“I hope so.” I’d barely met the man, but I’d liked him and Colby both.
We waded through six wet white inches to the main house, where I reluctantly gave Seth his sweatpants back and pulled on my jeans, shouldering the clean laundry bag. Then Seth led the way to the third cabin down. He dug out keys, and as soon as he unlocked the door, Patch and Ramble came bounding over to say hello.
Seth went to one knee on the doorstep to rub their furry chests. “Yes, I’m glad to see you, too. All your favorite people are out of town, so you’re down to just me, but better than being trapped alone. Come on.”
“What do you mean,justyou?” I asked as we forged our way back to Seth’s place. “You’re awesome.”
“Never been anyone’s first choice,” he said, like that was a normal thought.
“How about Miguel’s?” Jealousy made me poke at that idea.
“Second, after the horses.”
“You’re kidding.”
“We weren’t serious. Not really.” Seth opened his door and urged the dogs inside. “Miguel liked a good time, and he liked me, but he loved the horses. He tolerated the cattle for the sake of getting to ride. As soon as someone offered him a job on a horse spread, I knew he’d be gone.”
I followed Seth in and joined him taking off snow-encrusted boots. “You didn’t want to go with him?”
Seth’s expression shut down to stone cold. “Wasn’t asked.”
There was clearly a sore spot lurking, to do with Miguel. Whether that was being left behind, or still pining for him, or what, I didn’t know and didn’t want to pry. No, that was a lie. I wanted to understand everything about Seth, but I already knew better than to push. I shook snow off my parka on the mat, hung it up, and dropped the laundry bag on the couch.
Seth put down a big bowl of water for the dogs in his corner kitchen and opened the fridge. “Hungry? I’ve worked up an appetite again.”
“I could eat.” I smirked at him.
I saw him stutter, his hand jolting on the door, before he cleared his throat and told me, “I have some leftover meatloaf and gravy.”
“Not going to say no.”
“Let me put plates in the microwave.”
The dogs pushed past me to Seth’s side, paws dancing on the narrow tile floor as they peered up at him.
“You think they need to be fed, or did Davis likely do it before he left?” I asked.
“They’re greedy. I’m sure he fed them.” Seth cut thick slabs of meatloaf for us. “Toast?”
“Sure. Uh.” Ramble came over and nudged me, his nose cold against my hand. “You think maybe Davis forgot? They look hungry.” I petted the dog’s soft ears and thick ruff.
“I think they know a sucker when they see one.” Seth sighed. “All right, a few bites.” He crumbled a little of the leftover slice onto two saucers and set them down against the wall. Happy slurping followed.
I leaned against the door and watched. There was this hot cowboy sharing space with me, looking tired and disheveled but happy after a long day; two friendly dogs licking the last ketchup topping off each other’s faces; a snug warm cabin with the snow outside.I want this. Someday.I reminded myself I had a week, which was a hell of a lot better than nothing. “Do you have a video feed from the barn? Should we check up on Ebony?”
“Yeah, Kendrick hooked all the cabins into the network when they were built.” Seth set his laptop on the kitchen table and opened the lid. “Let me check. Crap, still no internet. Local is working, though. Here.” He tapped a few times, and the stall video came up with Ebony on her feet while Olive slept in the straw. “All good.”
We sat down to meatloaf and toast, and I’d never had a better Thanksgiving, not even when Mom used to make turkey and all the fixings. Of course, that was partly because Dad would always find something wrong that was her fault. Turkey too dry, cranberry sauce too sweet, beans not tender, hell, beer not beery enough. It was just an excuse to bully her—
I pushed the memories away and focused on the food in front of me. “This is great. You cook too, cowboy?”
“Me? Nope. That toast with butter?” He pointed at my plate with his fork. “That’s me cooking. The meatloaf is all Davis. He makes extras, gives them to us to take home so we can eat well on our days off if we don’t want to trek up to the house.”
“Well, five stars to Davis.” I wolfed down the last bite. “And this is five-star toast, too.”
Seth laughed, tipping his head back. I noted the stubbled column of his neck, the curve of his mouth, and was glad I had my lower half under the table. He was hot as hell, just my type.
His gaze met mine and he stopped laughing abruptly, grabbed his plate, and stood. “You done, or you want more five-star toast?”
