“It’s fine.” She waves my apology aside, still squishing her behind into the corner of the wrap around bench. “Rand went through a tough phase a few years ago. He—We weren’t talking when I met you. He’s back to being his regular annoying self now.” Her laugh is normal, but a shadow flickers in her eyes that takes a long moment to dissipate.
“That’s not easy.” I toy with my drink. “I know you need to socialize, but I really do need to get work done, or I’ll be freeloading off you forever.”
“You’re not freeloading. And it’s been less than a month.” Winnie presses her lips together. I’m proud of her for holding back on whatever it is that she wants to deluge on me. We’ve been working on me speaking out and her filtering for real-life situations. I’m kinda proud of us both. “You’re just…in between things.”
My mug study could be my dissertation at this point. “I’ve beenin between thingsfor most of my twenty-seven years on this planet. The address on my license is my parent’s house, and that’s stood vacant since they passed. What adult lives like that?”
The guilt I’m supposed to feel doesn’t hit me. Disassociated, abnormal… I’ve heard it all from dates or friends who didn’t last. Everyone except Winnie. Because her family is at least as screwy as mine. Being tied to one location is a quick trip down nausea lane for me.
“Yeah, imagine all that junk mail.” Winnie’s attempt at a joke falls flat.
“Shit. I never thought about that.” I look up at her with wide eyes. “Hell, the box must be overflowing. Maybe they don’t deliver anymore.”
“We could always go and check.” Winnie waggles her eyebrows. “Road trip?”
“With a nine-year-old? The house is three states away.”
“A rare wolf might be discovered there.”
“Well, there’s that,” I agree, perking up.
“Are you two done gossiping?” My eyes widen as a deep voice—the same one that I’ve spent a solid seven nights fantasizing aboutand have attempted to banish—sends a thrill skating along my spine. It’s a sensation akin to a physical touch.
Winnie launches away from the kitchen bench and tackles her brother at waist height. Cord mutters an oath as he stumbles back a step beneath her compact weight. His arms remain stiff for a second before they fold around her. In the cluttered room, his much-taller frame shadows her smaller figure and pretty much everything else in the tight kitchen.
Hell, he has to duck just to get into the room.
I suck in a breath. This man turns my midnight fantasies into pithy watercolors. Arctic eyes sparkle at me over Winnie’s shoulder. A slow, devastating grin is aimed my way and turned up to a billion watts.
Cordell Rand is the poster boy for everything I should never want and can’t ever have. He has an empty homestead and needs a whole freakingfamilyjust to fill it. I sleep in bivouacs and move from place to place most weeks because restlessness keeps my feet from catching commitment. Nothing I’ve found in the last six years has stayed sticky.
I pretend not to watch the brother-and-sister reunion in front of me, but Cord’s presence is the undeniable, magnetic sort. It’s impossible not to understand exactly why the men who work for him stay at Coyote Falls, miles from anywhere. He’s got that energy, the sort that calls people to him, and I’m drawn into his addictive cowboy current for the short ride.
It means nothing. He’s probably got a girl in every small town from here to the Rockies.
But the empty homestead at Coyote Falls makes a liar of my adamant denial.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Winnie peppers him with questions, hanging off his wide shoulders while I flounder at the overloaded table.
Cord lingers in the small kitchen. Ice-blue eyes find mine and pierce right through me when I risk a glance his way. I shiver, though plenty of other places heat.
He’s not here for you.
I gather my sanity and scoot to the edge of my seat to make my escape as Cord detaches from Winnie, pushing an overflowing bag into her hands.
“Sally’s version of packing. I thought she might need some of this.” He hesitates, his tone hardening. “Your front door was unlocked.”
I risk a second glance back at him while his attention is diverted elsewhere and try not to stare, but the man looks as good clothed as he did half-naked the week before. It’s like Hollywood misplaced a cowboy for a casting. Broad shoulders hint at the strength that lies beneath his shirt, straining the fine cotton at his biceps. His short hair is neatly finished in a no-fuss cut close to his scalp, his skin darker in some places than others, that chiseled jawline etched with five o’clock shadow.
“Fusspot.” Winnie delves inside the bag her brother hands her. When she looks up, something unspoken passes between them. She breaks eye contact first, returning to rifle through Sally’s belongings. “Thanks for driving this out. She’ll be glad to have her things back,” she mutters, not looking up as she shuffles around Cord. “I’ll put these in her room. Thanks.”
I frown after Winnie. “What’s that all about?” I slap a hand over my mouth. “Not my business.”
Rather than taking offense at my nosy-as-all-get-out nature, Cord grins. “You looked after my niece. I’d say it’s definitely your business. I get a few things for Sally each time I bring back whatever she forgot to bring home. I’d help out more if Winnie would let me.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
For him, it might be. For Winnie? Not so much.
“Mmm. She doesn’t take charity from anyone. Gifts make her uncomfortable, as though it takes away from the hours she works or her independence that she’s garnered after Br—the asshole. Trust me. I’ve tried to pay her for pretty much anything and I can’t.” I nibble my lip, the thought of not paying my own way still sitting strangely on my shoulders. I blow the bout of discomfort away in asharp breath and force a grin. “Coffee? We have instant.” I gesture to the kettle on the stovetop.
