by Jeannie Watt
Back when she was a stupid teenager, his deep brown eyes had filled her dreams. She used to scribble his name all over her notebook and practiced writing Bess Forester.
“Will you let me in?” Irritation filled his voice.
She huffed out a sigh, opening the door. He walked by and she caught a whiff of his sandalwood scent. Her stomach clenched. He’d worn the same cologne ten years ago.
“Want something to drink?” She tugged on her tank top, wishing she wasn’t wearing her oldest and rattiest clothes. “I might have a couple of beers.”
Daniel rubbed his head, as if he had to think about this.
“If we have a beer together, I’m not going to rip off your clothes.” That had taken her a lot more beers ten years ago.
He frowned, as though he could hear her thoughts. “I guess a beer would be okay.”
She pointed to her balcony. “Grab a chair.”
“I don’t know how you live in this jungle.” Daniel waved a hand at her lush flowers and plants. “Are you sure they won’t attack?”
“They might.” And if there was justice in the world, they’d attack him. Unfortunately, ten years too late. “If I were you, I wouldn’t sit too close.”
He raised a blond eyebrow but headed outside.
On the way to the kitchen, she swept up the newspaper spread over the coffee table and shoved it into the recycling bin. The place wasn’t filthy. She rubbed her neck. It was sloppy, just like her outfit.
Who cared? This was Daniel. The only time he’d been attracted to her was when he’d been drunk.
Since that night ten years ago, she’d never seen him drunk. Never seen him lose control. Who could live that way?
She popped the caps off two beers and took a deep swallow of liquid courage.
Why was he here? For ten years they’d made avoiding each other an art form. As close as their families were, if she knew Daniel was going to be around, she kept her distance. Up until that night ten years ago, she’d followed him around as if she were a drooling puppy. Her face flamed. Her crush had been painful. When he’d worked with his father at Fitzgerald House, she’d used any excuse to hang around him.
He’d just thought she was a kid.
The bottles clanked as she headed to her balcony.
His long legs filled her lounge chair.
He took the beer. “Southbound. My favorite.”
Of course it was his favorite. Now she’d have to find another brand.
“Cheers.” He raised his bottle.
She didn’t clink her bottle with his. Taking a gulp, she smacked the bottle down on the glass table sitting between their chairs. “What do you want?”
“Jesus, Bessie, can’t we be civil?” Daniel pushed sun-bleached hair off his forehead.
She remembered how silky those strands of hair felt between her fingers. “When I look at you, I don’t feel particularly civilized.”
One golden eyebrow arched up.
“So is this visit about my rent?” She took another gulp and choked. “What kind of increase will I be looking at in October?”
Bess hoped not much. Without her King’s Gardens income, she’d have to economize. No more new orchids.
Daniel picked at the bottle label with his thumbnail. “I’m not here about rent.”
“So there’s no increase this year?” What a relief.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “We couldn’t figure out another way to do this.”
She frowned. “Do what?”
“Finance the Carleton House work.” He leaned forward. “We’re turning these apartments into condominiums.”
“Condos?” She dropped her feet to the floor.
“The market’s hot. Ask your future brother-in-law.”
She didn’t need to ask Abby’s fiancé, Gray, about the market. She knew real estate prices were going back up.
“I’m sorry.” Daniel swung his legs over the side of the chair, brushing hers. “We’re not renewing your lease. I...my parents wanted me to warn you.”
“This is my home.” She waved a hand, almost clipping his jaw. “I’ve lived here for four years. I helped your dad paint every apartment.”
“I know.” He held up his hands. “We need the cash.”
“Get Gray to put up more money.” She threw both hands in the air, knocking his arm.
His lips formed a straight line. “We can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” She couldn’t deal with this on top of losing her job. And to have Daniel come here and...and announce she was losing her home was wrong.
“This is my place.” Her sanctuary. “The light in the apartment is perfect for my orchids. Where will I find fifteen-foot ceilings?”
“Slow down.”
“No!” This day had gone from bad to heading for the Dumpster. Her fingers clenched into tight balls of fury.
He stood. “I’m sorry.”
She jumped up, not willing to have him tower over her. “Let me stay.”
“We can’t.”
“How about a...a contract for deed.” She could pay them over time.
“We can’t. This is for Carleton House. For your family.” Pity filled Daniel’s eyes. “We need you out by September thirtieth.”
“The thirtieth?” she squeaked.
He stared at her fists. The idiot backed up, holding his hand in front of his face.
“Oh, good Lord, I won’t break your nose.” She threw her hands in the air.
“Are you sure?” Daniel took another step back and stumbled over the lounge chair. “You’ve broken it before.”
“I was seventeen.” And he’d just told her that sleeping with her had been the biggest mistake of his life. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“I’ve never been sure it was an accident.”
She glared at him. “We’re not talking about that night. Ever.”
Copyright © 2015 by Nan Dixon
ISBN-13: 9781460388525
To Kiss a Cowgirl
Copyright © 2015 by Jeannie Steinman
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