“No one has lived here for a while. The place needs some attention,” the cowboy said.
She realized she had no clue what his name was.
She didn’t need to know either.
Sliding out of the passenger side, the engine wasn’t even turned off before River jumped out and raced for the tire swing hanging from a rope on the ancient tree. “River, wait! That rope could be dry rotted,” she warned.
“I’ll take a look.” The cowboy strolled across the grass and examined the rope. “Looks fine.”
“Stay right there while I look inside.” She directed her words at River.
The cowboy joined her at the back of his truck. He reached in, grabbed the trash bag and handed it over while he carried the rest. So much for sending him on his way.
“You have the key?” he asked.
“You can leave the bags on the porch. I can take them in.”
“I think it’s best I stick around and make sure this place is safe. Never know what you’ll find inside.”
Was there a chance it wouldn’t be safe? If she couldn’t stay here tonight where would she and River go? Without a means of transportation what would they do? Realizing she was standing there staring blindly, she pulled herself from her dismal thoughts and took the key from her pocket. Opening the screen door, it fell off into her hands. “Oh my.”
“See what I mean,” Cowboy said with a smile.
Unlocking the door, thankful that it stayed attached to the hinges, she stepped inside the foyer and was met with a strong odor of musk, which wasn’t unexpected since Roe had warned her the place hadn’t been lived in for quite some time. It smelled better than the last placed she and River lived.
“I’ll take these into the kitchen.”
“Sure. Let me see if I can find it—” Before the words were out, Cowboy had brushed passed her and was headed down the hallway. She guessed it would be the most obvious place for a kitchen. Following him, she stopped at the threshold, sighing.
“Welcome home.” He set the bags on the kitchen island.
Fortunately, it had a stove and refrigerator. Unfortunately, everything needed a good cleaning, and a coat of paint.
“Let’s see if this old thing works.” He opened the refrigerator. “It’s a miracle. It’s been stocked with food.” He looked over his shoulder at her, smiling.
She started to tell him that Genevieve had bought groceries, but he’d gone on to open a few cabinets. “Great. I hope the stove has been blessed too.” She opened the door to the antique stove. “Nope, no hot casserole.”
“This place certainly hasn’t seen a mop and bucket for some time.”
“Mopping never hurt anyone.” Alaska wasn’t a stranger to places that had been neglected. Where many people would be turning around and running, she had a soft spot for the forgotten and unkempt. She also had the ability to see beyond the dirt and grime to the possibilities. It saddened her that the house was in such terrible condition and had been left empty.
The downstairs was pretty much in the same condition. A large living room connected to the kitchen, and down the hall were two bedrooms. At the back of the house was a sitting area, without furniture, with French doors. “Oh great! So much for needing a key to get in.” One of the doors was left open. She peered outside at the patio and the remains of a flower garden that spread to a white picket fence. If she had to guess, this was once a beautiful place where people would gather and relax, maybe have breakfast or lunch.
“This ain’t bad,” Cowboy said from somewhere.
Following his voice, she found him in the elegant dining room. A long, antique cherry wood table was adorned with matching chairs. A buffet and side table were placed along one wall. Behind the glass cabinet of a hutch was a set of blue flowered china. She swiped her finger through the inch-deep dust layering the wood.
Alaska would have expected that she would have investigated the upstairs alone, but he took the stairs with her, looking right at home. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this.
What struck her as odd was that she didn’t suddenly feel her guard come up, suspicious of what his intentions were.
At the top of the second floor, she glanced out the window to find River still swinging on the tire.
“He seems like a good kid. He likes the place.”
She smiled. “The best. He never complains.”
“Well, he hasn’t seen the inside of this house yet.”
“It has a tire swing. He’s happy,” she said, peering into one bedroom. All the bedrooms upstairs were furnished, each with a theme color and antique furnishings. Outside of needing a coat of paint, they were all in decent condition.
“The previous owner definitely had a flair for antiques.”
She turned to cowboy and smiled. “I like it. In fact, it adds to the history of the place.” When she took a step inside a bedroom with him, she swiped her hand over the dusty nightstand and opened the top drawer. She lifted a pair of abandoned handcuffs and narrowed her gaze. “What in the world?”
“Now those aren’t antiques.” He laughed. “I bet someone missed those.”
Realizing what his tone insinuated, she dropped the cuffs back into the drawer and slammed it shut, paying no attention to the sudden heat in her lower belly. She turned, not realizing he was standing so close to her, she bumped into him, losing her balance. He caught her shoulders and cleared his throat.
He stepped back. “I can see some rain damage on the ceiling in one of the bedrooms. I saw a ladder in the outbuilding when we pulled up. It won’t take me but a minute to check out the roof for damage. That’s something that’d need taken care of fast.”
“You’re really being too kind.” Would he expect something from her? And why did she feel a suspicious tingling in her skin where he’d touched her?
“I’m only concerned. I want to make sure the ceiling won’t collapse.”
She waited until his bootsteps faded and then she went to the window in a back bedroom and watched him grab the ladder from the open shed just as he said he would. She’d been hurt so much in the past, she’d forgotten that there were still kind people that wanted nothing from her.
