caught his scent—sweat and skin. Man. And the want, the need, grabbed her around the throat and shook hard, unwilling to let her go. She should move. She should stop breathing him in.

  But she couldn’t think about what might come next. Because her brain was totally blank.

  All she could do was stare. At his lips. At the square cut of his jaw. It was dusted with stubble now, not clean like it had been yesterday. Yes, today he looked more out of order in every way, and she had to admit, it was interesting. Fascinating. Dangerous.

  Something crackled between them, and he seemed to feel it, too. Because his expression wasn’t granite like usual. There was heat there. Even fire. It flickered, quick and hot, in his dark eyes, and then it was gone.

  “I think I’ve imposed on you a little too long,” he said. “I have my own work to do.”

  “Right,” she said. “Go on, then.”

  “If you need anything...”

  “I’ll call Kate.”

  “Call Kate.” His words came at the same time hers did.

  “Right,” she said. “I’ll do that. I’m picking her up...soon, actually. So. Okay, then.”

  He ran his hand over his hair, and she felt a little zip of attraction hit her low as the motion highlighted his biceps. Yet again. There was something wrong with her. It must be all this fresh air.

  “I think we’ll be okay, Sadie,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment ago.

  “You...do?”

  “Just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. And try not to change too many things.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SADIE MILLER, IT TURNED OUT, was incapable of following orders. She’d done nothing but change things in the two days since she’d breezed onto the Garrett family ranch, and she showed no sign at all of stopping.

  First of all, she’d had a crew there reconditioning the wood, stripping paint. Then she’d followed behind, repainting trim. She was like a little blonde windup toy, and every time Eli drove on the road to Connor’s house or the main part of the ranch, he caught glimpses of her working outside the house. He could always resolve to hole up on his end of the property. The road to his own house ran the opposite direction, but that would mean no visiting with his family, and no ranch work. And he wasn’t that desperate to avoid her.

  Still, he didn’t want to catch glimpses of her. He didn’t want her there. And dammit, even he knew that verged on curmudgeonly. But he couldn’t be bothered to care. He had things happening in his life. Important things. And he didn’t need her wandering around the place like a breeze-blown hippie.

  Shit, he was uptight. But even so, he hated the feeling of an interloper on Garrett land, and yeah, dammit, he was totally a curmudgeon. There was no denying it. But it just felt...invasive.

  He didn’t like change. He didn’t like people crowding. It was a habit from childhood. They didn’t have friends over, well, friends other than Jack Monaghan, and they didn’t invite company in past the front porch. They didn’t let them see what was inside. They didn’t let anyone know the extent to which things had fallen apart.

  It was a habit that died hard. Or not at all.

  Eli pulled his car past the Catalog House, determined not to look again. Determined not to care. He’d promised Connor and Jack an evening of poker and beer and he planned to deliver. Connor would probably be happy as hell if they canceled, which was one reason he was determined not to.

  He parked in front of the porch and looked up at the house. When Jessie had lived there, it had looked nicer than it ever had in Eli’s memory. And everything had slipped since losing her.

  Connor’s muddy boots and other random castaways from a day’s work were spread out on the wooden deck, which was in bad need of staining. The windows, vast and prominent, were spotted with water drops and splattered with dirt. Even the door had dirty handprints. Like a very large child lived here. A man child who’d crawled down into a bottle of whiskey the day his wife had been put in the ground.

  A man who echoed their father a little too much. Not that Eli had a right to judge, considering that he’d never loved anyone. Not the way Connor had loved Jessie.

  He’d never lost like that as a result, either, and he planned to keep it that way.

  He got out of the car and noticed Jack’s F-150 was already parked in the muddy driveway—which badly needed to be graveled, Eli would handle that—and he walked up the steps, knocking his boots against
the top stair to get some of the mud off before pushing the front door open.

  He could hear Jack’s voice already—animated, loud, the same as he’d been since they were a bunch of skinny preteen boys. Jack was a year younger than Eli, but had always been close to both Connor and himself. If Eli had gotten in trouble as a kid, Jack was the reason. As much as Eli liked order, Jack liked disrupting it. Eli couldn’t help but foster a strange admiration for Jack’s total disregard for rules.

  He couldn’t partake, but he could admire. From a distance.

