Читать книгу A Tall, Dark Cowboy Christmas - Maisey Yates - Страница 11
ОглавлениеMCKENNA EMERGED FROM the cabin a few hours later feeling strangely numb. Like she might be wandering through an alternate dimension and wasn’t quite connected to her body. The cabin was so cute and neat, and she had felt weird putting her old, threadbare clothes away in the solid wood chest of drawers. Like they might dissolve the pretty cedar.
She wished that she had something warmer than what she was wearing, but her spare few items were what they were. And only what she could fit into a backpack.
A free promo phone she got on a pay-as-you-go plan, pajamas, two pairs of pants, two shirts, one pair of boots, some scattered and nearly used-up toiletries.
There were no warmer clothes in her possession at all. So she went ahead and braved the chilly afternoon, which didn’t seem like it was going to thaw at all, judging by the textured gray of the sky.
She followed Grant’s instructions and found the cleaning materials, then went to the first cabin and knocked. No one answered so she used the code he had provided for her to get inside. It was laid out similarly to her cabin, and she found cleaning it was a lot more fun than cleaning usually was. Mostly because she was used to cleaning whatever terrible apartment she lived in, or gross hotel rooms that were never going to lose the general film of seedy filth no matter how much elbow grease McKenna applied.
She moved through the row of cabins quickly and easily, feeling strangely accomplished by the end.
She was also hungry again. It had been hours since breakfast, and she had been running on empty, anyway. Of course, breakfast had been better than anything she’d had in a couple of months, so she would have thought it might sustain her. But no. It had just reminded her what it was like to have a full stomach. And now she wanted one again.
She wandered outside, wondering if it would be all right for her to go to the mess hall. Grant had mentioned that the ranch hands ate there during off-hours, and she wondered if two o’clock constituted off-hours.
She decided she was going to chance it, because she was really hungry.
She opened the door cautiously, peeking around before stepping inside.
The coffee station was still set up, and she decided that whatever there was to eat she was going to have caffeine with it.
There didn’t seem to be anyone around, so she went to the kitchen and helped herself to a bowl of soup, taking it out to the tables and sitting next to the window, bathing herself in the anemic light that was trying to get through the cloud cover. She felt warm. Warm and...safe.
She hadn’t really been aware of feeling like she was in danger, but that was partly because there had been nothing for her to do but soldier through. But now, now that she had a little bit of respite from the truly horrendous situation she’d found herself in, she could fully acknowledge how awful it had been.
She blinked, her eyes stinging slightly. She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t do that. At least, not without a reason. Tears could be useful. They could soften your look, make people feel sorry for you.
Tears, on a personal level, were pointless.
Her thoughts drifted back to her tour guide. Grant Dodge.
Just thinking his name made her stomach tighten a little bit. And that was stupid. He was handsome. But she’d quit caring about how handsome a man was quite a while ago. Handsome didn’t mean anything.
The door to the mess hall opened and McKenna jumped, every reflex inside of her getting ready to run if she had to. Like she was in here stealing soup, instead of eating like Grant had said she could. But she felt like an outlier. An interloper.
It was her default setting, and it was difficult to just turn it off at a moment’s notice.
The woman who walked through the front door had wild, carrot-colored curls, and pink, wind-chapped cheeks. Her smile was cheery and friendly, and McKenna was taken off guard when it was immediately aimed at her. “Hi,” she said. “Are you one of the guests?”
“No,” McKenna said, reflexively wrapping her hands around her soup bowl and pulling it closer to her. “I work here.”
“Oh,” she said. “I work with Bennett Dodge. At his veterinary clinic.”
“Oh,” McKenna said. She had no idea that Bennett Dodge worked at a veterinary clinic. She could only assume that he was one of the brothers Grant had talked about. She didn’t like being caught off guard, and she didn’t like looking ignorant, so she chose not to ask any follow-up questions.
