Her Forever Cowboy. Marie Ferrarella
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So far, the jury was out on that decision.
“That makes two of us,” he told Alisha in a vague, preoccupied voice. And then he turned on his charm. It was never far from the surface. “First drink’s on the house,” he told her, “although I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here.”
That made two of them again, she thought. “No more surprised than I am to find myself here.”
“You’re sleepwalking?” Brett asked, tongue in cheek, although there was amusement in his eyes.
She didn’t bother answering that since they both knew she wasn’t sleepwalking, and the suggestion bordered on the absurd. She didn’t know just what she was supposed to say in response to something like that. Bantering wasn’t her forte and, as far as she knew, Pierce had next to no sense of humor. It probably couldn’t find a place for itself with his giant libido taking up so much space.
Rather than make small talk, which she had no patience with and was not very good at in any event, Alisha went directly to the heart of the matter that had brought her here to this dim little establishment with its scent of alcohol, noisy occupants and high spirits.
“I’m told you have an apartment,” she said to Brett. And with those words, Forever’s new physician managed to accomplish the rare feat of surprising Brett Murphy twice in the space of a few minutes.
The noise level being what it was, Brett decided that he couldn’t have heard her correctly. Leaning in closer, he said, “Excuse me?”
“An apartment,” Alisha repeated, raising her voice to be heard above the din. Maybe that rancher she’d treated this morning had misinformed her, and there wasn’t any unoccupied living quarters to be had in this town. Doubts as well as frustration began to set in. “Do you or don’t you have one?”
Had she asked that question of Finn, Brett was fairly certain that his younger brother would have thought that Forever’s new lady doc was hitting on him. But Brett had a few miles on him, not so much in age—he was just thirty-two—but in what he’d experienced during that time, and he knew the look of a woman who was coming on to a man. The lady doc was most certainly not hitting on him.
To be quite honest with himself, he didn’t think he could accurately describe the expression he saw on her attractive face.
From where he stood, Lady Doc was an enigma, a puzzle waiting to be solved. In a nutshell, the lady was a challenge, and it had been a while since he’d been challenged.
His interest level went up several notches.
“I do,” he replied, then asked, cautiously, “Are you interested in seeing it?”
Viewing the accommodations didn’t really interest Alisha. As long as the apartment—probably nothing more than an oversize closet, she guessed, given the nature of this town—didn’t come with a roommate, that was all that really mattered to her.
“I’m interested in renting it,” she informed him in no uncertain terms. “It is for rent, isn’t it?” Alisha asked, realizing she hadn’t been told that one crucial piece of information.
“I thought you were staying with Dan and Tina. Did I get that wrong?”
“No, you didn’t get that wrong,” she acknowledged. “For the moment, I am staying with Dr. Davenport and his family.” There was less than enthusiasm in her voice.
“I take it that’s not working out for you? Living there?” he added when she didn’t answer.
Brett couldn’t envision either Dan or his wife making the lady doc feel uncomfortable enough to get her looking for other living arrangements. Both Dan and Tina were warm, giving people.
Maybe it was the other way around. Alisha Cordell’s looks were hot enough to melt a passing iceberg at twenty paces, but for the moment, he had to admit that the woman didn’t exactly strike him as being all that warm and toasty.
Alisha frowned. She didn’t like being questioned or prodded. Still, if he did have an apartment, she couldn’t exactly just walk out now, the way she wanted to. So she answered his question—but let him know that she didn’t appreciate his prying into her motives.
“Not that it’s any business of yours, but I feel like I’m in the way. It’s not that big a place,” she added when Brett continued studying her.
Brett took a bottle from behind him on the counter and poured a glass of pinot grigio, then placed it in front of her. She looked at the glass, then at him. “I didn’t order that.”
“I know. It’s on the house.”
Another good-looking male who thought he was God’s gift to women, she thought, tamping down her anger. Just because the man had a killer smile—and he knew it—did he think he could ply her with alcohol and get instant results? He was about to be surprised, she silently promised the bartender.
Taking out a five-dollar bill, she placed it on the counter. “I pay for myself.”
Rather than offer her an argument, Brett merely took the money and put it into the till. “Suit yourself,” he told her then got back to the business at hand. “As to the apartment, if space is what you’re after, I don’t think you’re exactly going to be thrilled with it.”
“Why?” she asked.
“To be honest, the whole thing is really just one big room,” he told her.
His late uncle’s apartment was predominantly meant to be just a place to sleep or to get away for a few hours, nothing more. It was not intended to suit the tastes of someone who was high-maintenance, and at the moment, that was exactly the way this woman struck him. Extremely high-maintenance.
But if that was the case, what the hell was she doing here? He sincerely doubted that a sense of altruism was what had brought her to Forever.
She surprised him by saying, “As long as I have it to myself, that’ll be fine. I don’t care if it’s small.”
Maybe he was misjudging her. He’d been wrong before—once or twice.
Her answer led him to the only conclusion he could make. “So I guess that means that you’re staying in Forever?”
“For now,” she qualified guardedly. Alisha didn’t believe in verbally committing herself to anything, especially not in front of someone who was the very definition of a stranger.
“How long is a now in your world?” he asked.
“Why?” she asked, looking at him quizzically.
As far as she could see, there was no reason for Murphy to be asking her about her plans. It wasn’t as if renting the apartment to her would keep him from renting it to someone else. Obviously, the man had had no plans to rent it out to begin with. There was no sign out, advertising its availability. According to the rancher who had told her about