“We doing this or what?” Baker asked, his exhaustion clear on his face.
“Yes, we are. Just going over Ford’s orderly notebook. You could learn a thing or two from him, Baker. Your papers look like someone went apeshit on them with a leaf blower after they crumpled them up and sat on them.”
“I never took secretary classes in high school,” Baker tossed out. “Can we get a move on? I have a group of birdwatchers in the High Winds Cabin that are looking forward to a twilight bird sighting ride with Hanley and me.”
“Well, who are we to keep folks from viewing whip-poor-wills and barred owls. Let’s get to it. Granny promised me a hot meal and a cold beer at the end of the day.” Aiden gave me a pat on the shoulder then strolled off, leaving me enjoying the sight of his ass in his overalls. They looked tighter than they should be, but I wasn’t going to complain.
Working with Aiden all day had been amazing and flustering, but mostly amazing.
3
Chapter Three
It was close to eleven at night when I snuck downstairs to paint.
The hum of a sewing machine as I neared the seamstress room—the old junk room—told me Bella was awake as well. I crept up to the door, sock-covered feet already chilly as this old farmhouse had cold floors even in the summer and opened it. Green eyes lifted from an orange sleeve being attached to a dress.
“You’re up late,” she softly said as I slipped inside, my sight darting to my new passion all waiting for me under an old sheet. Granny had given me a folding table for my metal cowboys. “Sheriff Rusty Britches calling your name?”
She liked to tease me a little. It was okay if Bella tormented me. She was my heart sister. I would do anything for her.
“Maybe,” I replied with a shrug and wiggled around her to sit at my table. When seated, my back was to hers. “That orange dress calling your name?”
“Silly man, it’s not orange. It’s yam.” The machine whirred along steadily then stopped.
“Aren’t yams orange?” I asked as I carefully lifted the sheet off my cowboys. Over five hundred old tin cowboys were lined up facing forward, a hundred per line, not counting the fifteen horses that had come with the collection. I’d placed three horses at the end of each line. It bugged me that the other end of the line was missing three horses. Dodge had told me we might be able to find some online but so far no luck. Stumbling on this large hoard of tin toys from the early 1900s had been a real miracle. An old farmer was selling his farm—sadly, a common thing now—and we’d gone to the auction. Baker had known the old man.
The ranch had picked up a hay tedder in good condition. Dodge had bid on the box of toys after seeing my interest in the little silver cowboys stuffed into an old sack. He’d paid more than I ever would have, but seeing they went for like eight bucks each online, his coughing up two hundred bucks was a good deal. I would pay him back as soon as I had money aside. Most of my pay was hidden in a sock in my dresser upstairs. Easy to grab on the run. I’d bought paints online from a toy shop in Oklahoma City, some brushes, and had set up in here with the sewers a month ago.
“No, yams are yam-colored,” she said over her shoulder. “I had an order from a lady on the city council for a fall dress to wear to the pumpkin festival next week. I’ve been putting it off because I hate the material she wanted. Spandex is Satan’s most beloved material. Right up there with chiffon.”
“I bet Satan looks good in chiffon,” I joked as I took the time to count each cowboy. Just to be sure they were all here. They were. “I think I’m going to start working on this gunslinger,” I announced then gently lifted him from slot forty on row two. Something about him just sang to me tonight. “He looks tough, don’t you think?”
I turned on my chair, a battered folding seat, to hold the tiny tin toy over her shoulder. The sewing machine paused as she glanced at the gunslinger. She’d just moisturized her face so her skin glowed in the light on the edge of her sewing table. Bella was the prettiest woman I had ever met, right down to her tiny toes, which were always painted.
“Oh my, yes, he is fearsome! Like that character in the western video game you played for so long.” She gave me a fast peek through long lashes then smiled.
“Red Dead Redemption,” I said and got a nod. “Best western game ever.”
“So you kept telling me.” We both returned our attention to our projects. I studied my gunslinger, trying to decide if he was a good gunslinger or a bad one. If he were good, he’d get a white hat. If bad, a black hat obviously. “You had a busy day today with Dr. Hennessee. He seemed to be quite attentive over dinner.”
I blinked at my tin sheriff. Yes, he would be a sheriff. I could paint a star on his chest. So a white hat. Like theLone Ranger. Granny loved those old westerns. I had sat down with her one night, and now I loved them too. EspeciallyBonanza,Gunsmoke, andThe Rifleman.
“He’s nice,” I mumbled and began searching through my tote of paints for white. They were all lined up in the small carrier with cardboard dividers to keep the primary colors from the tertiary colors. “Cute. Like really cute.” I felt that fizzy feeling start in my stomach just thinking of Aiden. “He asked me to come to his office tomorrow to look at his notes. He said he’s sloppy and needs help a few times a week.”
The old Singer slowed then stopped. I heard her chair creak as she wiggled around to sit sidesaddle behind me. The house was quiet. When the heater kicked on in the basement, it made a thudding sound and would blow stinky warm air around. Baker said he figured a mouse had gotten into the vents and died,which would account for the stink. It would go away in a few more days, the eldest Baker brother had assured us.
“So he wants you to come to the office in town?”
“Yep.” I found the white paint right off. “Tomorrow. He wants to show me around and meet Wendy. She works the desk. He’s nice. I like him. He doesn’t tell me I ramble on endlessly about dumb things. That’s the sign of a good man, right?”
“Yes, he’s very nice. Very glib. Very promiscuous if what Baker says is true.” I felt her gaze on the back of my neck.
“He sleeps around.”
“So they say,” she whispered before laying a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shake it off because I knew she was going to start badmouthing Aiden. So what if he slept with a lot of men? He was beautiful and funny and kind to animals. And wore overalls better than any other man I’d ever seen. “I know you have a crush on him.”
“I don’t. I just want to lie in his arms and kiss his jaw. Is that so bad?”