“I’m Beatrix,” she said. “Beatrix Leighton. I’m also Lindy’s sister-in-law. Well. I’m her ex-sister-in-law. She used to be married to my brother. But now she’s married to Wyatt.”
“That seems complicated,” McKenna said, somewhat interested against her will.
“Not really,” Beatrix said. “My brother was a terrible husband. And I love Lindy, and all I want is for her to be happy. Damien didn’t make her happy. Wyatt does. That’s about as simple as it gets.”
“I guess so.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About twenty minutes,” McKenna said, lifting another spoonful of soup to her lips.
Beatrix laughed and walked over to the coffee station. “No. I meant at the ranch.”
McKenna laughed. “Not much longer than that. I got here this morning.”
“Wow,” Beatrix said, filling up a coffee mug and, much to McKenna’s chagrin, taking a seat at the table across from her. “Where you from?”
“Out of town,” McKenna said.
“Okay. How did you find out about the ranch?”
“Oh, I kind of... Stumbled upon it.”
“I think you’ll like it here. They’re all great.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” From a total stranger. But McKenna wasn’t going to say that, because she was going to do her best not to alienate anyone in this place. It was warm, it was dry, there was food and coffee. While she planned her next move, there was no better place she could be. She had gone and stumbled into some kind of Hallmark Christmas movie, and she wasn’t going to question it. She was just going to accept the hospitality while she figured out how she was going to approach the Daltons.
She needed an idea that was a little bit better than wandering onto the property and announcing that she was a secret half sister.
If all else failed, she would definitely do that. But she was going to try to come up with something a little more sophisticated first.
“Have you met Jamie yet?” her chatty new friend pressed.
“No,” McKenna said.
“She’s the sister. The only sister. She’s one of my best friends. I’m here because we’re going to go riding. You can come along.”
McKenna shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you. But I have to keep working.” She also had no idea how to ride horses. She wasn’t sure she had ever been within thirty feet of one.
“Some other time,” Beatrix said. “Jamie is a great guide. That’s what she does here.”
For a moment, McKenna let herself wonder about the kind of alternate reality that might have existed where she could have... Lived on a ranch and ridden horses for a living. This whole place seemed like a sanctuary of some kind. And the whole family was just... Here. Not moving around. Not wondering where they might stay next. Not waiting for the other shoe to drop, or worrying about what might happen if a sour relationship went so sour that they had to leave it, and lose the roof over their head.
“Sure,” McKenna said, but there was basically no way in hell.
Still, she didn’t want to say that. She wasn’t sure why.
But this was such a strange, easy connection made with someone who wasn’t afraid to smile at her, and didn’t seem to want anything from her. Those kinds of connections were few and far between. McKenna wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever had an experience quite like it. So the last thing she was going to do was ruin it by being unfriendly.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around. I come by quite a bit.”
“Okay,” she said, “see you around.”
Beatrix stood, taking her coffee with her, offering a cheerful wave as she walked out the door, leaving McKenna alone with her soup.
“What the hell is this place?” she asked the empty room, obviously not expecting an answer.
She finished her soup and stood up, walking back to the kitchen. Right then, the back door opened, and Grant came in. She froze, her empty soup bowl in hand, as she stared at him for a moment, then blinked and looked away. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he returned, his voice gruff.
“I was just having lunch.”
“Good,” he said.
“Do I just...wash the bowl... Or...?”
His face remained immovable, taciturn, but he reached out and took the bowl from her hand, walking over to the sink. It was one of those large, commercial sinks with a detachable nozzle right on the spout. She wasn’t sure what they were called. Because she had certainly never lived in a place nice enough to have a kitchen that would have one. He set the bowl and spoon down in the sink, and then he did something truly unexpected. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and turned the water on.
She just stood and watched while he filled the sink partway up with water, adding a little bit of soap. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, one dark brow lifting slightly as he did. He didn’t say anything.
So she just watched him.
His movements were direct. He didn’t waste any, she noticed. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. His profile was strong, his jaw square. The dark whiskers that covered it only enhancing that sense of masculinity.
