“Eminent domain?” Graham spared me a quick glance. “What’s that?”
Good. At least he was interested enough to ask questions. He might not have acted like he cared, but there was a spark of something somewhere beneath that semi-permanent scowl.
“It’s where the city forces someone to sell their property so that they can use it for something else. In this case, new businesses are lined up to take their place. A strip mall, some new others. Probably something like a Pizza Shack, too.”
“Pizza Shack has the best stuffed crust,” Graham muttered. It wasn’t until he looked over and caught me glaring at him, did he roll his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. No Pizza Shack.”
“The point is that these people are losing their homes,” I said, snapping my notebook shut. “And it’s not right. If we can get their stories out—put a face on the bill that the city council is voting on—we might just have a chance. That’s what my project is about. Well, our project, I should say.”
His mouth tightened a bit, but otherwise, he didn’t say anything as he ran his brush up and down the gazebo. I watched him for a minute, studying the side of his face. If we were going to be partners, I wanted to know more about him. What was Graham’s story? I wasn’t sure I knew much more about him other than he was a foster kid.
“How’d you end up in Blue River, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He looked down at me with a frown, as if surprised by my question. The paintbrush lingered in midair. His frown deepened and he opened his mouth to speak, when a glob of paint dripped from the tip of his paintbrush and landed right on his boot.
“Son of a biscuit!” he growled.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he looked over at me, his face turning beet red. I slapped a hand over my mouth and giggled. What the...what? I was pretty sure I’d never expected something like that to come out of a guy like him.
“Yeah, that’s right, laugh it up,” he said with a grunt, leaning down to wipe the paint from his toe, his face still red.
“What was that?”
He sighed dramatically as he squatted back on his heels and dipped his brush back into the paint. “Ken and Mary don’t allow swearing at the ranch. They’re deadly serious about it. Last time I dropped an f-bomb, I was stuck stripping and repainting the entire north side of the barn. So me and the boys had to come up with some substitutes.”
“And that’s what you came up with?” I giggled harder, imagining all of those tough cowboy dudes dropping cartoon-level swears on the ranch. “What else you got?”
His cheeks were still quite red when he put the brush back on the gazebo. “Well, there’s always guano.”
I grinned. “Bat poop?”
He nodded, a slightly amused smile on his face. “I came up with that one. The boys also like to use Harrison Ford when the time is right, French toast, and the all-time favorite, corn nuts.”
I nearly fell over laughing. If I’d heard Graham saying any of those at school, I would’ve thought he’d lost his mind. But I guess it made sense. He didn’t want to have to paint the entire barn at the ranch. I remembered it from my riding lessons. It was huge. It definitely wouldn’t take me more than one stripping and repainting to come up with an entire list of cuss word alternatives, either.
“Well, that just sounds corn nuts,” I said, looking up at the side of his face.
“Exactly.”
He didn’t meet my eyes, but the blood was finally starting to recede from his cheeks and that hint of amusement still showed in the curve of his lips. With a final laugh, I snatched a spare brush off the ground, dipped it into the paint, and began to paint next to him. He didn’t say anything, but I could almost feel the tension lower a notch or two in the air around us as the minutes passed by. Which was good, because the way things went down at that table yesterday on the ranch had definitely started things off on a bad note.
I hadn’t realized it until then, but being around Graham was what I imagined standing near a severed power line was like. It felt slightly dangerous at times. As if he could blow at any moment. And yet, there was that strange desire to come closer. To reach out your hand and see what exactly it felt like to touch something so raw and wild—
“Well, ain’t that cute?” a sneering voice called behind us, bringing my embarrassing thoughts about Graham to an abrupt end. “What is it that they say? Couples that do court-ordered community service together, stay together?”
Instantly, my shoulders rose to the level of my ears and every muscle in my back tensed. I knew that voice all too well. It was a voice I would’ve liked to file deep in my memory bank and never think about it again.
Turning slowly around, I fixed Derek Cook with a flat smile and sighed. “It’s not court-ordered, Derek. And we’re not a couple.”
He cocked his blond head to one side, his deceivingly pleasant expression not doing nearly enough to hide the dangerous flashing of his eyes. Derek stood at about six foot tall, his shoulders broad and built from all the time he spent at the gym his father owned next to his dental practice. His features were all very light and pale, probably thanks to his Dutch roots his family loved to remind everyone about every summer the Dutch festival came to town. He carried himself like someone who thought he was more important than 99 percent of the population. His nose was always slightly lifted, as if he smelled something bad.
Derek stood between his two best friends, Dustin and Kai. They were nearly as muscular as him and both played first string with Derek on our varsity football team. On the field, they were deadly. Off the field, they were simply bullies.
“Well, maybe he told you that,” Derek said, his tongue flicking out of his mouth to lick his lips, “but I happen to know that when it comes to an Oakie, if it’s not court-ordered, they aren’t doing it. That’s just the way they are.”
That tension that had lowered since Graham and I’d talked about made-up cuss words shot back up like a mercury thermometer on the Fourth of July. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Graham slowly lower the paintbrush to the ground and rub his hands on his pants. It probably wasn’t visible to Derek, but Graham’s jawline was rigid with rage. I stepped toward Derek in an attempt to put myself between them, before anything escalated.
