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Taking my time on my walk, I take off my cowboy hat and hold it, purposely going out of my way to avoid walking by Jude and Sadie’s. If she’s home, she’ll see I’m upset and try to fix it. There’s no fixing that my brothers don’t take me seriously or that anything I want doesn’t matter as long as they’re living their dreams.
I walk into my house, smelling garlic, and see Briar in my kitchen. She’s wearing an apron that’s too fucking cute, with her hair braided to the side of her head. There’s music playing, and she’s swinging her hips to the beat. The screen door shuts, giving me away, and she turns.
“Don’t worry. When I get close to the stove, I put this on.” She takes a blow-up inner tube off the counter and shimmies it over her head until it’s around her waist.
Damn, I needed that laugh right now. It’s as if she knew I just had a fight with my brothers.
“And I promise I’m not going to burn the garlic bread this time either.”
I walk into the kitchen and wash my hands in the sink, looking at the garlic bread that’s about to go in the oven. “Your famous garlic bread,” I say, leaning along the counter, watching her as I dry my hands.
“Well, my mom’s actually. It was about the only thing either of us could cook.” She opens the oven door and slides the tray into the oven.
I shrug. “It’s something.”
She smiles at me and nods. “Yeah, it is.”
“What can I help with?” I toss the paper towel in the trash and wait for instructions.
“Nothing. This is my way of saying thanks for listening to me the other day. And also, for letting me stay here.”
“I was brought up to help.” I look at the stove and find a pot of boiling water.
She nudges me, pushing me away. “Go and sit. This is my meal to make.”
“Hard bargain.” I get a beer from the fridge, unscrew the top, and drop the cap in the trash before sitting on a stool.
“Enjoy that for me.” She pours the pasta into the boiling water.
I take a long pull of my beer. “That one was for you.”
She glances over her shoulder, and a feeling I’ve never felt washes over me. I’m watching a woman in my kitchen, preparing me dinner after I’ve had a grueling day on the ranch. It’s not anything I’ve experienced before, and as crazy as it is, I don’t hate it.
“So, what was your drink of choice?” I ask.
She stirs a wooden spoon through the water and rests it on top of the pot before walking over to the counter and leaning on it. “I love margaritas. Not frozen, on the rocks. Other than that, I’m a specials girl.”
I sip my beer. “Specials girl?”
“The fruity drinks that are only available for the night, or for the week, or maybe the season. Those are my thing.”
“Ahh… girly drinks.”
She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. “Specials.”
I hold up my hands, not wanting to get into an argument with someone else today. I’m still stewing over the fight with Jude and Ben. I’m not a confrontational person, which is probably how the whole situation blew up in the first place. I’ve let my feelings fester.
Briar pushes off the counter and goes to the stove, checking on the garlic bread. Contrary to most, I love surprises—the good kind obviously.
“How was your day at work? What do you do at the ranch? Chase and rope the cows?”
I chuckle. “Okay, tell me what you think happens on the ranch?”
She clues in on my sarcasm and pretend pouts. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Let’s just say it was a shitty day, and I want to laugh.”
She turns fully around, the wooden spoon in her hand, and stares at me for a moment. “I do need to pay you back for making me laugh.”