Her eyes dropped down to his forearms. They were strong, the muscles there shifting and flexing as he moved. She imagined he lifted objects over fifty pounds often. At least, his physique seemed to suggest that he did.
“Thank you,” she said, because she realized it was weird that she was standing there staring at him, and neither of them were saying anything.
“Not a problem,” he said.
“I could wash the bowl,” she said.
“Yeah, but I would’ve had to show you how it all worked. So I might as well do it. Anyway, you can learn for next time.”
“I’ll owe you. Next time you eat soup, I’ve got the bowls.”
“Much obliged,” he said, nodding his head.
Normally, she would have said that cowboy hats were cheesy, and in no way hot. But the way that he nodded just then, that black hat on his head... He was like some weird country-boy fantasy she’d never realized she had.
You’re not going to make a fantasy out of the nice guy cleaning your dishes. You don’t need guy trouble and you know that. Men are terrible dead ends with muscles, and that’s all. Just make the most of this living situation and don’t screw it up.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t look at him. Looking didn’t mean doing anything. So there.
She wasn’t sure when she had gone from thinking of him as a grumpy asshole to thinking of him as a nice guy. But she supposed the two weren’t actually mutually exclusive. He was grumpy; there was no denying that. Even now that he was doing something nice for her, he hadn’t spared her a smile. Maybe nice was the wrong word.
Good.
He seemed like one of those mythical good men that she hadn’t ever really been convinced existed.
Even the long-lost father that she wanted to meet couldn’t actually be that good of a man. He had knocked her mother up and left her alone. He had a whole family, which she certainly wasn’t part of. And sure, maybe he didn’t know about her. But still, a guy running around indiscriminately spreading his seed was hardly going to go into the good man category.
There was something about Grant that just seemed good.
Of course, she was a terrible judge of character. Or maybe she couldn’t be much of a judge at all, because she tended to need to ally herself with whoever was willing. That meant sometimes putting blinders on out of necessity.
McKenna was very good with necessity.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I might even wash two soup bowls for you.”
“I couldn’t begin to accept such generosity.”
“I’m very generous,” she said, a smile touching her lips.
Grant didn’t smile at all. She studied his eyes, kind of a dark green that reminded her of the trees that surrounded the property, trying to find a hint of humor. A glimmer of something. The man was unreadable.
“I have some work to do,” he said. “Need to get lunch and then get out.”
He was dismissing her. Which was fine. She didn’t care. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. I cleaned all of the cabins.”
“Why don’t you get some rest? Come back in here at dinnertime and get something to eat. You can worry about doing a full day tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
The door to the kitchen opened, and Wyatt came in. “Hey,” he said, greeting her first, then nodding at his brother. “How’s the day going?”
“Fine,” McKenna returned.
“Good. Hey, we’re all going out to the bar in town tonight. Do you want to come?”
She was blindsided by that question. She blinked, not quite able to process the fact that her new boss had just invited her out for drinks. And suddenly, she wanted to crawl out of her skin. “Thank you,” she said, edging toward the door. “But I think I’m going to... Just rest. It’s been... It’s been a hell of a few weeks.”
“Is there anything we can help with?” Wyatt looked genuinely concerned. Grant’s expression was like a wall of granite.
“You’re helping enough. Giving me a place to stay is more than I...” Her throat tightened, and she did her best to speak around it. “Anyway. Thanks for inviting me. I’ll—”
“Grant will meet you in here tomorrow,” Wyatt said. “Breakfast time. We’re a bunch of early risers.”
“Six a.m.,” Grant said, those unfathomable green eyes settling on her. “Don’t be late.”
McKenna nodded, and backed out the door, tripping down the path and heading toward her cabin. Her cabin.
A wave of emotion swelled up in her chest. Less than twenty-four hours ago she had been curled up on the cold, damp floor of an abandoned structure out in the middle of the woods and now she had... People talking to her. People offering to help her.
