“Sounds like you spend a lot of time taking care of everyone else. Who takes care of you?”
Her eyes harden.
Fuck, I hit a nerve there.
“I take care of myself just fine,” she says. “And if you truly don’t believe I’m capable of that, then why are you having me take care of your precious little boy?”
“Just because you’re good at taking caring of everyone elsedoesn’t mean you’re good at taking care of yourself. In my experience, the people who are good at the first thing are often terrible at the second thing.”
Those blue eyes stare into mine, not cowed for a second. “Just because you saw me in my underwear doesn’t mean you know a thing about what’s going on inside me, Walker.”
It’s the first time she’s said my name. I like the sound of it on her lips way too much.
“Funny,” I tell her. “Because if what I said wasn’t true, you wouldn’t be looking so cornered right now.” I make my way out of the room slowly. “I’ll back off, copperhead. Save your venom for someone you can sink your teeth into.”
I don't know why I said it like that. Like it was an endearment.
I make my way out of the room. Leaving her to get settled in, I head downstairs. I put on a pot of coffee, enough for two people, and fill up my thermos.
I should leave now. I never linger at home when Jonah’s not here. It feels too empty. I built this house small on purpose, because I grew to hate that giant fucking mansion my ex insisted on when we got married. Isabella is a billionaire’s daughter and she expected a particular lifestyle. One I learned to fucking despise.
In Nashville, there was a security team that had to go everywhere with me. There was a private chef and an entourage and people on my payroll just hanging around all the time. I hated it. Hated all the bullshit that was turning me into a pampered fucking poodle.
Here I’ve got a normal family home. I cook my own meals for me and my son and my security team is the revolver on my hip.
Last time the paparazzi tried to follow me to Montana, one of the idiots got too close to a bison and got himself mauled.
The paps don’t come around here anymore.
Marble Falls is a small town. Some tourists, but not enough to overrun the place. No one bothers me. But when I’m alone in this house I built, so much smaller and more homey than the one before, it still feels like too much.
It still feels like something’s missing.
But Sadie's upstairs now. I can hear her moving around. Opening and closing dresser drawers, her soft footsteps, the small sounds of someone settling in.
Every instinct I have says: good. She's here. She's safe. She's getting comfortable.
She’s got a smart mouth and spine of steel and she might drive me crazy, but my instincts tell me bringing her here was the right thing to do. My son adores her. My father is fond of her. She’s young, but she looks after her sick mom and is great with kids and everyone I’ve talked to about her seems to think she has a heart of gold.
Which is probably exactly why she and I don’t get along.
If I could bring myself to pick up my guitar, I could probably write some miserable and self-pitying ballad about what little is left of my heart.
Good thing I can't pick up that fucking guitar, then. At least I’m sparing the world of that drivel.
I take a sip of my bitter coffee as I hear her coming down the stairs again.
“I'm heading out,” I tell her, not looking up from where I'm checking the weather report on my phone. There's a summer storm brewing later this week, and I need to ride the fence line before it hits.
Two years ago I'd have been heading to a recording studio or a private jet on tour. Now I head out to check cattle and mend fences, and I've never been more at peace with anything in my life.
“There’s fresh coffee in the pot,” I continue. “You need something, you've got my number.”
“Wait,” she says, approaching me. “Where's your bedroom?”
I was about to take another drink of coffee, but the hand holding my thermos freezes halfway to my mouth. Slowly, I set my phone face-down on the counter. I raise an eyebrow.
Her cheeks turn bright pink. “I mean, in case I need to find you here at home, if there's an emergency.”
