by Kristi Rose
Ms. Saira took Cori's hand in hers. “That's not your fault. You deserve a life, child. A happy one. You'll never be able to fix everything that he did. At some point, you'll need to walk away.” She gave her hand a squeeze.
Cori blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes. “Easier said than done.”
Ms. Saira took her in her arms and gave Cori a tight hug, rubbing her back in comfort. “While you're here, you need to promise to relax and have fun.”
“I can do that,” Cori said as they pulled apart. She stifled a yawn.
“Jeepers, Fort. Get this girl to bed. She's exhausted.” Ms. Saira brushed her thumb across Cori's cheek, wiping away a run-away tear before jumping up and shooing them from the kitchen. She hustled them down the hallway.
“I thought Cori could take the guest room,” Fort said while picking up her luggage.
Mrs. Saira waived dismissively. “Nonsense. The two of you are engaged. You've been dating for years. I'm not naive and have no problem if she stays with you. It'll make life easier for you, Fort. No unnecessary sneaking in or out.” She winked at them.
Cori made a strangled cry, but covered it with a cough.
“No need to be embarrassed, dear,” Ms. Saira said while opening the front door for Fort. She nudged him out and then Cori. “Have a good night,” she said and closed the door behind them.
Fort looked at the door, perplexed. “Ma isn't acting right.”
“You think? Maybe she's on to us,” Cori whispered.
Fort seemed to give her words some thought. “You might be right. Come on, we need to play this through.” He turned and tromped across the yard to the barn, not bothering to see if Cori was following. His place, a small apartment, was accessed by walking through the barn and sat at the rear of the structure.
He kicked open the door, then hit the light switch before dropping her bags by the door. She moved to stand in the center of the room.
“You live in a tiny house,” she said and did a three-sixty.
“What's a tiny house?” For him, he had everything he needed and didn't have to travel far to get it. A counter and sink with a two-burner hot plate made up his kitchen, and across from that was his bed. Ma had installed a curtain down the middle to separate the two spaces and give the bedroom privacy. Something he'd never needed. Until now, he supposed.
A love seat was in the middle of the room and faced the wall where a TV sat on an old iron sewing table turned entrainment stand. Because the floors were barn wood, thick woven carpets of various mismatching colors covered the area. For the first time, he saw the place through someone else's eyes. Yeah, it looked worn but homey, maybe a bit rustic. Possibly enough to put Cori off and keep her from getting attached. Ma fawning over her hadn't helped any.
“A tiny house is precisely this. They're all the rage. The only thing that's needed are wheels to tow it. And maybe minus the barn portion.”
“Does the smell bother you?” He'd long gotten acclimated, but he was told it could be overpowering. Poop had a way of doing that.
Cori beamed. “Nope. I like it actually. Weird, I know.”
Fort bit back a snarky retort. She was definitely a weirdo. “I'm not sure how you want to do this.” When he pointed to the bed, her eyes widened. He shifted his attention to the couch. Tiny indeed. “I suppose I could sleep there.” He'd have to hang his legs over the side, which would be uncomfortable as hell, but he didn't spend every night at home. Mentally going through his schedule, he figured he could reduce a few nights at home further by sleeping out on the prairie with the herd, and he could add sleeping at the station once or twice since he pulled late shifts. It wouldn't be odd to do so. OK, the couch might be doable.
“I'll take the couch.”
“If you insist,” Cori said and picked up her large suitcase.
As a kid, she'd been a pest worthy of an apocalypse. Always around and always had a snarky comment about what he was doing, whether it was breaking a horse, branding a cow, or whom he dated. Her dark hair had been long then, nearly to her backside, but she'd knot it up, tuck it under a hat, or braid it. The short style she now sported suited her. She'd always been a spitfire, but with her longer hair hadn't looked it. Now she did. She pushed up her glasses then swung the bag onto the bed.
“When did you start wearing glasses,” he asked.
“When my vision started to decline.”
“Is that why you stopped participating in beauty pageants?” He knew she’d hated them. They hadn't been her thing, but he couldn't resist a chance to tease her and pretend he thought vanity was why she quit.
She gave him a look that told him she thought he was stupid, stepped up to the curtain, and then jerked it across the room.
Dust went everywhere, and he took small pleasure in listening to her cough.
Fort wasn't sure what to do next. Fatigue helped him decide. He kicked off his boots, then hung his Stetson on the hook by the door. His hands were on the button of his jeans when she slid back the curtain with such force another dust cloud burst around them.
“Jeez, clean much?” She tossed him a pillow. There were two on his bed, and she managed to pick the one he liked best for herself. He caught the flat one and tossed it on the loveseat.
“I'm sorta busy, ya know. Working two jobs. Maybe you could make yourself useful and do it for me.” He went back to his jeans, undid them, and let them drop to the floor.
She rolled her eyes. “Don't hold your breath.” She tugged the curtain closed with less force this time.
Using an old Mexican blanket he got when he was in the Navy and his sleeping bag, Fort made a bed for the smallest person ever, which was not him.
