“So, how’s the shop going? Any new orders this week?”
Sawyer was sweet, completely missing the sniping between me and his cougar girlfriend. I was warring with feeling sorry for him and wishing a good bonk over the head would solve all my issues.
“Just the usual, but I am thinking of selling olive oil in my shop instead of approaching Max.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Sawyer beamed. “You really do make the best olive oil.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” I laughed. “But you’re my brother. You have to say things like that.”
Scarlet cleared her throat, obviously about to say something to dampen the mood. “Not to butt in, but you make your own olive oil?”
“Yep!”
“Well, don’t you need a special license to do that? Or do people in this town really trust you to just…throw something together in your kitchen?”
I was about to say something really snarky when my brother reached across the table and took her hand, instantly drawing her attention away from me.
I ignored whatever he was about to say and shoved the last of my rice and beans in my mouth. Now, if she said something to me, there was no possible way I could answer her.
Luckily, they got off on some other subject before Scarlet excused herself, saying she needed to make a call.
And not a single bite of her food had been touched.
“Well, I take it she didn’t like my cooking.”
“She will,” Sawyer beamed. “She had a long day. It was a hard move for her. Just give her time.”
I’d give her time, alright. Just enough to come to the decision that this town definitely wasn’t for her.
And then I’d give her a boot on the way out.
17
JR
With the barclosing down early during the week, I generally got a few more hours of sleep than on the weekend, which meant I wasn’t so cranky when I headed out to Murky Falls Ranch in the morning.
The double shifts were tiring, but it was good for me. I hated sitting around that damn house with nothing to do, aside from thinking about my neighbor and wondering what she was up to.
Not that I did that often. It was just something that happened to cross my mind from time to time.
My headlights illuminated Josie’s car as I pulled into my drive, and what I saw confused the hell out of me. Getting out, I stomped over to her vehicle and eyed the woman slumped against the window. A small fog circled her mouth from where her breath fanned out every few seconds.
Rapping on the window, she jumped, rubbing her face where it had been smooshed against the glass. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes before rolling down the window.
“What?” she whined.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping,” she muttered, cranking the heat higher in her car.
I glanced at her house, then back at her. “See, a car is for general modes of transportation. A house,” I said, pointing to the one right in front of her, “is where a person goes to eat, sleep, hang out…I know you’re aware of these things. You’ve done them before. I’ve seen you.”
“Yeah, well…my brother brought home some red-haired cougar, and they’ve been going at it all night. I thought the walls were going to fall down.”
I almost walked away. After all, it was none of my business where she slept. However, it was the middle of the night, and she was sleeping in her car. She was wasting gas.
That’s what I told myself.
