THE SOUND OF a drill brought Cole’s head up as he walked by the bunkhouse on his way to the barn, where he planned to start fixing the corrals for the three orphan calves he was taking off his sister’s hands. The drilling stopped, followed by a clatter and a muttered curse. When they’d spoken earlier about the hole under the sink, Taylor had seemed clueless about repairs, but judging from where the noise was coming from, she appeared to be tackling them herself.
None of your business.
Actually, in a way, it was his business. If it turned out that Taylor was handy with tools, then her assumption that he would fix her problem was going to irk him that much more. In fact, it had already irked him to the point that he single-handedly moved a mattress and box spring out of Karl’s basement and hauled them over to the bunkhouse so that he didn’t have to have any more contact with her than necessary. And if that mattress and box spring happened to be twin-size instead of the queen-size bed in the guest room, so what? A twin bed would fit her just fine, and maybe someday he’d have guests.
Cole forced himself to ignore the bang that erupted from inside the bunkhouse and walk on.
He’d spent too much time on the guest ranch. Too much time smiling when he wanted to walk away from some self-important douchebag with a snotty attitude. Granted, for every douche, there were at least ten people he enjoyed helping, but the jerks did tend to stick out. And then there were the ladies who seemed to think that he was fair game. He was game for quite a bit, but not with clients. Something like that was not only wildly unprofessional, it would have given Miranda an advantage over him—and that was the last thing he’d have let happen.
He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It felt so damned good working alone, not worrying about politely dealing with the public, or what part of his life Miranda was going to try to control just to prove to him that she could.
Now if he only had his farm to himself…
In good time. After all, how long was Taylor Evans going to be able to stand living in a bunkhouse?
That was the exact question his cousin Jordan put forth to him when they met for beer and burgers at McElroy’s Bar early that evening.
“Not long. I hope.” Cole took a drink and set his beer back on the table. “But here’s the thing—she must be desperate to be there at all, so maybe how long she stays is out of her control. The fact that she’s there means that she’s in a rough place.”
“Good point.”
“You should see her. Not exactly farm material. She drives a freaking classic Z.”
“What year?”
“Looks like a ’72.”
“No.” There was an envious note in Jordan’s voice.
“Yep.” Cole let his chin drop. “She can’t stay there forever.” He realized that he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.
“You hope.”
“Thanks, Mary Sunshine.”
Jordan laughed, and despite his dark mood, Cole grudgingly smiled. It was good to see his cousin so relaxed and happy. Jordan hadn’t had an easy life. He’d been injured and disfigured during his time in the military, and while he was recovering, Miranda had done her best to steal his inheritance on a technicality. He’d been in a bad place for a long time, but now he had his mountain ranch, a wife he adored and a baby on the way. Cole’s problems were trivial in comparison. He had a woman on his ranch when he wanted to live alone.
In all honesty, how bad was that? Cole let out a sigh. “Sorry to unload. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I get what the deal is,” Jordan said simply. “You’ve been working with the kind of people I avoid at all costs for years, and now, after you escaped, you have one of those same people invading your space for an indefinite amount of time.”
“Pretty much.”
“You have a right to be pissed off, but I’ll tell you what I think is going to happen.”
“Yeah?”
Jordan leaned his forearm on the table. “You’re going to go about your business as if she isn’t there. She’ll do the same once she realizes that you aren’t going to put out her fires for her. The two of you will live parallel lives until she moves on.”
“If I have anything to say about it, we will.” But she was still going to be there and he was still going to be acutely aware of the fact.
“You know she’s still looking for jobs in urban areas,” Jordan pointed out.
“I’d say that’s a given.”
“And if she gets a job locally, she’ll probably rent one of those apartments on the lake.”
“Good point.” The lake near the center of the Eagle Valley had seen a lot of development, and there were several new apartment buildings and condo complexes. The little town was growing, and he couldn’t see Taylor hanging out on the farm for a moment longer than she had to.
“Something will come through and she’ll leave.” Jordan spoke as if Taylor’s departure was a done deal before reaching for the pitcher with his good hand. He topped off both of their glasses, then lifted his. “Here’s to all this going down sooner rather than later.”
Cole nodded and then drank deeply.
Let it be so.
TAYLOR LAY IN her narrow bed, wide awake, listening to wind blowing through the pine trees next to the bunkhouse and missing traffic noises. This was her reality—a run-down one-room building with an ancient plug-in electric heater to ward off the night’s chill. If that didn’t spur her on to find meaningful employment, nothing would. Meanwhile, Cole Bryan slept comfortably in a house fifty yards away, quite possibly in the bed she’d slept in as a kid, unless he’d taken over Karl’s room. Definitely in a bed that was a lot bigger than the one she was currently lying in. It ticked her off that he’d brought her the mattress from the cellar, but he had brought it and she decided that complaining would make it seem as if he’d won a round. He might have, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. She had a mattress, and that was the important thing.
You also have a roof over your head. And the hole under the sink is patched. No mice. Or bunnies.
It was amazing to think that these were things she was now grateful for. A roof. Patched flooring. So many things that she’d taken for granted as she was attempting to climb the corporate ranks.
Was she supposed to be learning some cosmic lesson from this?
What had she done to be put in a position where she had to learn a cosmic lesson? She’d donated to charity, volunteered, ran 5Ks for good causes. She’d never judged people…much. Okay, she’d judged a few of her colleagues, but that was from a purely professional standpoint.
Taylor rolled over and punched her pillow, trying to make it comfortable. She’d been surprised to
