Part Time Cowboy (Copper Ridge Book 1) Page 7

  “And?”

  “No magic yet. But I do think I’ve finally realized that it doesn’t really matter where I live. I’m not going to find a perfect place that makes me perfect. So I figured I’d come back here and wrestle demons.”

  “What kind of demons are you wrestling?” he asked.

  It was said drily. Insincere. And yet she found she wanted to answer. She found she wanted to talk to him about the demon she’d met head-on the night he’d arrested her. The night she’d nearly been killed.

  She didn’t blame him for that. Not really. She knew dimly that some people might. But she’d never put her father’s actions onto Eli Garrett’s shoulders. Because it had started long before then. Because she had a feeling that night was inevitable. Regardless of what date it fell on, regardless of what triggered it.

  And it had been the reason she’d gotten into her car and driven away. And never once looked back. Until now.

  “This way,” Eli said, pointing his light toward a cluster of pine trees off to the left. “We can cut through here. It’s faster.”

  She followed him through the trees and into a clearing. There was a house up the hill, surrounded by trees, the porch light on as if someone inside the two-story wooden cabin was waiting for them. Wide steps led up to a wraparound deck with a glass door, and large windows dominated the front of the place, making the most of the location, set deep into the trees and far away from any roads.

  “No wonder you’ve never left,” she said.

  “Well,” he said, “not much point when you have a house ready and waiting for you, is there?”

  “Sure there is,” she said. “If my parents had given me their house I still would have run. Happily for me, they never offered. I think the house ended up with the bank when they went to Coos Bay.” She felt like the statement was a little more revealing than she might have liked, but oh well.

  “Well,” he said, obviously uncomfortable. And obviously unwilling to say more, even though the well held a wealth of meaning. He was really, at his heart, a decent man, even if he was reluctant in his decency.

  “Well,” she said, matching his tone, “my parents’ house was essentially the crap cherry on top of a landfill, so for that reason alone I wouldn’t want it. Thank you for being too nice to say that.” She hopped over a tire rut that was filled with muddy water and continued following him down the road.

  “I wasn’t thinking it.”

  “Bull, and ten points if you can guess the word that follows.”

  “I wasn’t, Sadie. I’ve been to a lot of houses like that. I’ve seen a lot of things. People have hard circumstances. And I don’t like to think of their living situations that way.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “They do. Trust me. I mean...we do. We know.”

  “I don’t judge people based on where they live.”

  “Is that honestly how you feel? Or are you just throwing out some...good-guy line?” she asked, as they came to the end of the road, where it narrowed and led up to his house.

  “Honestly?” he asked, turning to face her. “I care about this place. I care about Copper Ridge. And I care about Logan County. This is my home. And the people here are my responsibility. It’s not my job to look down my nose at anyone. It’s my job to protect the people here.” He continued walking, turning away from her again, his broad back filling her vision.

  Her heart jammed up against her sternum. Anger mixed with a strange kind of longing that she didn’t want to apply to him. That she didn’t want to apply to anything or anyone, really.

  “And you do a damn fine job, I’m sure,” she said, following him up the steps and waiting for him to unlock his door. The man locked his door. In Copper Ridge. Dear Lord.

  “I know,” he said. “I haven’t exactly been hanging out for the past ten years so my first arrest could tell me that, but now that you have, it’s sort of nice and circular. I could use it for my campaign.”

  “Hold up,” she said. “Campaign?”

  “Yes. I’m running for sheriff.” He bit the words out as if sharing them with her was a monumental task.

  “Oh, really?” she said, eyes widening. She couldn’t help but be...intrigued by that. Maybe intrigued was the right word. Because Eli Garrett seemed to be a few things to her, and none of them were overly diplomatic. And it seemed to her, not that she was an expert, that a person running for any sort of elected position needed to behave, at least some of the time, like he didn’t have a stick lodged in his rear.

  But that was just her take on it.

  “Yes,” he said. “Really.”

  “Well, color me intrigued. What all does this entail?”

  “Right now? I was the top finisher in the primary, and the final election is in November. My lead was pretty strong, but I still need to keep campaigning. Make more signs. I have a few months to prepare for a community Q & A,” he said, pushing the door open. “This is the house.” He swept his hand in a broad gesture across the living space. It was open, and neat, very different from his brother’s place, which had an air of sad neglect about it, every bit of dust and dirt a fingerprint of grief. Eli’s home had no fingerprints at all. Which, in and of itself, she found fascinating.

  “Wow. Connor should hire you,” she said.

  “Because I’m not at all busy,” he said. “I mean, obviously I’m not. I’m here getting water for you and letting you use my shower.”

  “Because you care for the members of the community,” she said. “Which I am, at this moment, grateful for. Much more so than that time you cared for the community by handcuffing me and putting me in the back of your patrol car.”

  “That seems to come up a lot.”

  “It’s our cute meet, meet cute, whatever they call it. It’s part of our story,” she said, watching the tension between his brows intensify with each word. There was no doubt, she disturbed him. And he was growing even more disturbed having her in his house.