Cori came from around the curtain and went into the bathroom. Her PJs were a T-shirt that reached her knees, and she looked like she could blow away in a strong wind. Or was in dire need of food. He thought back to how much she ate at dinner. A lot. He wondered what the last decade had been like for her. After using the restroom, he folded himself in half and tried to get comfortable on the loveseat. It was kinda hard with his knees higher than his ears and one of his shoulders hanging off the side.
“Dammit it all,” he mumbled and tried to shift, but there was no way to go.
“Shut it,” Cori called from the other side of the curtain.
“You shut it. You're not the one sleeping in a suitcase.”
He never saw her coming. One minute he was trying to balance and not fall of the couch and the next she was standing over him.
“Judas Priest,” he said.
She wasn't wearing her glasses. Her hair stuck up in one spot, likely from the pillow. Holy hell, Cori Walters was a knockout. She wasn't the overdone type. She was classic, and when she smiled, like she was right now, she sucked the breath right from his lungs, the feeling equal to a punch to the solar plexus.
A giggle escaped her.
“You think it's funny?” His arm ached and was tingly from hanging off the side.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Kinda. You do look like you're stuffed in a suitcase.” She hid her grin in her shoulder. When she turned back to him her smile was gone, though her lips twitched slightly. “I'm not heartless, Fort. I know we don't like each other, but I also know that working a ranch is hard, and if you don't get decent sleep, you'll be useless. I'm not going to be the cause of that. So”—she held up one finger—“I propose we share the bed. We have one thing going for us—the lack of physical attraction. So sharing shouldn't be a problem. We can build a barrier just as an extra precaution.”
She wasn't attracted to him? So she said. Back in the day he'd have argued that. Why else had she kept coming around?
“Are you really thinking it over?” she asked incredulously. Then changed to a teasing tone. “Is it because maybe you find me irresistible?”
“Hell, no,” he said. In one swift move, he vaulted over the couch and was on the bed in a flash, taking his pillow and blanket with him.
“Nope,” she said. “We ha
ve to do this feet to head. I'm less grossed out by your feet than your face.”
He sat up on his elbow and gave her a disbelieving look.
“Yes, I'm dead serious,” she said and swirled her finger in the air, telling him he needed to rotate.
“You're a lunatic. But then I already knew that. Runs in the family.” He flipped to the bottom of the bed and buried his face in the pillow.
“You say the town questions your commitment to them? Must see more of your father's flight tendencies in you than you counted on.” She slipped onto the bed. It barely dipped. He flipped over, an angry retort ready to spill from his lips when he saw her tiny feet. He would not let this small bit of chick get under his skin.
He flat-out refused. But that didn't stop him from counting the days until she left.
13
Cori sat on the arm of the loveseat and swung her legs. Nerves were getting to her. She'd gotten up before him, switched off his alarm, and had done something she knew would piss him off. His chores.
All his life, Fort had been needed, the person his dad depended on most. It might be mean of her to show him that, for some things around the ranch, he was just another hand. Plus, he looked exhausted. Several times last night he'd sighed wearily in his sleep. She'd even accidentally kicked him in the chest and he hadn't so much as startled. His lips were dry and more than once last night she'd seen him rub his temple. A headache combined with dehydration could mean fatigue. So she threw him a bone.
Never mind that she had a good time mucking out the horse stalls and feeding the goats. When Mrs. Saira had gone in to start breakfast was when Cori woke Fort.
He had not been happy. Even now he scowled at her in the mirror. She responded by rolling her eyes.
Once Fort finished shaving, they would head into town and begin their dog and pony show. She regarded her clothes, hoping her dark wash jeans, brown cowboy boots, and light yellow floral peasant shirt said casual and cool. Not hot mess and bumbling idiot. He was engrossed in the manly task of scraping off facial hair and she took the opportunity to study his profile. Darn if he wasn't hunky. He'd filled out in all the right places. “You know they make electric razors,” she said as she watched him slowly scrape a straight razor up his throat.
“Yeah, they don't work for me. My beard’s too thick, and all I get are red bumps and stubble.” He banged the razor in the sink and went back to shaving again.
“Okay, let me review one more time.” She needed to fill the air with something. Watching him shave was...intimate, and she felt like a voyeur. He was not her fiancé, much less her friend, and sharing this intimacy was confusing. Even in the bed last night, his feet close to her face should have been gross but wasn't. Having someone nearby was comforting, and it hadn't escaped her notice that all their important parts lined up regardless of sleeping head to foot.
He glanced at her. “Is any part giving you trouble?”
She looked away, focusing on the preserved antlers of an eight-point buck that hung over the bathroom entry and tried to erase the image of him shaving from her brain. “Nope, want to make sure I have it down. We're sticking close to the truth. We've known each other since we were kids. After you got out of the Navy, you came back to Texas for an auction as part of ranch business and came through Brewster for old time’s sake. That's where we ran into each other and reignited the old spark. The reason I haven't been up here is because of my job and family in Texas.” She snorted with cynicism. “Because, you know, my job in the photo department at the supercenter was so important. Working for like, Mitzi, the like imbecile fresh from, like, high school”—she tossed her head, pretending to send hair over her shoulder—“was everything I ever aspired to.”
