Part Time Cowboy

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.

They’d been trying to spare him because of who it was. But in the end, he’d looked. Because he had to be sure.

And then he’d been the one to officially notify his brother. And nothing in all of his life, in all of his training, had prepared him to stand on the front porch in his uniform and tell his older brother that his beautiful wife wasn’t coming home. Not that night, not any night after.

Damn trees. Damn road. Two people they’d loved lost that way.

Though in their dad’s case, he’d been at clear fault. Alcohol had caused his crash. Jessie had probably swerved to miss a deer, but they’d never know for sure.

“Oh,” Sadie said, her voice muted.

“So he comes by his attitude honestly,” Eli said, walking down the stairs to the driveway. “You want to ride in the patrol car?”

She looked at him, a brow raised. “It’s a short walk. Anyway, I don’t want to have any flashbacks.”

“Emotionally traumatized?”

“Completely.”

“Good. I probably kept your ass out of trouble.”

“Ugh,” she said. “Do not act like you did me any favors. What helped was getting the hell out of this town.”

“Is that what helped?”

“Yeah. There’s not enough options here. And there’s way too much free time. I badly needed to escape.”

“So why are you back?”

She sighed loudly. “Can I get away with repeating what I told you earlier?”

“No.”

“Well, fine. That is just a damn good question.” She took a big step and her foot landed in a pile of sticks that crunched loudly beneath her boot, before she shifted, her other foot making contact with soft dirt as she continued on toward the Catalog House.

“And you don’t have the answer?”

“You know...you have to live somewhere. And I’ve had a hard time finding a place that didn’t...suck. So I’m back here. Because—” she turned partway and offered him a shrug and a sheepish smile, the setting sun igniting a pink halo around her pale hair “—well, I am. And currently, all I’ve achieved is drowned-rat status.”

“Don’t go near the barn. Connor has rat traps.”

“And cats, I hear,” she said, tromping through the tree line and into the driveway of her...his...house. He followed, frowning involuntarily as he caught a glimpse of the bare flower beds. Sure, all that had been in them before was overgrown weeds, but she had them completely stripped now.

“Those are the rat traps I was talking about.”

“Don’t talk about cats that way in front of Toby. He’s sensitive.”

“He’s probably been talking to you about his feelings too much.”

“Was that a therapist joke?” she asked, moving ahead of him and up the stairs to open the front door.

“Yeah, it was. Excuse me, I’m out of practice with jokes.”

“Obviously.”

Her cat was there, on the kitchen table, looking at him pointedly. As if he sensed that Eli had absolutely no use for him, and he was greatly offended by it. Except Eli knew that wasn’t it because it was a cat, and cats had no higher consciousness, as evidenced by their reaction to string.

He stared back at the cat.

“He is unimpressed with you,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual. Now hang on a second while I try to figure out where the water shutoff is.”

“That would be helpful,” she said. “Water shutoff valves would be helpful.”

“Connor should have left you a list of that stuff. Where it all is. Fuse boxes and water mains. Though I’m betting he doesn’t even know where it is here.”

“How long has it been since anyone’s lived here?”

“A couple of years. An older lady rented it for about ten years, until she died.”

“This place is kind of full of sad history,” Sadie said.

“Yeah. Welcome to the Garrett Ranch, where the motto is, if it doesn’t kill you...just wait.”

“That is distasteful. I’m sure.”

“Completely, but also the story of our lives. Now, I’m willing to bet your shutoff is somewhere inconvenient, like...maybe the shed outside?”

“I haven’t looked.”

“All right, come on. If we find it, I can show you how to shut it off.”

“Maybe I know how to shut it off,” she said, following him back out the door and down the stairs. “Maybe I’m a water-valve expert.”

“But you aren’t,” he said, opening the door to the shed.

“Fine. I’m not. But I usually have nearby landlords who...do this for me. Which is sort of what’s happening now, except you’re involving me. Although, I have to say, I have never had a pipe just...explode all over me before. Not a euphemism.”

“How could that be...?”

Her eyes widened and she looked at him meaningfully. “Pipes...burst...liquid all over the... Oh, wow. Think about it. Please don’t make me say it. And I’m going to stop talking now. Please shut my water off.”

Suddenly, he got it. Heat shot from his face down to his groin. This was what happened when he spent six—okay, honestly, it was closer to seven—months without sex. His mind was completely void of anything that went beyond boobs and the innuendo that had just popped up. So to speak. It was enough to...well, as she’d put it, explode his pipe.

He did not have time for this. He didn’t have the patience for it, either.

“Fine,” he growled, stalking to the pipe that was sticking out of the ground in the back of the old building, wrapped in a thick swath of insulation. He reached down and pushed the valve up. “So now your water’s off. Direct me to your flood and I can see if there’s a quick fix that won’t require you to go without water all night.”

“It’s in the upstairs bathroom. So...back to the house. And I hope you’re enjoying this tour of...things that are not finished in the yard,” she said, leading them both back to the house.

“What are you doing with the flower bed?” he asked, looking at the bare dirt.

“I don’t know... Something. I was hoping someone could tell me which plants you...plant here this time of year. I don’t know anything about flowers or grass or... I’m going to do some investigating tomorrow.”

“Haven’t you planted flowers before?”

She shrugged. “There’s never been any point. I leave before anything grows. Or...when I was in San Diego I had an apartment and I had, like, a little pineapple plant in a pot. But some asshole stole it off the balcony. So I figured unless I wanted chains on my potted plants I’d just forget it. This is nice. I don’t have to chain things to the porch.” She opened the front door and walked in, then paused at the base of the stairs. “Up that way. The one off the master bedroom.”

He sighed and walked upward, toward his watery doom. Or something like that.

He could hear her following behind, her footsteps softer and off rhythm to his own.

He walked into the bedroom and saw a few damp footprints on the wood floor, then he looked into the bathroom, where there was a sizable puddle by the sink.

He sighed heavily and got down on his knees, the water seeping through his uniform pants, then he opened the cabinet doors. “What the...hell?”