A Tall, Dark Cowboy Christmas

“All right, that’s a good reason. Because no, I haven’t ever used a compressor.”

He pried open the lid on the paint can and started to stir, and she found herself captivated by his movements, even while he was all covered up. This morning he had on a dark jacket and gloves, the same hat he’d been wearing yesterday on top of his head.

“Is this what you would be doing if you weren’t babysitting me?”

“I’m not babysitting. I’m training.”

She shrugged. “Well, is this what you would be doing if I wasn’t here?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Probably by myself.”

“How much of a charity case am I, Grant?”

“I’ll get the job done faster with you here.” His sidestep didn’t go unnoticed.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Do you want the answer, McKenna?”

“I don’t actually care if I’m a charity case. People in my position can’t afford to put pride over a warm meal.”

“Fair enough. It’s probably about fifty-fifty. Because let’s face it, the cleaning work that we need you for doesn’t exactly cover pay and a place to stay. And it sure as hell isn’t full-time.”

“Fair enough,” she said.

“How did you end up—”

“Working a string of menial jobs and having no connections in my life?”

“Yeah,” he said, hefting the five-gallon bucket of paint and pouring a measure into a tray.

“Foster care,” she said. “Which kind of gets you used to the transient lifestyle. Also, not the best for forming long-term attachments.”

“All your life?”

“From the time I was two.”

Most people looked at her with pity after she told them that. Most people said they were sorry. Grant Dodge just seemed to absorb it. Like she had spoken the words to a mountain, and not a man.

“I did not get good grades in school. Didn’t know how to even begin applying for financial aid for college. Didn’t want to, anyway. I struck out on my own with a guy that I met in my last home. That didn’t turn out. Had a little run of didn’t turn out. Decided that at least if I was on my own I was never going to get screwed for anyone else’s mistakes. Which ended up not being true, since my last landlord sold the place out from under me. Thought that was more a deliberate action than a mistake on her part.”

She looked up at Grant. His expression contained neither judgment nor pity, and she didn’t know quite what to do with that. Typically, it was one or the other.

“Aren’t there tenants’ rights to protect you?” he asked.

“Sure,” she answered. “But how am I going to take anyone to court? How am I going to make sure that those rights are enforced? Mostly, it isn’t going to happen.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t seem—”

“Life is not fair, Grant. Not even close.”

“Yeah, I’m actually familiar with that principle.”

Again, she didn’t ask. It was strange, because he was asking her quite a few questions. More than she had expected a guy like him to ask, certainly. But she could tell the reverse would not be welcome.

“Well, then we understand each other to a degree. I don’t expect life to be fair. And that’s why when I’m given unexpected charity, I don’t kick up a fuss. I’ve had enough of the alternative to know that if something good is going to cross my path, I’m going to take it for however long it lasts.”

“Pretty solid principle to live by,” he said.

“I haven’t got a whole hell ton of principles, but the ones I do have have served me pretty well.” She dipped the long-handled roller into the tray of paint and moved it back and forth a few times, sliding it through the ridge part of the tray to get rid of the excess.

“Anywhere?” she asked.

“Anywhere,” he responded.

While he set up the air compressor, she set about making her mark on the side of the barn. She had thought yesterday’s work was satisfying, but this was somewhere beyond that. It was therapeutic in a way. Bright red strokes over weathered, worn wood. Making something new out of something old. It was more than just cleaning, it was transforming. She and Grant worked in relative silence, nothing but the sound of the air compressor, which blended into white noise and became somewhat meditative as she worked through the lower sections of the barn. They worked until her arms ached, and she was hungry.

“Why don’t we take a lunch break?” Grant asked.

“Sounds good to me.”

He covered her paint roller in plastic, and then the two of them walked back down the trail toward the mess hall. This time, when they walked by one of the covered arena areas, there were horses, and a girl with dark hair was riding one around a set of barrels.

“That’s my sister,” he said. “Jamie.”

McKenna found herself glued to the scene in front of her. She walked over to the fence, draping her arms over the top, and just watched. Grant went to stand next to her, a silent, tall figure at her side. “She’s pretty good, isn’t she?”

“Amazing,” McKenna answered.

“You want to ride sometime?”

She turned her head toward him, her expression contorting into one of shock. “I don’t know how.”

“I can teach you,” he said.

“You could teach me?”

He hesitated. “Or Jamie could.”

She wanted Grant to teach her. And if he had been a different man she might have said that. Hell, they were talking about him teaching her to ride. If it had been a different man she probably would’ve made an innuendo out of it.

But then, if it had been a different man she wouldn’t have felt like it. There was a reason she hadn’t been with anyone in a couple of years. She was sick of all the ridiculous nonsense that came with men. The way that a nice relationship turned into a series of transactions, and then faded out into boredom before the guy abandoned her. There was always hope in the beginning. That was one of the things she hated about herself. She could never quite squash that out. She knew women who could. At the last diner she’d worked at, there had been a whole crew of women on swing shift who had been shiny and sharp like obsidian.

Pretty, but hard.

Every client that wanted something extra with his meal was met with laughter and a cutting jab, and McKenna could hold her own there. But then, they also were all in relationships, and McKenna had recently sworn off them.

She remembered talking to the shift manager, Ruby, about that.