While he heals. Whatever that’s supposed to look like, and for however long, which could be a lifetime. Because the doc said that, too.
“You’re making far too much sense for three in the morning.” She passes over her wineglass, which is a lot less full than when I first arrived in the living area.
I take a small sip and pass it back, wrinkling my nose. “Is it that late? Or early? We should be quiet. West might get grumpy if we wake him an hour early.”
“West is already up, dressed, and has been listening to you two gossip for the last fifteen minutes. Some of us actually have work to do.” West pats the sofa behind Winnie, who lets out a scream that she muffles with her fist.
West never stops watching her.
Her head tips back. “I like a hardworking man, but I hate morning people. You’re shit outta luck with me, cowboy.”
West laughs, gray eyes hooded as he stares down at her. “You never had a chance, Rand.”
“I’m a Hamilton,” she retorts, though I know she hates that name.
“Oh, hell, no. You’ve got Rand written all over you.” One corner of his mouth curls in a knowing smirk, and I swear the air in the room stills. Not just between them, but everywhere.
The termthird wheelhas never been more painful.
I sink in my seat, hiding in plain sight in the crappiest strategy ever. The motion alerts them both. Winnie fusses with her blanket, tossing her short hair, though she watches the foreman turn away from her, little more than a stocky shadow in the darkened room.
“Keep watching, Rand,” he mutters softly.
Winnie sticks her tongue out at him and reaches for her wine.
West scuffs about in the kitchen, gathering his breakfast and a thermos of coffee, and then heads down the hall to the front of the homestead. “Good night, ladies.”
I cover my mouth as the door closes softly behind him. Tiny giggles escape my finger cage.
Winnie sighs.
“What about Hottie McNurse?” I ask now that West is out of earshot.
Winnie plants her feet on the coffee table. “I can have an office affair.”
“If you worked in one,” I retort.
“Maybe a cowboy could be a good side lover,” she muses. “Tight ass. Good thrusting talents, and all.”
“I can still hear you, ladies,” West calls from the veranda.
I suppress a fresh batch of giggles beneath a throw pillow.
“That was interesting.” Winnie thrusts the empty wineglass into my hand, displaying her own skills. “I’m getting the bottle.”
Feet that aren’t mine prop on my lap as I stare at my computer screen, intent on burning my retinas from my eyeballs. For whatever reason, it can’t deal with the change in degrees of light from the rising sun over my shoulder, and Coyote Falls doesn’t have a whole lot of curtains. Why would the homestead require privacy? After all, no one else is out here to see us apart from a handful of cows and West’s silhouette as he wanders past on occasion.
Usually, his presence is calming. Right now, when I’m about to do something I feel like I shouldn’t, I’m in camouflage mode.Cowmaflage.I hiccup a laugh that dies a stuttering death as his shadow turns toward me, as though heknows. I slam my finger over the brightness bar on my laptop, sending the screen into sleep mode, and fake my own rest. Winnie’s foot twitches. I give it a little tap. She stills and the homestead is quiet, apart from Cord’s faint snores back at his end of the wing, where he still sleeps on without me.
That’s a good thing.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, but I don’t have time for this right now. West has turned away when I peek through mylashes and wake my screen, staring at the email with the grant offer that I told Cord I turned down weeks ago.
I lied.
In my head I canceled everything. My trip to Alaska, my research. Because back then his health came first. Everything about Cord took precedence. I always intended to do exactly what I said, I just…never got around to it.
And now that email with its tempting offer stares at me.
