them. Because, as he just said, he felt all familial toward her. And it was what he needed from her. He did not need her getting gooey over hugs. “If you could leave me a list of things you want to look at tomorrow, I’ll go over it when I get up in the morning and get started.”
“I don’t want you to spend your Sunday doing chores for me.”
“And I want to start as I mean to go on. These are chores. I want to help you. I think I’ve made that perfectly clear by showing up once every couple of weeks with groceries. And by bringing you food so you don’t starve and die.”
“You were sharing that responsibility with Eli.”
“Sure. But I called and reminded him most of the time. Anyway, just leave me a list, and tomorrow I’ll get started.”
“Okay, but I’m afraid you’re going to regret this a little bit.”
She laughed. “Maybe. But that’s future Liss’s problem. Present Liss is going to skip off to bed with a full stomach and not worry about it.”
He shook his head. “Fine, but when future Liss becomes present Liss she’s going to be cursing past Liss.”
“Maybe. But I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
Yes, this was going to be comfortable. Comfortable, indeed. And as Liss settled into her new bedroom, she knew that she had made the right decision. She was going to be just fine.
BY THE TIME Connor got back to the house Sunday night he was tired, dirty and grumpier than a bear with his ass stuck in a beehive. All he wanted to do was grab a beer, sit in front of the TV and pass out.
The damn cows had collapsed the fence on the far end of the property and had ended up scattering into BLM land. It had taken multiple four-wheelers and men to get the craven beasts back where they belonged.
Steak. He wanted steak. That was the other thing he wanted.
He had a feeling it wasn’t a coincidence, considering how obnoxious the damn cows were.
He remembered the list he had left on the counter for Liss that morning, and he perked up slightly. With any luck, the kitchen would be cleaner, and his paperwork would be done. And probably, just because she was Liss, she would’ve made dinner, too. After all, she had to eat, and she had worked all day.
By the time he walked through the entryway and into the kitchen he was almost smiling.
But there was no warm, inviting smell of a home-cooked dinner. Neither was Liss in the kitchen, prancing around in an apron and high heels. He had no idea why he was picturing her wearing that, since he had never seen her wear any such thing; he only knew he had pictured it.
What he had not imagined was Liss storming into the kitchen, barefoot, and wearing jeans and a T-shirt, scowling at him like he’d just voiced his desire to have found her cooking in high heels out loud. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” he asked, walking to the fridge, opening it, hunting for a beer. He was in trouble, and he wasn’t sure why. He was rarely in trouble with Liss, and Lord knew he had probably earned some that she had never doled out. But as far as he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong today. In fact, all he had done today was work hard and come home to a frowning woman. That was one thing about marriage he had not missed.
“Yes, we do. I was doing that paperwork that you asked me to take care of.”
He arched a brow. “You got a paper cut?”
“I wish, Connor, I wish.”
“I told you it was going to be a pain. You said you wanted to do it.”
“The thing is, Connor, it was not a pain.” She was saying his name a lot. The amount of times she used his name in a sentence seemed directly related to how pissed she was. “Connor, it took me about five minutes to deal with. There were just a few things that needed to be clarified and refilled out. In order for you to get your insurance money. You got the paperwork more than a month ago. I saw the date that was stamped on it. Why didn’t you send it?”
Well, that explained why he was in trouble. He hadn’t realized a whole month had passed since he’d last spoken with the claims office. But in his defense, he hadn’t really thought it was a simple fix. In fact, every time he thought about doing it, a hard knot of stress started to form in his stomach, and he broke out into a cold sweat. So he went and did something else. Anything else. And okay, it might have been easier than he’d imagined it would be, but there was no way it had taken her only a few minutes to do the task.
“I don’t know,” he said, because right then he honestly didn’t.
“That’s not a very good answer. In fact, it isn’t the answer.”
“It’s an answer. It’s the only one I have. I don’t know why I didn’t finish it. It just... Every time I thought about doing it, I didn’t.”
“Connor, this is the only way you’re going to get your barn built. You led me to believe, me and everyone else, that the insurance company was dragging their feet. But they didn’t have all the paperwork because you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t ask you to get in my face about what you found in the house. I just asked you to take care of it. That too difficult?”
Liss crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes, it is too difficult. I want to understand what’s going on.”
“There isn’t anything going on. I just didn’t get it done.”
“That’s bullshit, Connor. You even had it signed. You just needed to finish the body of the paperwork. All I had to do was fax it over today, and it’s being processed. It was that simple.”
“It wasn’t simple.” He slammed the refrigerator door shut and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Obviously, if it was simple I would’ve done it.”
“But you didn’t. Somehow, I managed.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, throwing his arms out, “I guess I just wonder what the point is. Everything I build, every single thing, just ends up getting destroyed. If I get the money it would just burn, too. Or maybe I would rebuild the barn, and then what? Is it going to be safe?”
His heart was thundering hard, his hands feeling a little bit shaky. He hadn’t realized the outburst was coming until it was over. But he realized, as soon as he had said the words, that they were true.
This ranch had been in his family for generations. And if there was one thing every generation of Garretts had in common, it was loss. When they loved someone, that someone left. When they loved something, it got destroyed. Connor had loved a lot of things. He had added one major bit of himself to this operation, the barn, and it had burned to the ground.
How many more signs from God did he need before he just stopped trying? A guy would have to be a damn hardheaded fool to not realize when things just weren’t going to grow where he planted them.
“You don’t really