“We’re just doing some community service, Derek. You should try it sometime. It’s a bit more soul-cleansing than just throwing your money at something. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work.”
Derek’s smile resembled something more like a shark than anything else. I could see the wheels spinning behind his pale blue eyes. He stared silently at me for a long moment, and then swore loudly. “That. Right there. That’s why I broke up with you. That mouth. It’s a shame a girl as hot as you had to come with a nasty mouth like that. I almost forgot.”
Heat poured into my face as Dustin and Kai guffawed and slapped their buddy on the shoulder. The insult was one thing. I could handle the ugliness that came off of Derek Cook in waves. It was the lying I couldn’t stand. Derek liked to pretend that he was the one who broke up with me. He’d told that story enough times that he probably believed it now. In truth, I was the one who’d broken up with him.
It was sad to remember how long it took me to understand that the way Derek treated me while we were dating wasn’t okay. But thanks to Hannah and some conversations with some ladies I respected, I’d eventually realized that real men didn’t break down their girlfriends day after day, making them feel insecure and vulnerable. Derek wasn’t a good boyfriend. And I deserved better.
Unfortunately, breaking it off with him hadn’t ended all of the abuse.
Before I could tell Derek to buzz off, Graham stepped up beside me, his chin lifted high. I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were both curled into tight fists and the way he widened his stance. The air snapped dangerously around him, and I was sure even Derek could feel it from where he stood.
“I don’t think a girl like Cassidy cares what a waste of space like you
thinks,” Graham said, his tone defensive.
The smile slid right off of Derek’s face. Not too many people in this town would’ve talked back to Derek or any of his family. He was used to going unchecked. He glanced at his buddies, as if to confirm they’d heard it too, and then he took a step closer to us. “What’d you say to me, Oakie?”
“I said, she doesn’t care about your opinion.” Graham’s eyes flashed. “Her mouth is just fine the way it is. Sounds like you’re just too wussy to be with a strong woman.”
If my face had been heated before, it was nothing compared to now. Little tingly movements darted through my stomach. I knew he was just saying it to get under Derek’s skin, but the thought of Graham thinking about my mouth was sort of...unsettling. Had he thought about it before this moment? And did he really think I was a strong woman?
Most importantly—why did I care?
I tried not to let the millions of questions intruding on my thoughts distract me from the scene playing out in front of me. Derek was mirroring Graham’s closed fists and tensed shoulders posture. His buddies were closing rank. There was no doubt, this was going to end in some fists being thrown. Graham looked scrappy enough, but there was no way he could fight off three guys at once. To even try would be crazy. Someone was going to get hurt.
Thankfully, at that moment, a white Ford pickup turned on the block and pulled into a parking space nearby. We weren’t alone. Derek looked over at the pickup and then back at Graham with fury blazing in his eyes. I knew that look. He wanted to start a fight. Badly. But fighting in public was one of his father’s big pet peeves. In private? Sure. But not where he could make the family look bad.
Derek took a step back and put a hand on each of his buddy’s shoulders. “Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here.”
I couldn’t even describe the relief that filled me as Ken White popped out of that Ford pickup. His gaze narrowed as he observed Derek and his buddies walking away, and then turned to see Graham standing stock straight next to me. Graham’s fists were still curled tight, his gaze trained on Derek’s retreating back as if he would’ve liked to run after him and finish what they’d started. But now wasn’t the time and Graham would be pummeled if he faced those three alone. I placed my hand gently on Graham’s bare forearm and he flinched slightly.
“Hey, thanks for that,” I said, dropping my hand quickly back to my side. Apparently, he didn’t like to be touched. “Derek’s the worst. He’s always trying to get on my nerves.”
I hadn’t expected Graham to stick up for me like that. It definitely wasn’t his battle. But it was nice to know he had a heart. Maybe working together wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Graham looked down at the spot on his arm where I’d touched him. He expression grew stormy and then he frowned up at me. “I definitely didn’t do it for you,” he shot back. Then, with a huff, he turned abruptly to march back to the gazebo.
His gruff tone was enough to get my hackles up once again. Apparently, I’d been wrong. Working with him would be that bad. Especially if we had to keep running through these wild mood changes. I couldn’t get a read on the guy. It was hard to know what was up or down with him.
“Everyone playing nice out here?” Ken White came to stand next to me, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He watched Graham paint another stroke with the paintbrush he’d retrieved.
“Yes, sir.” I smiled innocently up at him. Even if I was fuming inside, there was no way I would rat Graham out to his foster dad about that near fight. Not when he’d just stood up for me like that. I had my standards. “I was just briefing him on our first interview for tomorrow. It’ll take a little while to get used to the equipment, but I’m sure he’ll manage it.”
“I’m sure he will.” Ken nodded approvingly, his weathered face still glued in the direction of his foster son. “Graham’s a smart kid. He’s got a lot of potential. He just needs to find a healthy way to channel it. I think this project will be good for him.”