A group of people inviting her out for drinks.
When she’d been younger she had something of a social group, but the last couple of years...
Everything had been so grim and stripped back, and she wasn’t sure she had even fully realized it until... Well, until she had been in Grant’s truck this morning accepting the fact that she was homeless, and without very many options.
She entered the code to her cabin, pushed open the door and shut it, leaning against it for a moment. She let her head fall back, closing her eyes. It was completely quiet. Nothing but the sound of furniture settling over the hardwood floors.
She pushed off from the door and walked down the hall toward the bathroom, stripping her clothes off as she went. She turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. Then she got inside and stood beneath the spray. She let the hot water roll over her face. Something inside of her chest cracked. Everything felt too big to be contained. She kept her face tilted up, steadfastly refusing to find out if there were tears running down her cheeks, or if it was just the shower.
It made her feel better to blame the shower. So she would leave it at that.
And tomorrow she would report for work at 6:00 a.m. By then, hopefully, she would be done with all this emotional crap.
When she got out of the shower she changed into her pajamas—something she hadn’t done since going on the road, because pajamas didn’t feel like the kind of clothes you could make a quick getaway in—and crawled into bed.
She felt that same wave of emotion begin to build inside her again. She closed her eyes. It was early, way too early to be getting into bed. But she was exhausted. Drained.
And for the first time in a very long time, McKenna Tate closed her eyes and let herself fall all the way asleep.
* * *
GRANT LEANED BACK in his chair and surveyed the surroundings. People were filtering into the Gold Valley saloon in large numbers, the end-of-workday crowd eager to get that first drink into their systems. Anything to begin that relaxation process after a day spent at the desk. He could remember that well.
His work didn’t stress him out now. He drank for other reasons.
It surprised him how relieved he was that McKenna had not taken his brother’s invitation to join them tonight. She made him feel tense. On a good day he might try to make excuses as to why that might be. Lie to himself a little bit. But today wasn’t an especially good day. He couldn’t pretend it was a mystery why.
She was beautiful. She was a woman. He wasn’t accustomed to being in proximity to a woman he found not just pretty but attractive.
Beatrix Leighton was around all the time, particularly now that she had started work at Bennett’s veterinary clinic, and had made fast friends with Jamie. She was cute, and he recognized that. But he wasn’t attracted to her. When Lindy had started coming around to the property when she and Wyatt were working on their joint venture between the winery and ranch, before the two of them had gotten together, he had known she was pretty. Closer to his age than Bea, and closer to his type—assuming he had a type—and still, she hadn’t made his skin feel too tight.
His younger brother Bennett, and Bennett’s wife, Kaylee, walked over to the table and took a seat next to and across from Grant. Kaylee was holding a bottle of beer, and Bennett had a glass of whiskey in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other. He slid the whiskey over to Grant.
“Thanks,” Grant said.
“You’re welcome,” Bennett said, lifting his beer bottle.
Wyatt and Lindy were on their way, and apparently, Bea and Jamie would be joining them, too. It was a little bit more social than Grant was in the mood for. But he was already here. And he had whiskey, so it was fine.
He found that most social situations could be easily navigated with an alcoholic drink that he pretended required a lot of concentration. Everyone else would pick up any and all slack in the conversation and he could just sit there and drink.
“Anything new at the ranch?” Bennett asked.
“No,” he said, because he didn’t want to have a conversation about McKenna. Besides, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt pressed to keep Bennett apprised of new hires at Get Out of Dodge.
He wasn’t even sure why McKenna came to mind just then.
“I’ll be around to put in a workday this weekend.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Grant said. “You’re busy.”
“Wyatt said there was some big fencing project. Dallas wants the payday,” Bennett said, smiling at the mention of his teenage son. “I figured I would go and make him spend quality time with me while he earns his paycheck.”
“I’m sure he’ll enjoy that,” Grant said.
