Guardian Cowboy. Carla Cassidy
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He climbed into his truck and instantly spied a piece of paper tucked beneath his windshield wiper.
“What now?” he muttered. He rolled down his window, reached out to grab the paper and then turned on the dome light.
Stay away from her.
Printed in bold, black letters, the words stared up at him. His heart had been racing with anger but it instantly quieted. He looked up and down the street once again, but there was still nobody to see.
As he looked at the note once again, his heart began to beat more quickly. What in the hell? There was no question in his mind that the “her” was Janis.
What was going on? Was this the same work as the person who had spray-painted the back of the bar? If that was the case, he had serious doubts the culprit was Zeke Osmond.
Then who? Did Janis have another boyfriend? Somebody she’d been seeing that Sawyer knew nothing about? Did she maybe have an ex-boyfriend who might be ticked that Sawyer was moving in on what he still thought of as his territory?
The anger he’d felt toward Janis slowly ebbed away. He liked her and he wanted to pursue a relationship with her to see where it led. The note only made him more determined to not stay away from her.
He sat in his truck and thought about everything until it was closing time. Once the bar went dark, he pulled around to the back, got out of his truck and knocked on her door.
She answered immediately, surprise on her features. “Sawyer,” she said and opened the door wider to allow him inside.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Her gaze searched his face. “I was afraid you’d never want to talk to me again.” She motioned him toward the chair. When he was seated, she sank down on the edge of the bed.
“I was definitely angry with you,” he admitted.
“I know.” She seemed miserable with her shoulders slumped slightly forward and her expressive eyes radiating despair.
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t fool me out of any meanness.”
“Oh, Sawyer, being mean to you wasn’t ever a thought in my head.”
“Then I think it best if we put all that behind us and we start over.”
“Really?” Her eyes instantly lightened and relief was evident on her pretty face. “I’d like that a lot.”
“And now there’s something else I want to talk to you about. Are you seeing somebody else?”
Once again she looked at him in surprise. “Heavens, no.”
“Is there an ex-boyfriend lurking around who has been trying to get back together with you?”
“The last boyfriend I had was over two years ago. He didn’t even live in Bitterroot and I heard through the grapevine that he got married two months ago. Why are you asking me these questions?”
He stood and pulled the note from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to her. “That was under my truck windshield wiper when I left here.”
She stared at the note for a long moment and then looked back up at him. “Are you sure this is about me?”
“I’m not seeing anyone else and haven’t for a very long time. It’s definitely about you.”
She dropped the note next to her on the bed as if it burned her fingers. “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.”
“I can’t, either, but I think we need to call Dillon.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
He nodded, pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and sat back down in the chair. “I do. This needs to be reported, especially on top of the spray-painting incident that took place. I’ll call him.”
“Sawyer, I just want to tell you again how very sorry I am,” she said when he’d finished making the call.
“I accept your apology and, if truth be known, I should probably thank you,” he admitted.
“Thank me?” She looked at him curiously.
He heaved a deep sigh. “Between you and Cassie, my eyes have been opened to my drinking issue.”
“Cassie?”
He frowned thoughtfully, remembering his conversation with his boss.
“Last Saturday morning, I decided to talk to her about me possibly taking over the position of foreman when Brody leaves. Since he got hooked up with Mandy Wright, he’s been living on that big ranch of hers and we all know he’s about ready to quit the Holiday place to ranch on his own.”
“So, what did she say?” She leaned closer to him, her gaze soft and her evocative floral scent swirling around his head.
“She basically said she didn’t think I had the respect of the other men because of the nights they have to put me to bed drunk, although she didn’t say in it those exact words.”
“Why do you drink?”
“I always thought that’s just what we did. We worked hard during the week and then went to the bar to drink on Saturday nights,” he replied.
“Do you like the taste of beer?”
He frowned thoughtfully. He’d never really considered the things she was asking him about before. “It’s all right,” he replied.
“I think you’re allergic to it or something.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You think?”
“I’ve never seen anyone totally pass out on so few drinks as you do.”
“According to my mother, my father was a raging alcoholic who suffered blackouts. I’ve had a few blackouts, as well.”
“You didn’t know your father?”
“He disappeared from our life when I was four years old. When I was ten, we heard that he’d died. It’s a good guess that he died from his alcoholism.”
“My father died from a massive heart attack when I was sixteen.” A deep sadness filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied. “It stinks not to have a father.”
“At least I had mine for sixteen years. You didn’t have yours for long at all. Do you have any memories of him?”
“None,” he replied.
Before they could talk any further, Dillon arrived. He looked at the note and then