I didn’t say anything in response. All I could do was put on my best smile and nod along. I really hoped Ken was right. Because so far, I was having a hard time thinking that Graham was going to be anything more than a headache on this project.
Or that he’d ever understand how important this was to me.
Chapter Nine
Graham
The slow walk from school over to the address Cassidy had texted me this morning was torture. Every step felt like another nail in the coffin to my freedom. But I reminded myself this was also one step closer to making Ken trust me again. One step closer to having him loosen his grip. One step closer to me slipping away when he least expected it and finally going home.
It was all going to work out in the end.
As long as my babysitter played nice.
I could already tell Cassidy wasn’t going to take it easy on me. I’d rounded the block to where a bunch of shabby houses and businesses stood, and she was waiting for me on one of the porches with her arms crossed tight over her chest and her mouth pinched into a disapproving shape.
This was going to be fun.
“You’re late,” she said, looking down at her phone screen.
I laughed hollowly and shifted the weight of my backpack. “It’s just ten minutes. You try hauling all this stuff next time. It’s not exactly light.”
The impatient way she pushed her hair out of her face and tightly tucked it behind her ears told me she didn’t buy my excuse. Still, she didn’t say anything. Opening the screen door behind her, she gestured in toward the dark interior. “After you.”
I only hesitated for a second. One tiny moment as my gaze swept over the tidy lawn, the ancient-looking brown paint, the slightly sloping awning over top of us. It looked clean enough, but what was inside? Was this the kind of place I wanted to be? Or was Cassidy leading us straight into trouble?
Not that it mattered. I could take care of myself.
Brushing off the hesitation, I marched forward into the tiny home, fully expecting it to smell like cat pee or something. Instead, I was hit with a face full of a sweet floral scent. It reminded me of the perfume my mom used to wear, way back before all the problems started. Inhaling deeply, I followed the dark hallway past a bathroom and into a tiny living room.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the open blinds, but when they did, my gaze settled on a tiny woman sitting in a large red recliner. Her hair was completely gray and pulled back into a low ponytail. A few wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth. A matching red blanket hung over her lap. I stood there awkwardly, wondering if I should say hi or just get down to business. Old people were kind of freaky to me. I’d never known my grandparents, so I didn’t have much experience.
“This is Graham. The one I was telling you about.” Cassidy pushed past me and went toward the woman, not hesitating at all.
Her movement seemed to have unfrozen me. I dropped my bag on the floor and nodded at the old lady. Her clear blue eyes studied me closely, in a way that looked oddly familiar. It was as if she was stripping back my layers and leaving me exposed. I didn’t like it.
“He’s late,” she said in a clear voice.
Cassidy shot me a glare from across the room and then nodded. “I know. I already told him.”
She leaned forward in her chair, her lips flattening into a disapproving line. “Young man, one of the worst things in this world you can do is make an old woman like me wait. I’m on the Lord’s borrowed time. I could’ve croaked before you got here and then where would Cassidy be?”
“Grandma!” Horror filled Cassidy’s eyes as the lady cackled. “You can’t say stuff like that. You’re not that old.”
“I feel old.” She waved Cassidy away. “I felt old when your father came along and I’m older now. There’s no getting around it. Might as well share a laugh or two.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. It was all starting to come together for me. This was Sheriff Redmond’s mother! N
ow I knew why those stern blue eyes had seemed familiar. With this new information, I took another look around the small room. There were photos of Cassidy hanging on the far wall. Some of Sheriff Redmond. And some with a third woman who I’d never met but had the same yellow hair as Cassidy. An empty fireplace stood in the corner, a couch next to it, and a few random pieces of old wooden furniture. It looked exactly like what I thought a grandma’s house should be.
“Are we about ready to get started?” Cassidy opened her precious notebook on her lap and looked down at her annoyingly perfect writing. “Once Graham gets the equipment set up, we’ll dive right in.”
Apparently, that was my cue. I bent down and dug through the stuff I’d carried from school. Cassidy had dropped them off at my locker earlier today, making me swear on my life that I’d keep it all safe. It wasn’t like these were worth much. The camera was one of those ancient kinds that still had buttons instead of a touchscreen and the audio headphones were massive. I definitely wasn’t wearing those.
As I fumbled with the tech equipment, Cassidy chatted with her grandma about the status of her project. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard yesterday, when she’d come to annoy me while I painted. It’d been a weird interaction. I’d half hoped I’d scare her off, but then we’d started joking about ridiculous swear words and the next thing I knew, she was helping me paint her mom’s gazebo. I still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
But I knew exactly what to make of that Derek Cook.
We hadn’t come across each other much since I’d been at Blue River High. Derek was in a group of people who thought they were entirely too good for the Oakies. If we came near, they turned up their noses and sneered. Normally, I would’ve ignored him for the waste of space that he was...but the way he’d talked to Cassidy yesterday? Maybe I wasn’t exactly happy about how she’d gotten us tangled up together in this mess, but no way should Derek have gotten away with that. If Ken hadn’t shown up, I would’ve made him swallow a few of his teeth.
Cowboy Crush : A Small Town, Enemies-to-Lovers YA Romance (Sweet Oak Teen Ranch Book 1) Page 6