Bennett had only discovered he had a son a little over a year ago. It had been a big adjustment for both Bennett and for Dallas. For the whole family, really. Bennett was the first one to have a kid, and he had showed up a teenager. Only good had come from it, though. Bennett was a great dad, and Dallas was flourishing living in Gold Valley. Plus, something about the change, whether it was the pressure of the whole event or what, had finally pushed Bennett and his best friend, Kaylee, into becoming more. It had been obvious to Grant that they should have been from the beginning. But he didn’t stick his face into people’s love lives.
Mostly, because his own was currently nonexistent. And then also because the one he’d had wasn’t anything like anyone else’s. And also wasn’t anything most people would aspire to.
“He’s mostly okay with me,” Bennett said.
“And he’s not having any girls back at the house while you and Kaylee are out?” Grant asked.
Kaylee shot Bennett a look out of the corner of her eye. “Hopefully not.”
“Dallas had a pretty rough upbringing,” Bennett said. “And I’m well aware he’s had a lot more... Experience at his age than I would like. But then, he’s also my walking, talking cautionary tale about what happens when you mess around at sixteen. So, hopefully he’ll just remember that.”
Kaylee laughed. “Yeah. Because the threat of consequences keeps teenagers from having sex.”
Grant didn’t know how to respond to that at all, so he just lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips while his brother groaned. The idea that his sixteen-year-old nephew was having sex while Grant...
Life was not fair.
Of course, he’d made his choices.
He wanted to make some different ones. But that was the problem. He didn’t know how. And at thirty-four, the conversation that he would have to have with his partner was...
It was just layers of complicated and hard and he honestly couldn’t figure out how to navigate it right now.
But then he thought of McKenna. Her brown eyes, and that soft-looking skin. Her lips.
She was managing to take over his bar time without actually being here.
“I did tell him that I was not helping him out if any angry dads came onto our properties with shotguns. He’s on his own.”
“That’s just mean,” Kaylee said. “I bet your dad defended you from a few shotgun-wielding parents.”
“I didn’t get caught,” Bennett said.
Grant took another drink. Their upbringing had been... Not so great. Bennett had been six when their mother had died. Grant had been ten. Their father was a good enough dad, but he had been fully emotionally unavailable after that had happened. Jamie had been a newborn, and their dad had been consumed with trying to parent her. Grant couldn’t blame him for that. They’d all reacted to it in different ways. Wyatt had taken his anger and channeled all of it toward their father. They had a big dustup involving their dad’s fiancée when Wyatt had been seventeen, and Wyatt had left home for years after that. Bennett had been the good one, but had been blowing off steam with sex obviously. He’d just been doing all his misbehaving under the radar.
Grant?
Grant had turned into a monster. He’d been so angry, and he hadn’t known what the hell to do with it. He hadn’t brought it home. Hadn’t brought it to his father. No. He bled it all over everyone else. By the time he’d gotten into high school he’d been the biggest asshole bully. Nothing made him angrier than happy kids with happy lives, and he’d gone out of his way to add a little misery to their existence.
The only thing he’d hated more than them was what he’d turned into. But he hadn’t known how to be any different. He didn’t talk to his brothers. He didn’t have friends. When he walked by people in the halls they cowered. And for good reason. He’d been known to shove kids straight into the wall. A quick, satisfying outlet for the rage that burned just beneath his skin.
He’d been failing every class. More than that, he’d been failing at being a person.
He’d spent a lot of time in detention, but he didn’t much care. Home. School. It didn’t matter. He didn’t feel any different wherever he went.
He could still remember, so clearly, being seventeen years old and walking into the school library and seeing her.
Blonde and beautiful with blue eyes. She’d smiled at him, and he... He’d felt it. He hadn’t been able to remember a time when he’d felt anything other than anger.
She talked to him. Like he wasn’t scary. And she’d offered to tutor him.
And he didn’t know why in the hell, to this day, he’d taken her up on it.