“That's what you do. Work at the supercenter?” He was patting his face dry with a towel. “I thought you were handling the restitution.”
“That's my other job. The supercenter is what paid my bills. At least it did up until a few days ago when I lost my cool and told everyone within earshot to suck it.” She picked at a hangnail, still embarrassed by her behavior.
Fort studied her, and she squirmed on the arm, looking everywhere but at him.
“I'd have liked to seen that.”
Briefly, she ducked her head in shame. “No, you wouldn’t have. It was awful. Remember Mrs. McAdams?”
He nodded. “I dated Carly once.” He held up his index finger. “Just once because when I went to pick her up, Mrs. McAdams asked her if she wanted to live her life with a gambling fool. Like father like son, she'd said.”
At least his gambling fool father had been a jovial, friendly guy who never wanted to hurt people. “And she still made out with you in your truck?”
Fort glanced at her before splashing after-shave on his face. “Carly was going through a defiant stage. She got what she wanted from me and moved on.”
Even back then Cori had known Fort and Carly hadn't been well suited from the get-go. Carly was destined to become a shrew like her mom.
Cori pressed her lips together. “Yeah, well, she ran off with some guy from another town over. She never comes to visit. Can't blame her really. I suppose I had enough of Mrs. McAdams and lost my cool. When I told them all to suck it, I was really talking to her and the store manager who'd just promoted Mitzi to assistant manager of the department. Stupid girl can't even fix the processer.”
Fort smiled, a slight uptick of the corner of his mouth. He finished in the bathroom and walked into the main room. He took his Stetson off the hook.
Cori sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I have no business telling Mrs. McAdams to suck it, no matter how awful she is. My dad nearly ruined her family. For generations they were ranchers and, now, because my dad swindled them out of a good portion of their herd and some land, the guys have gone to work on oil rigs and the ranching is part-time.” She slid from the loveseat. “Let's keep all that out of the story, shall we?”
Fort's smile faded. “Okay. We can do that. So what are you going to say if they ask why you're here now?”
“I'm going to say I'm supporting your love for this town and dedication to the law. I'm here because I want to know what's so great about a town and its people that my man is making me choose between him and Wolf Creek or Brewster.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven't been into Wolf Creek yet, but I already choose it.”
“Come on,” he said and held open the door. “Let's get this over with.”
Cori said, “Morning” to all the animals in the barn as they made their way through. She missed working on a ranch and looked forward to doing as much as she could to help tomorrow.
The ride to town was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, today's conversation had been uncharacteristically civil. Cori smiled. They might pull this off after all.
Wolf Creek was adorable. As far as small towns went, it was tiny. Quaint, even, and she instantly loved it. Fort parked the truck a block from the diner, and as they walked toward it, he pointed out some of the businesses: the town paper, a market, a flower/trinket store, a women's boutique, and across the square was the sheriff's office and county jail. When they got to the diner, Cori froze.
“Come on,” he said, hand on the door ready to open it.
Her stomach rolled with apprehension. “What if I mess this up for you?”
“You won't. Ready?”
She nodded her head but said, “No.”
Fort's smil crooked up on one side. How long had it been since someone had shown her kindness? And Fort, whose life was forever changed by the actions of her father, was standing before her being gentle and understanding. She didn't deserve it.
She stepped back, and in a flash, he reached out and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers between hers. “I never figured you for a chicken,” he said and tugged her toward him.
The connection to him through his palm was a lifeline, a channel of strength where she found courage. With her hand tucked firmly in his, she didn't feel alone. Instead, she was half of a whole.
Yeah, a whole that was up to no good, relatively speaking. A whole that would split eventually, but for now she'd take it. She'd spent a lot of time living present day for the past. Now she was going to simply live today.
“Besides, I see Deke and Conway Witty in there. We need to figure out what he's up to.”
Cori straightened. “No good. That's what he's up to. Oh, I have this for you.” She took a zip drive from the front pocket of her jeans. “Here are his pictures. I don't know if you have some database or something you can run him through.” While Fort was showering, she had downloaded the pictures. Man, the fury on Fort's face when he'd seen her coming down the escalator had been scary and hard to look at.
He squeezed her hand, tucked the drive in his short pocket, then opened the door and led her in.
“Morning all,” he said and guided her to a booth at the back of the room.
The room suddenly grew quiet. Cori didn't have to look around to know she was being studied. She kept her eyes on Fort's back and a beauty pageant smile plaster to her face. She probably looked like an idiot; she certainly felt like one.
“Folks, that little bit of beauty Fort is dragging in behind him is his fiancée, Cori,” Deke said. Cori saw him standing by the counter. He gave her a small wave.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Cori heard her name a few times. Fort reached the booth, then stepped aside and guided her in. Once she was seated, he slid in next to her. Reaching across her, he took one menu from behind the napkin holder and placed it open between them. He then sat back and put his arm across the back of the bench seat, his hand touching her shoulder.
An older lady, grandma material, dressed in a cowboy shirt with rhinestones, slid in the seat across from them. Cori liked her immediately. Possibly because her short bob had pink tips.