  “The police are here,” Eli said drily, walking through the entryway and into the dining room, where Connor and Jack were already seated, a stack of cards and poker chips in the middle of the table.

  “Sadly,” Jack said, “we haven’t had the chance to do anything illegal yet.”

  Connor just sat there looking long-suffering. It was painfully obvious they were trying to pull him out of the pit he was in, and as always, he was so damned aware of it that he’d dug his heels in and was clinging to rock bottom for all he was worth. Stubborn ass.

  “And now you won’t get a chance. Are we ready to play? And drink? Thankfully, I’m within walking distance so sobriety is not a necessity.”

  “Public drunkenness?” Jack asked.

  “Private property.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Liss is coming,” Connor said.

  “Then why isn’t she here?” Eli asked.

  “I invited her,” he ground out. “But she’s not off work yet.”

  “So now we have to wait, I take it?”

  “She’s bringing the good alcohol,” Connor said.

  “Well, in that case,” Jack said, relenting.

  “Where’s Kate?” Eli asked.

  “Home, I expect,” Connor told him.

  Kate lived in another house on the property. It was small, and designed for two people at most, but it was perfect for her.

  “Does she know Liss is coming? She might want to see her.” Liss was one of Connor’s best friends, and had been a very close friend of his and Jessie’s, both before and during their marriage. And Kate seemed starved for female companionship, as evidenced by her obvious desire to wrap Sadie Miller up in a blanket like a little stray kitten. But he was not having that. There would be no adopting of Sadie Miller.

  He grabbed a beer from the center of the table, out of the bucket of ice emblazoned with the Oregon Ducks O on the side, and popped the top off.

  “We don’t really need Katie hanging out and listening to us talk,” Jack said.

  “Don’t call her Katie,” Connor said. “She hates that.”

  “You call her that exclusively,” Eli reminded him.

  “Yeah. I’m her older brother. I can.” He jabbed a finger in Jack’s direction. “He can’t, though.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Connor. Isn’t it hard work being this unpleasant all the time?” Jack asked.

  “You’re still here,” Connor said. “The door is open. There are plenty of other men for you to play cards and drink with. Though they’ll never satisfy you the way I do.”

  Eli almost choked on his beer. “You have to warn people before you break out random acts of humor, Connor. It’s unexpected.”

  “I hate to be predictable.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “You also hate puppies, rainbows, and I’m pretty sure if compound bow season ever opened on unicorns you’d be first in line.”

  Eli heard the front door open, and the sound of feminine shoes on the hardwood floor. Which meant it wasn’t Kate, because she wore boots, just like the rest of them.

  “I’m here!”

  It was Liss. She breezed into the room, tugging her auburn hair from its bun and shaking her head. “Gah. Nightmare of a day. Going through financial records for...a place. Confidentiality, sorry.”

  “Yeah, I know something about that,” Eli said.

  “I’m sure you do. But accountant work doesn’t show up on a police scanner.” She set a brown bag on the table. “I come bearing Jack. Daniel’s, that is.”

  “Then you can sit down,” Connor said, already reaching for the bag.

  Liss frowned.

  “Stop it,” he said. “Don’t give me the sad eyes.” He looked around. “This isn’t an intervention, is it?”

  “Does it need to be?” Eli asked.

  “No. I’m fine. Let’s play cards.”

  “Strip poker,” Jack said. “Because Liss is here.”

  Liss looked him over, then looked at Connor and Eli. “I’d win that game, Jack. No matter how you cut it.”

  “No strip poker,” Eli said.

  “You’re just still mad because the last time I talked you into taking your clothes off, when we were about twelve, I think, we ended up getting caught skinny-dipping by that group of high school girls,” Jack said.

  “And that was the day I quit listening to you.”

  “Less talking. More betting,” Liss said, pounding the table.

  “Fine. Fine.”

  There was a knock at the door that sounded borderline frantic. And Eli knew that Kate wouldn’t knock.

  Connor got up. “Just a sec.”

  He walked out of the room and they all watched after him, listening. “Oh! Thank God you’re home.” A woman’s voice.

  “I’m always home,” Connor said, his flat tone carrying into the dining room.

  Connor. Full of charm as always.

  “I’m having a slight disaster.” Oh, no.

  “Come in.” Damn.