Except that his life had been so damned bleak he’d thought, Why the hell not?
She’d been so nice to him. Unfailingly. And that hungry, desperate part of him had fallen for her hard and fast.
You don’t have to be this way, you know. I know you’re a good guy, Grant. You’re just angry. I can understand that. I feel angry, too, sometimes.
He swallowed hard, the memory washing over him, blotting out the scene around him.
It was one of his favorite places in Gold Valley. A little out-of-the-way place just off a dirt road that wound up the mountains, right by a small creek. It was where he went when everything at school and home felt like too much.
The sunlight filtered through the trees, making Lindsay’s hair look like it was spun from gold. Like there was a halo over her head.
He’d never felt the way he did for her about anyone. Like he wanted to protect her. Keep her safe forever.
Before Lindsay, he’d only ever wanted to destroy things.
He hadn’t touched her. She was sweet. Too sweet for a guy like him.
“You get angry?” He looked at beautiful Lindsay, with her bright eyes and hopeful expression. He couldn’t imagine her being angry.
She nodded slowly. “Yes. Don’t you know I wasn’t in school last year?”
He shook his head. “No. Weren’t you guys out of town or—”
“I had cancer, Grant. I could get it again.” Her blue eyes locked with his. “That’s always a possibility. I need you to know that. I know it. It scares me. It makes me angry.”
He didn’t know what possessed him, all he knew was that he wasn’t able to make another choice. He gripped her chin and closed the distance between them, kissing her on the lips.
He blinked, finding himself back in the present. He’d been so careful with her. Because she was sweet and delicate. Because she thought he was good. Sometimes he regretted just how careful he’d been. When the cancer came back, her prognosis wasn’t good. They’d gotten married as quickly as possible. Always thinking it would go away. Always hoping. Even though, deep down, he’d known.
They’d both known. Her life wasn’t going to be long; there was no way it could be, barring a miracle. But he’d imagined that they could have something. Maybe not the kind of marriage everyone else had, but something like it.
They’d never had normal. But they’d had something pretty damned precious. In the end, being with Lindsay had changed him profoundly.
Without her... The path he had been on only ended a couple of ways. Dead young or in jail. She had saved him. And whatever he had or didn’t have now, whatever he hadn’t done...
He couldn’t regret the choices he’d made.
So, if his sixteen-year-old nephew was getting play, he had to ask himself at what point he was going to start figuring out how to live some kind of normal life.
He’d tried. Once.
He’d driven to a neighboring town and gone to a bar. He hadn’t even gotten past saying hi. The damned woman had recognized him. He was that famous guy who’d married his terminally ill high school sweetheart even knowing their life together would be short. She’d given him the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, and he’d been sure he could have gotten pity sex.
That was when he realized he didn’t want pity sex.
That had been two years ago. Two years since he’d last tried to go out and get some and had stopped himself on some kind of principle. Right about now, he was starting to think that maybe he would take pity sex.
A hot kick to his gut told him that wasn’t true. Not by a long shot.
He didn’t just want any sex. That was the thing. If he did, there were a bunch of ways to get it.
He was a man who didn’t want an emotional connection, at all, yet was unable to stomach the idea of an anonymous hookup.
He’d had enough emotional connections to last him from here to forever. He’d had an emotional connection with a woman for eight years. He didn’t want to do it again. Not ever. He valued it, over any other experience, over any other relationship, he’d ever had. He didn’t have the energy to do it again.
Lindsay had made him a better man, and he was never going to go back on that. He wouldn’t do that to her memory. Yeah, he’d given her those eight years, but she’d given them to him, too. He wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But she saw him as somebody worthwhile, and he had needed that, more than air.
Maybe that was part of why the shallow hookup thing didn’t work for him.
He almost laughed. Actually, he could see Lindsay telling him to go for it.
You’re too serious, Grant. Go have some fun.
He gritted his teeth and took another drink of whiskey. Thankfully, after that, the rest of the crew arrived, and pushed his thoughts out of that maudlin territory.