Smiling, she left her perch at the window and went to investigate the master bedroom. She’d never seen one so large, or so extravagant. Pulling the white sheet off that had been protecting the bed, the king sized four poster was definitely the focal point. Stepping into the adjoining bathroom, she admired the space, imagining how beautiful it could be with some attention. She stepped over and drew the curtain back on the tub…and met two beady eyes staring back at her.
Baaaaa.
She screamed.
CHAPTER 4
ARC TOOK OFF his Stetson and waved away the flies as he climbed to the top of the ladder and pulled himself onto the roof, carefully testing its stability as he went along.
Obviously, Alaska had no clue that he was a Colt.
She hadn’t even blinked an eye at the disarray inside the house. Most women he knew would have taken one step inside and turned back around. Not only had Alaska entered, but he could see the ideas in her head through her bright eyes.
He was glad that the roof appeared steady. There were a few spots that needed patched up, but they could wait until he had the time to come back out.
Why was he even bothering?
Buzz Colt gave her the house as a gift, and it was her responsibility.
Rolling over onto his back on the tin roof, he laid there under the shade of a large tree, looking up into the turned leaves that promised rain. He growled and pulled his hat over his face. He just wanted to relax a bit before he went back to life.
Then, something struck him.
He came to a sitting position.
Before he’d almost hit Alaska in the middle of the road, he’d said a prayer and swore he’d marry the next woman he came across.
Ah, shit!
The realization settled deep inside his gut. Although he wasn’t the most religi
ous man, he did believe in miracles. What if God sent the woman he was supposed to marry, and she was inside the house?
That wasn’t possible.
God didn’t like games, and Buzz had created this circus.
But what if?
He heard something. A faint scream?
“What the hell?”
Jumping up, he quickly slid his way to the ladder and shimmied down the rungs, but because he was in such a hurry, his boot slipped at the halfway point, and he lost his grip to tumble into a bush below.
“Damn,” he grumbled.
Untangling himself from the bush, he finally managed to earn his freedom and race into the house. “Hello?” Taking the spiral stairs two at a time, he barreled down the dimly lit hallway, peering into each room, before he finally found Alaska standing in the doorway to the master bathroom. Her palm was planted against her mouth. “What is it?”
She pointed into the bathroom but didn’t say a word.
He stepped up next to her and laughed. “That’s a goat.” Perched contently inside the tub was a brown and white Boer, who was nibbling the curtain.
“Yes. I know what a goat is, but what is it doing in the house?”
“I’d say he just wants to take a bath.” When she didn’t even crack a smile, he said, “He probably came through the back door that was left open. Come on, boy. You’re being evicted.” He grabbed the goat, who bleated in protest, out of the tub. Alaska was looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t worry. He’s harmless. I’m sure he belongs somewhere and, just like goats do on occasion, he escaped.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Bleeding?” He tried looking at the spot where she had her eyes glued to while keeping the goat from nibbling his face, but Arc couldn’t see anything except for a few spots of blood on his boots. “I guess I am.”
“I’ll take a look at it.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just a scratch.” The goat struggled to get loose.
“That could be more than a scratch. I’m sure there is a first aid kit somewhere.”
“How about I take this boy outside before he chews my face off.” He sensed her worry. “He’s a goat, not a cannibal. He’s harmless. He’ll be okay out there until I can figure out what to do with him.”
“Then you’ll come back in and let me take care of your wound?”
Arc found it amusing that she felt it necessary to patch him up. He had no broken bones, no pain, so he would survive, but something in her expression didn’t leave him any room for argument. That was a problem. If she’d known what he was pondering on the roof she’d be kicking him out.
He took the stairs, this time at a more reasonable pace, and took the Boer back outside. “You stay out here, fellow, otherwise the pretty lady might get a hankering for goat soup.”
As if he knew what Arc said, the goat bleated and took off for the grass, munching on the tall weeds. Back inside, Arc made sure the doors were locked and headed through the kitchen, stopping when he saw Alaska had come downstairs and she was standing at the window staring out. Her back was to him and he could barely catch his breath at her beauty. Her long hair had been pulled out of the messy topknot, so it hung loose and long down her shoulders. The sunlight streaming in made her appear almost angelic, but he knew better. Any woman that could take his breath away with one look was far from being an angel.
“There you are. I found a kit.” She shook the box. “Take that shirt off and sit on one of the bar stools.”
Far from being shy, Arc hesitated. Although her demand was quite innocent, his thoughts were not. He couldn’t deny that he felt a certain attraction, or connection, to Alaska and he barely knew her. The feelings were ridiculous, and he chalked them up to loneliness. He craved a soft body, and the gentle sway of her hips as she made her way across the room told him she’d fit the bill. But it wasn’t going to happen. It’d be too muddled. Women with children needed a certain patience, a protocol so to speak, that Arc wasn’t interested in.
The biggest issue: he didn’t trust her. A man only handed over lots of cash and a house to a woman he’d been married to for years, not one who took care of him at a clinic. Something wasn’t right and his gut warned him he couldn’t let his guard down. Remarkable blue eyes and smile or not, he didn’t like messy.