  “Right. So, the bathroom is upstairs. Feel free to take as long as you need in the shower. I’ll get the water ready for you to take back.”

  She cleared her throat, annoyed with herself for finding sincerity so hard. She was a basket case. Why anyone took her advice on anything was a mystery to her, particularly when she acted like this. “Thank you. Honestly. I know that I’ve sort of crashed into your life sans finesse here, and I appreciate you...well, I’m glad you haven’t found a reason to arrest me again and I’m very grateful for the chance to shower.”

  He nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to go and...shower now.” And she was going to hope that she could do it without thinking too much about his proximity. Or without thinking about him at all. Yes, not thinking about Eli Garrett at all—in the shower or out—would be the ideal thing.

  If only she could manage it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELI GRITTED HIS TEETH and hunched his shoulders, trying to ignore the sound of the running water. Trying to ignore any and all thoughts of Sadie in the shower.

  It was hard, no pun intended, because there hadn’t been a woman in his house, in his shower, in...possibly ever. It had been so long since he’d had an actual relationship, he couldn’t remember. Longer still since a relationship had mattered, since every actual girlfriend he’d had sort of faded into the distant past like a soft hazy dream.

  The kind he had no desire to revisit. Because girlfriends were a whole level of responsibility he didn’t want or need. At this point, with Kate still unsettled and Connor deep in his grief, Eli couldn’t fathom taking on much more.

  Which is why it’s obviously the best time to increase your workload.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, before dropping his hands back to his sides and stalking to the fridge. He was going to drink a beer. And he wasn’t even going to bother to go back for the poker game. They’d all do fine without him.

  He pulled a cold bottle out from the back and popped the top off with the magn
et opener he kept stuck to the freezer.

  Yeah, it was a terrible time to take on more. Connor needed help on the ranch, and he always would. It was their legacy, and Eli had to take part in it. Then there was the emotional aspect of dealing with his family.

  On top of that, Sadie being in residence was adding another layer to his to-do list that he did not need. Because for all Connor said he was going to handle it, here Eli was, freaking handling it.

  Not a huge surprise and not much he could do about it, either. Five years. Five years of Sadie and foibles that would undoubtedly be similar in nature to this. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been an ax murderer in a past life and he was destined to spend this one atoning.

  But then he remembered reincarnation was bullshit and took another drink of his beer.

  And reincarnation was not the only thing that was bullshit. That there was a naked, wet woman in his house whom he could not and would not touch was also bullshit.

  He’d had a permanent frown etched into his face since Sadie had shown up. He didn’t even feel like trying to fix his attitude. It was just one more thing to add to his list of things to worry about. One more thing that he had to add to an increasing, unwieldy pile of Things For Eli to Manage.

  Things he knew without a doubt wouldn’t get taken care of if he didn’t do it. Because that was life. It was his life.

  Which he was normally not so bitter about. But something about the addition of a woman whom he wasn’t allowed to touch, a woman he shouldn’t even want to touch, naked in his house was like jamming an injured thumb into the center of a lemon. Grabbing two empty gallon jugs from under the sink, he began to fill them for the woman he was trying not to picture naked.

  He heard soft footsteps on the stairs and turned to see bare feet come into view. Bare feet with shocking pink nails. Followed by baggy black pants and a very soft-looking shirt, molded to breasts that he should not stare at—but did anyway—and then the rest of Sadie appeared.

  Her blond hair was wet and piled on top of her head, tendrils falling down the sides of her face, her cheeks flushed from the hot water. Her makeup was gone. Lashes that had looked dark and heavy were now spiky and pale.

  She looked damp and warm and he had no business wondering about her body temperature, or her level of dryness.

  “Thank you,” she said, her feet hitting the floor. She walked to the kitchen counter and slung her bag, and her shoes, onto the granite surface. “I feel more like a human and less like a mole person, so that’s always good.” She was smiling now, effortless, friendly.

  As if she hadn’t been pissy and sulky with him only a few minutes ago. As if they had no history between them whatsoever.

  Fine, it didn’t matter to him. She was just a problem to check off his list. He was not going to waste time overthinking her. He didn’t have the time to waste.

  “Shoes,” he said, the muscles in his back tensing from his belt line to his shoulders.

  “What?”

  “Take your shoes off my counter, please.”

  “Sorry,” she said, pulling them from the surface that would now have to be disinfected.

  “Yep,” he said. “I’ll grab your jugs for you.”

  Her blue eyes rounded. “Oh, really?”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to...grab my jugs for me... I don’t... You’ve had sex before, right?”

  Heat assaulted him, starting in his face and burning a line straight down his chest to his cock. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You seem to be operating on a frequency wherein sexual innuendo doesn’t exist.”

  Jugs. Suddenly an image of him putting his hands over her breasts and, well...grabbing them...flashed through his mind. “Because I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy,” he shot back. “And I don’t call women’s breasts jugs.” He said the last part through gritted teeth, trying to figure out how in the hell he’d gotten into a conversation about breasts with the woman whose breasts had been tormenting him from the moment she’d crashed back into town like a blonde tornado.