Lindy and Bea were talking about Lindy’s brother, Dane, and his recovery from a recent accident he’d suffered on the rodeo circuit. “When he’s up and around, hopefully we can get him a job on the ranch,” Lindy said.
Bea’s forehead creased. “How long do you think that will be? He was... Not so great when I saw him the other day.”
“Yeah,” Lindy said. “He’s not so great.”
Well, Grant could relate to that. Though maybe that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t been trampled by a bull. He was just... Constantly trying to figure out what the hell his life was supposed to look like.
That, he related to. The fact that your life could change completely, look nothing like you wanted it to, and you could do nothing but go on living.
Grant figured that the chances of Dane getting back to riding were slim to none. Also, knowing his brother Wyatt like he did, he knew that bull riders didn’t take kindly to the idea that they might be human, or fallible in any way.
“So what’s the deal with the new girl?” Jamie asked. “The new hire?”
“You said there was nothing different happening at the ranch,” Bennett said, looking at Grant pointedly.
“We don’t talk about every new ranch hand we bring on board.”
“This sounds like something other than a random ranch hand,” Bennett commented.
“It’s a woman,” Jamie said. “She’s young.”
“She’s twenty-six,” Grant said. All heads swiveled toward him. “She told me,” he added, knowing he sounded a little defensive. “Anyway, Jamie, she’s older than you.”
“You seem to be an expert on the subject,” Kaylee said.
“I’m not an expert,” Grant said. “But I found her this morning sleeping in one of the abandoned cabins on the property. She was homeless.”
“What?” Jamie asked.
Bea was looking at him with wide eyes. “She was homeless? She didn’t say anything about that when I talked to her today.”
Leave it to Bea to have struck up a conversation with McKenna. Bea was a collector of strays, though mostly they were of the furry variety. It didn’t surprise him that she had a soft heart when it came to people, too.
“Yeah, well, I doubt it comes up in polite conversation,” Grant said.
“She didn’t... Well, she didn’t look homeless,” Bea said. “Not that there’s... I mean... That sounded mean.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bea,” Lindy said, putting her hand over Bea’s. “I know what you meant.”
“I found her this morning,” Grant said. “And today she was put in my charge. So, I spent time showing her around the ranch, and helping her figure out the job.”
“I invited her to come out tonight,” Wyatt said. “She didn’t want to.”
“Possibly because she didn’t have money to pay for drinks,” Lindy said gently.
Wyatt frowned. “I would’ve bought her drink.”
“She probably didn’t want to assume,” Lindy said.
“Well, next time I’ll make it clear.”
“I wonder what happened,” Jamie said. “I mean, it has to be pretty rough to end up sleeping in one of those god-awful cabins on the ranch property. Those things are full of spiders.”
Yeah, Grant imagined McKenna had had it pretty tough. Not just because he’d found her curled up on the floor this morning, but because her whole demeanor was like a shield. Fully designed to keep people away from her.
“Why didn’t Luke and Olivia come tonight?” Bea asked.
“From what I heard,” Jamie said, “they couldn’t get a babysitter.”
That was when Jamie held up her cell phone and showed off pictures of Luke and Olivia’s baby. Not that she was much of a baby these days.
Grant didn’t look at the pictures. He made a show of it, but he let his eyes skim over the screen. Not that he wasn’t happy for Luke. He was. Luke was like a brother to him, and the guy had had it rough growing up. He deserved every bit of happiness with Olivia that he could get. But that didn’t mean Grant wanted to look at it.
“Does anybody want another round?” Grant stood up and gestured toward the bar. “I’m going to get another drink.”
All hands around the table went up, and Grant took that as a great excuse to take a small break away from the revelry.
He was good at that. Good at using alcohol as a distraction.
Another image of McKenna filtered through his mind. McKenna would be a damned good distraction.
He gritted his teeth, pushed that out of his mind and walked over to the bar.