“The shirt?” she said, one brow lifted.
“Okay.” Dragging it over his head he felt a sting in his side.
“Have a seat.” She patted the stool.
“Sure.” He slid up on the wood and decided to play obedient patient. If playing nurse made her feel better so be it. “Am I going to live?” he teased.
“No. Unfortunately, we’re all going to die, but you’ll live to tell the tale another day. However, I need for you to keep breathing while I do this.”
A sharp pain attacked his side. “What the hell?”
“Not Hell but a twig. It was in your skin.” She held up the two-inch bloody branch. “Let’s hope the bleeding stops now.”
“I would have been surprised to find a branch growing out of my side later.”
“I guess it would have been, Cowboy.” Her cheeks flushed. The shyness was back, at least a sliver. “You haven’t told me your name. Shall I just keep referring to you as Cowboy?”
Her fingers were pushing around the wound as she continued to sidetrack him with talk. “You can call me Arc.” Her fingers paused on his skin.
“Arc? Where have I heard that name before?” Her brows scrunched. “Oh…”
“Arc Colt.” He saw the realization in her expression. “Yeah, Buzz’s son, at least one of them.”
“That explains a lot,” she muttered and went back to examining his wound.
“Does it?”
“It explains why you’re interested in the condition of the house, or was it interest on the person Buzz gave his house and money to?”
He’d give her one thing: She didn’t have any more trust for him than he did for her. “Why should I care who Buzz gave his money and house to? He had plenty.”
“You knew who I was, didn’t you?” She met his gaze.
The pitter patter of small feet sounded, pausing the awkward conversation. River came into view, his eyes widening. “What happened?”
“I fell into a bush and your mom is patching me up.”
“My mom fixes my cuts all the time.”
Arc started to respond, but Alaska beat him to it. “Why don’t you go swing for a bit longer, Son, and let me finish up here with Mr. Colt.”
“Arc,” he corrected. There was a change in her demeanor. Did she hold it against him because he was Buzz’s son? Or did she think Arc would suspect that she convinced Buzz to give her money.
Her cheeks were now pink. “Okay. Arc.”
“I’m thirsty.” River shuffled in his dirty shoes. “And I need to pee.”
“Use the bathroom down the hall then grab one of the bottles of water from the kitchen.”
CHAPTER 5
THIS WASN’T PART of the day’s plan. To nurse a shirtless cowboy.
There were far worse places to be, but, unfortunately, she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She shyly skimmed her gaze over his tanned torso to the large silver belt buckle glinting at his narrow waist. A thin line of crisp, dark hair started an inch above the leather and worked a path lower...
She carried her gaze to the birthmark in the shape of a dragonfly on his side. “Interesting.”
“The birthmark? If you think that’s interesting, all the Colt men have one.”
“You’re right. That’s fascinating.”
“You’re pretty good at this,” he said with a grin. “I see why you’re a nurse.”
“I’m not a nurse. I was a nurse’s aide. I took a year of nursing school, but I didn’t finish.” After making sure he no longer had any debris left in the cut, she opened the lid to the first aid kit and took out everything she’d need.
“Why didn’t you finish?”
; She hesitated, then decided to answer vaguely. “Life got in the way.”
He shifted on the stool as if his brawny frame was too large for the small seat. He was in shape…not body builder muscular, but toned and healthy—like the dips and masculine curves of a mountain range. There was an ease about him that she couldn’t quite explain, one that created peace deep within her. This struck her as odd because she didn’t trust anyone, especially a stranger who looked at her with a combination of curiosity and uncertainty. Maybe even a bit flirtatious at times.
His chin turned and her eyes quickly found a spot on his face as butterflies made their presence known inside her stomach.
She couldn’t allow her nerves to get the best of her.
I can do this. I’ve patched up a dozen men and he’s no different.
Stiffening her spine, she pinned a reserved expression, one a professional would wear.
The problem came when he smiled. That innocent action lit his eyes with a bright awareness. They were so blue, so lively. So aware. An unfamiliar, and very unwelcome desire, slammed into her pelvic area, causing her breath to come off her lips in a low hiss. This sensation could only be described as appreciation for the male specimen sitting in front of her. Nothing more. It certainly wasn’t an attraction.
Since she’d left River’s dad, she’d built an impenetrable wall around her heart. She’d managed to greet men with a perfected uninterest and unavailability. Although she was single, the part of her that still craved being held and having a man’s touch had been buried beneath layer after layer of distrust, disappointment, and fear. In fact, over the years, she’d forgotten that she was still a woman with needs and had immersed herself into being mom. From the time River was born, she dedicated herself to being everything he needed. When he was diagnosed with asthma, she watched his every move, carefully making sure he wasn’t in harm’s way. She’d been prepared with his inhaler when his symptoms flared. As a mother, she’d always been on her toes, but as a woman, standing here now, close to a partially naked man, she was anything but prepared for the emotions she felt.
Pour me a Drink (Tarnation, Texas Book 3) Page 5