Part Time Cowboy

“How does it sound sexual?”

She squinted. “Really?”

She waited for a full four seconds while it registered. She could see when it did because his humorless, impassive face had a slight shift before going back to being total granite. He still had his sunglasses on, so she couldn’t see his eyes, only her own reflection. Which looked flushed and flustered. And not from heat, that was for sure.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I didn’t say,” she said.

“I know. I tend to remember conversations that happened less than five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see how that’s any of your business, since I’m not being detained for questioning.”

“For someone who hasn’t been arrested more than just the once, you have the lingo down perfectly.”

“I’m a therapist. I work with some troubled souls. I’ve seen more than one arrest.”

“Hmm,” he said. A noise halfway between a word and a grunt.

“What?”

“I’m surprised you became a therapist, is all.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

She knew what that because meant. Because you’re such a mess. That was what it meant. And she was not a mess. She wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t a disaster, either. Anyway, thankfully, having your crap together was not a requirement for being able to help others get their crap together. So there. She didn’t say that last part, though. Because...well, gun. Badge. Handcuffs.

“I like to fix things,” she said. That was honest. “To fix people, actually. I don’t just arrest them and throw away the key. I try to make an impact on people’s lives.”

“Well, it takes both types, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah. So anyway, don’t you have some teenage miscreants to harass? I seem to recall that being your MO.”

As soon as she said it, an old red pickup truck eased into the space in front of her and an old man, one who looked familiar, got out, holding a gas can the same color as the truck.

“Well,” the other man said, a smile on his face, “if it isn’t Ms. Sadie Miller.”

Apparently she was wrong about not having anyone in town who still knew her. It was like these people had nothing better to do than remember every single soul who was born in this burg. For all eternity.

In fairness, though, she remembered Bud, too. She had no idea what his real name was. Or if he had one. Hell, that could be it. There was more than one Bubba in town, and they went by it completely un-ironically, so there really was no telling.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s me.”

“What brings you back to town?” he asked. “Your parents aren’t back, are they?”

“No,” she said. “They’re still down in Coos Bay.” Not that she spoke to them. For all she knew they could be somewhere else entirely by now, but she didn’t care. Not anymore.

She couldn’t watch their dynamic, not now that she had a choice. She’d moved away from her father’s rages. She wasn’t going to expose herself to them again.

And her mother wouldn’t leave. No matter how many times Sadie begged, her mother wouldn’t leave.

“I see. Well, it’s good to have you back.” He put his hand on the bill of his ball cap and tugged it down sharply before heading to the back of her car and opening up the gas tank.

Just like that. Like her presence mattered. Not like she was some hooligan who’d accidentally started a little barn fire and gotten herself arrested. Not like she was the child of a wife-beater or a disturber of the peace.

Like he was happy she was there.

Darn. She felt a little emotional now.

She unbuckled and got out, standing next to the car and watching Bud, bent at the waist and pouring gas into her car. “Hey, whatever I owe you, I’ll bring it by the gas station. I don’t have cash, but...”

Bud straightened. “Don’t you worry about it,” he said. “Consider it a welcome home.”

She couldn’t fathom why he was being so nice. She’d barely had any interaction with him. Back when she’d been a kid she would often go into the store that was adjacent to the station, after she and some friends had gone swimming in the river, and buy candy bars for fifty cents. Shivering in wet bathing suits in the cold, air-conditioned building.

But she hadn’t really thought of him as someone who would know her. Or...care. “I appreciate that.” But she would still be going down to the gas station to pay him back as soon as she could.

Maybe even before she went to the Garrett ranch.

“Thank you. Both.” She wasn’t going to let Eli Garrett get to her. She wasn’t going to let this stand as some sort of sign of how the rest of her venture here was going to be.

Nope. Just because it began with a vehicular disaster and Eli Garrett did not mean it would continue on that way.

Her eyes clashed with Eli’s and she looked down at the ground before realizing that was more awkward than just looking at him like he was a normal person. And not like he was a very handsome person who had once handcuffed her.

Even though he was.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go now. I have...places to be.” Eli would find out what those places were eventually, but hopefully that didn’t mean they would have to actually see each other.

She got back in the car and shut the door, and saw in her rearview mirror that Eli had done the same. Good.

She took a deep breath and started the engine, then put the car into gear. She was on to new things, reclaiming an old past and stealing its power.

And a little run-in with Eli Garrett wasn’t going to change that.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f0066c7b-190d-5e13-b38a-2678f6e36941)

THE CATALOG HOUSE was even more beautiful than advertised. Rough around the edges, yes, but Sadie had been warned about that.

The lawn needed replanting. Or sod. But she wasn’t sure she had the budget to lay down a grass carpet. Which meant she might be stuck with seeding, and patience. She hated being patient. She didn’t like sitting around. And she had never waited for the grass to grow.

She leaned back against her car and studied the house. From the rocks that went halfway up the facade, to the solid, original wood paneling and the cut-glass windows, it was something that spoke of a different time.

It was hardly a rough-hewn cabin. It was almost too elegant to be out here, buried in the trees at the base of the mountains. But she knew, from what Connor had sent in his email, that the house was one his great-great-grandfather had ordered for his wife from a Sears and Roebuck catalog around 1914. Something to make the wilderness of Oregon seem a little less wild, compared to their old home in Boston.

Sadie imagined that, in a land of log cabins, this had been the most modern dwelling in the area.