  More footsteps, then Sadie Miller walked into his brother’s dining room.

  She was a mess. Her hair was wet and hanging in twisted, yarn-like strands over her face and down her shoulders. She wore a baggy gray sweatshirt that had damp spots spreading wherever her hair touched the fabric. “I’m having a problem,” she said a little bit sheepishly, looking around the table at everyone.

  Jack and Liss both looked confused.

  “This is Sadie Miller,” Eli said. “Our new tenant in the Catalog House.”

  Liss’s eyes darted from Connor back to Sadie. “Oh. Hi. You’re the one doing the B and B?” For some reason, her friendliness sounded forced. And of course Liss knew about the bed-and-breakfast. In fact, Eli had a feeling she’d been involved somehow.

  “Yes,” Sadie said. “That would be me. Though, right now the B and B is doing me. So to speak.”

  “What happened?” Connor asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Pipes. Burst. And I was trying to—” she brushed wet hair out of her face “—stop it. To a degree. But I couldn’t. So I...uh...wrapped the pipes as best I could and changed and came here. I’m not sure where this falls under our tenant agreement. Technically this had nothing to do with my renovation and everything to do with me trying to shower in the upstairs bathroom.”

  Connor’s brows locked together. “Well...hell if I know. I didn’t really anticipate having to be involved.”

  Sadie blinked. “Well, we signed a whole...agreement. And there are certain things...as the...the landlord...and...”

  Eli sighed. “Would you like me to go and take a look, Connor?”

  Connor nodded once. “If you don’t mind.”

  I mind. I mothereffing mind. “Nope,” Eli said, sliding his beer toward the center of the table and pushing his chair back to stand.

  Sadie was eyeing him warily. “Thank you,” she said, and he could tell she minded about as much as he did. But she had no place to be irked in all this. She was the one who’d chosen to rent a place on his family property.

  She was the one with really quite nice breasts, thank you very much, that were causing him some problems currently.

  Getting laid in a small town was problematic. Which made breasts that were actually probably no better than average more noticeable than they should be.

  She didn’t look hot right now. She looked like a wet hen. He should remember that. He sent a meaningful message below his belt, but he had a feeling
it was going to get lost in translation.

  Mainly because his body never seemed to want to translate those kinds of messages. But then, what guy’s did?

  Especially not when the only company said body had enjoyed for the past six months was that of his right hand.

  “All right,” he said, “let’s go check out your disaster. I’ll sit this round out,” he told Jack.

  Jack swept the deck of cards to the edge of the table and leaned back, shuffling expertly. “All right, kids, get ready to lose your hard-earned money.”

  “Sorry,” Sadie said, as they walked out of the room. “Obviously I’m interrupting.”

  “It’s not a big deal. It’s a thing that happens a lot. Poker. I’m not going to miss one game. And the sad fact is, Jack’s right. We’re all going to lose our hard-earned money to him. And he’ll continue the grand tradition of having non...hard-earned money.”

  “I bet there’s a story there,” she said.

  “Isn’t there always?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, in my experience, there is. Speaking of—” she pushed the front door open and he followed her onto the porch “—what’s Connor’s story?” The end of the sentence was hushed.

  He closed the door, feeling a little uncomfortable having a stranger digging for information. Mainly because he was so used to family junk staying in the family. Because it was still ingrained in him. To keep the exterior looking shiny, no matter how bad the inside was.

  But Connor’s deal wasn’t really a secret. A cursory visit to Copper Ridge’s cemetery would tell his story in full.

  “I don’t know if you remember Jessie Collins.”

  “Vaguely. I might. Did she work at the Crow’s Nest?”

  “I think so,” he said, trying not to picture his sister-in-law too clearly. Because it was too sad, even for him.

  “Well, she was Jessie Garrett for about eight years. But, uh...she was killed in an accident.”

  It was a night Eli would rather forget. He could remember the scene clearly. A dark two-lane highway, and a car wrapped around a tree. He’d known it was too late for whoever was inside. That it had been from the moment of impact. He’d seen too many accidents like that, and not enough miracles.

  The car had been so messed up he hadn’t recognized the make or model. Hadn’t realized it was Jessie’s until one of the volunteer firefighters, who’d been first on the scene, had come charging back from the car yelling at him not to come closer.