Especially not with Wesley’s sister.
It’s not just my friendship with Wes on the line. I need to focus on theranch.
This crush—or whatever a city girl like Rose would call it—fling, maybe? It’s not good for either of us. I don’t need to be her distraction and she sure as hell can’t be mine.
But I’ll be damned if I didn’t check on her every night.
With or without her knowing.
I’ve been driving by the cottage every night since Monday. Once with a text—just like her friend Willow does.
And each night, I stay until her lights are out. Or at least go check on the cattle and redo my evening rounds before circling back toward the cottage.
Which isn’t until after two, so yeah, maybe part of my short temper these last few days is from lack of sleep.
But how does a man sleep when the woman he can’t get out of his mind .?.?. is afraid to?
It’s now Thursday and she checked in with me a few hours ago in the Saddle Room to sign off on payroll.
She looked good. It’s a healthy reminder of why I’m avoiding her.
The other reminder?
I’m on edge this week. The Callahans’ rodeo is this weekend and it’s the talk of the town, again. We took a hit for a few weeks last year—and the year before that. They keep making it bigger and better each year. As if they have any local competition.
My phone rings with a call from the front office and I answer on the first ring. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Hey, boss, that nice man is here again, asking to see Dallas,” Ginger says.
My gaze flicks to my brother in the kitchen. It’s three in the afternoon and he’s in pajamas. His hair is a wreck and he hasn’t shaved in weeks.
“Give me a second.” I lower the phone. “That guy I was telling you about is here again. Told you he’d be back.”
Dallas sips his coffee like I just told him one of our hands called out sick. “Fine, let’s get this over with. Send him here.”
“This is my house, Dallas.”
“What do you think we’re going to do? Wreck the place with a fist fight? I’ll just step outside and see what he wants.”
I lift the phone to my ear. “Send him here.”
“Both of ’em? Or should I offer to keep the little girl here?”
“He brought his kid with him?”
“Looks a little young to be his. Maybe his granddaughter?”
“Both of ’em,” I tell her.
I give Dallas a heads up that this guy isn’t looking for a fight if he’s brought a kid along—which only confuses him.
I step out as the tourist golf cart approaches the main house.
I nod to Jake that he doesn’t have to wait for them. Whatever this is going to be, something tells me it’s best kept private for now.
The man I remember from the other day steps out, then reaches for the little girl, lifting her out of the cart and setting her on her feet. She’s got dark curly brown hair, pale skin, and heart-shaped sunglasses.
The man looks a little better kept today—at least compared to Dallas.
