Trish Milburn - Marrying the Cowboy

“Well, then, I suggest you quit work a little earlier tonight. You give me a time, and I’ll have a nice hot meal ready for you.”

“Verona, really—”

“Boy, how long have you known me?”

Pete ran his hand over his face. “Forever.”

“Then you should know you’re not going to win an argument with me.” She ruffled his already mussed hair as if he were a little boy.

His heart ached at the gesture, at the memory of his mom doing the same thing. He nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. Now if I can just convince that niece of mine to come home at a decent time.” Verona turned and headed out of the cell, no doubt shifting her efforts to Elissa.

By the time he put in another long day, he didn’t need any convincing to head for Verona’s and the promised hot meal. Plus, the lure of a real bed instead of the torture rack of a cell bunk would be enough to make him crawl all the way to his street.

* * *

ELISSA STRETCHED HER back and stared at the heaping pile of lost revenue she’d spent the past two days constructing at the edge of the nursery parking lot. Dead plants and shredded lumber mingled with countless chunks of broken pottery and twisted metalwork. The pile was an ugly reminder of all she’d lost in the space of a few minutes, but she couldn’t get rid of it until she dealt with the insurance adjuster, whenever that might be.

Like the restoration of electricity, dealing with all the claims in the area was going to take time, no matter how badly she wished she could move both things into the “taken care of” column on her to-do list.

Left with barely any daylight, she turned and dragged her tired, overworked body toward her SUV. Her stomach growled to remind her that she’d not been eating enough to fuel all the work she was doing. Her employees had helped out earlier in the day, but they’d been gone for a couple of hours. She’d worked from near daybreak to dark the past two days, and she still didn’t feel as if she’d made a dent.

Still, she couldn’t complain too much, not when two lives had been lost at the edge of the county and others besides Pete had lost their homes. At least she had a comfortable place to sleep at night, some peace and normality. Suddenly, nothing sounded better than collapsing into her bed and sleeping for twelve hours straight.

As she drove back into the main part of Blue Falls, the lights blazing in the windows told her that electricity had been restored. When she reached the house and pulled into the garage beside Verona’s little car, Elissa didn’t immediately get out. Fatigue settled on her along with the realization that if she didn’t get more sleep tonight, she was going to run out of steam way before she got the nursery property cleaned up and on the road to recovery. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, felt herself drifting.

Pecking on the window startled her fully awake. She gasped at the sight of someone standing there, someone not Verona, until she realized it was Pete. With a shake of her head, she unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out.

“What are you trying to do, scare me to death?”

“You’ve been sitting out here for ten minutes.”

“And you know this how?”

Pete crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the fender of her vehicle. “Because Verona and I are hungry, and we were waiting for you to come in.”

That’s when she caught the distinctive scent of freshly baked bread. Elissa’s stomach growled loudly at the mention of food.

Pete smiled. “Looks like we’re not the only ones hungry.”

“I can’t decide if I’m more hungry or exhausted.”

“Also know how that feels.” Pete nodded toward the door that led into the kitchen. “Come on. She made chicken and dumplings.”

Comfort food. That’s what they all needed right now, even though dumplings were usually winter fare. She made her way into the kitchen and collapsed onto the nearest chair.

As Verona set a fresh basket of yeast rolls on the table, she squeezed Elissa’s shoulder. “You’re working too hard, honey.”

“It won’t get done if I don’t work. And the longer it takes, the longer I don’t have any income.”

Verona slipped into her chair at the opposite end of the table as Pete pulled out a chair between them and sank onto it, looking every bit as tired as Elissa felt.

“All I’m saying is that it won’t hurt anything to sleep in a bit tomorrow, both of you.”

Throughout dinner, they talked about the storm’s aftermath.

“It’s so sad about the Claytons,” Verona said with a shake of her head. None of them really knew the older couple, but they’d seemed nice enough when they’d come into town from their posts as hosts at the state park campground several miles out of town. They’d been found in the twisted remains of their RV. “But it’s a miracle no one else was killed.” Verona patted Pete’s hand.

Elissa’s frazzled emotions had a lump forming in her throat at the idea of how close Pete had come to also being a casualty. She’d never lost a close friend, and the mere thought made her want to cry buckets. And she wasn’t even a crier. It was a sure sign that she needed sleep even more than she’d suspected.

“This was delicious,” Elissa said. “But I’ve got to hit the hay before I do a face-plant in my bowl.” She started to take her bowl to the sink until Verona waved it back down to the table, indicating she’d take care of the dishes.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Pete said, and stood, too.

As Elissa crossed the living area toward the hallway to the bedrooms, it dawned on her that she had no idea where Pete was staying. She turned to ask him only to find him right behind her. “You’re staying here?”

“Yep. Your aunt threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t.”

“I did not,” Verona called from the kitchen.

“Close enough.” Pete smiled, and even though his fatigue mirrored her own, it was good to see that smile.

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same in his situation. It was tough enough in her own.

“You don’t mind sharing your space with a smelly boy?”

Elissa actually laughed a little at that, remembering the long-ago comment she’d made when he and Greg Bozeman had tried to sandwich her between them during a particularly sweaty P.E. class.

“As long as you remember to put the toilet seat down, you’re safe.”

He gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes at him and resumed her trek to her bedroom. After making quick work of ditching her dirty clothes and slipping into her pajamas, she snuggled into her comfortable bed. It wasn’t until she heard the distinctive squeak in the next room that she remembered the guest bed was just on the other side of the wall, pushed long-ways along the wall as hers was. And for some odd reason, it felt weird to be lying in her bed that close to Pete. When she suddenly wondered what he slept in, she knew she’d gone way, way too long without sleep. She rolled over to place her back toward the wall, but damned if that same question didn’t plague her until she finally succumbed to the sandman.

Chapter Three

By the time Pete woke the next morning, the sun was streaming in the window and the little digital clock read 10:30 a.m. And despite the fact that he was in an unfamiliar bed, he didn’t think he’d slept that well in months, so much so that he didn’t want to move. Since he didn’t have to work until the afternoon shift, he lay right where he was for several more minutes, making a mental to-do list. He’d rather go out to the stables for a ride, but he didn’t have time. First thing he needed to do was find some cheap transportation. He’d get an insurance settlement eventually, but he couldn’t wait that long. He had a mess to clean up next door, and that required a truck.