  “Well, that’s mature of you. I don’t typically call them jugs, either. I prefer ‘the girls’ or ‘sweater bunnies,’ but even I went there.”

  He about choked on the sip of beer he was trying to take. “Don’t you have work to do back at your place?”

  “Nothing pressing,” she said.

  He gritted his teeth. “Do you want a beer?” He didn’t want her to stay for a beer. Why was he so compulsively appropriate? Especially when she was standing there talking about sweater bunnies.

  “Thank you,” she said, “that would be good.”

  He laughed, even though he found nothing about any of this funny, and turned back to the fridge, tugging another bottle out, and opening it before sliding it across the counter toward her.

  In spite of himself, he found he was curious about her plans for the Catalog House. Because maybe if he knew about the changes, they wouldn’t feel quite so invasive. A long shot, but worth a try.

  And anything was better than talking about her breasts.

  “What’s next on your list for the place?” he asked.

  “I have to make the downstairs back bedroom livable. That’s going to be my room. It’s small, and part of an addition. So it’s a little damp and chilly, but with caulking and some oil heaters I won’t die. And since we’re headed into summer it won’t be bad at all. Then obviously I need to make sure the plumbing is better than it is. Flower beds are a priority, and linens and blinds. And after that, barring menu creation, I should be good to start advertising and getting special events scheduled.”

  “Wait...special events?”

  “Yes! I thought it would be fun. Ranch tours. Picnics. And I’m thinking on Independence Day a community party would be great.”

  “People. Here?”

  “Yes, people. I’m opening a bed-and-breakfast, for people and not, despite what you may have thought, cats. And if I want to attract people, it seems like bringing visibility to the place is the way to do it.”

  “What’s the point of attracting locals?”

  “Uh, locals go away on romantic weekend getaways to local places. And also, their family members come and visit. And people from surrounding areas might come to the parties and think of me. And honestly, maybe they’ll think of Garrett specifically when they go to buy beef.”

  “How do you know about what we do on the ranch?”

  “I Googled it. Because I am interested in helping you. And me. It’s all...symbiotic helpfulness. And what’s wrong with that?”

  He felt like he was losing control. Like she had come along, grabbed his control and was running around holding it over her head, laughing maniacally as he tried to reclaim it.

  “What’s wrong with that is you’re proposing to turn this place—my place—into a fun fair. We live here. We work here. This isn’t a carnival.”

  “I never said it was! But what’s wrong with a few special events? It’s not like I have to take over the barns. I mean, I would, but I can keep it contained.”

  “Have you run any of this past Connor?”

  She shrugged. “Not...specifically, but he did agree to let me bring a certain amount of the public onto the property when I initially sent over my business plan, so I didn’t see why this would be a problem.”

  “You didn’t see why it would be a problem?” he asked.

  “No. I didn’t.” She took a drink of her beer. “I’m running a business, and it benefits Connor, benefits Kate and you. I have a five-year lease agreement, and it seems to me that we should all be into ideas that will make things more successful. Right?”

  “Not ideas that include my ranch crawling with a bunch of random people. I don’t like that kind of disorder.”

  “You are the singularly most frustrating, uptight, obtuse... No one makes me mad, Eli. No one. I am not an angry person. I like to smile. And every time I’m around you, no matter how cheerful I determine to be, I end
up irritated.”

  “That’s funny, Sadie, because I feel like I end up irritated every time I’m around you.”

  “I just think your irritation is contagious,” she said.

  “Maybe you’re so irritating you irritate yourself.”

  “Oh! Bah! What are you, twelve?”

  “I thought you were the one acting like an adolescent boy, not me.”

  “No, I am the one acting like I have a sense of humor. Because I do. And you,” she said, drawing her beer against her chest, “are ridiculous. And humorless.”

  “If you think that barb is going to wound me, you obviously don’t know me very well.”

  “I don’t know you very well. And I’m content with that. I think I will spend the next five years not knowing you very well.” She grabbed her shoes from the stool and plopped onto it, bending over and fidgeting while she put them on her feet. She straightened, a clump of wet hair falling out of her bun. “I’m going to go now. And I’m taking the beer. And the water. Thank you. Again. I’ll try not to bother you anymore.”

  He snorted. “Good luck.”

  “Oh, I don’t need it. I don’t mind bothering you. You are clearly the one who is bothered by being bothered. So...you’re the one who needs the luck, not me.”

  She stood up, collected her bag and managed to grab the water jugs as well, then turned on her heel and stormed out toward the entryway, out the front door, slamming it shut with her foot and rattling the windows.

  She had no right to be angry. He was the one who had every righteous reason to be pissed. She was a tenant, not a part owner. She had no right to be making decisions that affected his life and his business.

  Tomorrow, he was going to talk to Connor about her. And very definitive boundaries. After he was done with work anyway. He groaned and shoved his beer back. It was officially getting too late for him to stay up and drink. Sadie Miller had ruined his entire evening, and now he was going to have to go shower in a shower still wet with water that had been on her body. And then he was going to have to sleep with visions of sweater bunnies and strangers doing the hoedown on his porch dancing in his head.