Part Time Cowboy. Maisey Yates

She looked like a wet hen. He should remember that. He sent a meaningful message below his belt, but he had a feeling it was going to get lost in translation.

      Mainly because his body never seemed to want to translate those kinds of messages. But then, what guy’s did?

      Especially not when the only company said body had enjoyed for the past six months was that of his right hand.

      “All right,” he said, “let’s go check out your disaster. I’ll sit this round out,” he told Jack.

      Jack swept the deck of cards to the edge of the table and leaned back, shuffling expertly. “All right, kids, get ready to lose your hard-earned money.”

      “Sorry,” Sadie said, as they walked out of the room. “Obviously I’m interrupting.”

      “It’s not a big deal. It’s a thing that happens a lot. Poker. I’m not going to miss one game. And the sad fact is, Jack’s right. We’re all going to lose our hard-earned money to him. And he’ll continue the grand tradition of having non...hard-earned money.”

      “I bet there’s a story there,” she said.

      “Isn’t there always?” he asked.

      She nodded. “Yeah, in my experience, there is. Speaking of—” she pushed the front door open and he followed her onto the porch “—what’s Connor’s story?” The end of the sentence was hushed.

      He closed the door, feeling a little uncomfortable having a stranger digging for information. Mainly because he was so used to family junk staying in the family. Because it was still ingrained in him. To keep the exterior looking shiny, no matter how bad the inside was.

      But Connor’s deal wasn’t really a secret. A cursory visit to Copper Ridge’s cemetery would tell his story in full.

      “I don’t know if you remember Jessie Collins.”

      “Vaguely. I might. Did she work at the Crow’s Nest?”

      “I think so,” he said, trying not to picture his sister-in-law too clearly. Because it was too sad, even for him.

      “Well, she was Jessie Garrett for about eight years. But, uh...she was killed in an accident.”

      It was a night Eli would rather forget. He could remember the scene clearly. A dark two-lane highway, and a car wrapped around a tree. He’d known it was too late for whoever was inside. That it had been from the moment of impact. He’d seen too many accidents like that, and not enough miracles.

      The car had been so messed up he hadn’t recognized the make or model. Hadn’t realized it was Jessie’s until one of the volunteer firefighters, who’d been first on the scene, had come charging back from the car yelling at him not to come closer.

      They’d been trying to spare him because of who it was. But in the end, he’d looked. Because he had to be sure.

      And then he’d been the one to officially notify his brother. And nothing in all of his life, in all of his training, had prepared him to stand on the front porch in his uniform and tell his older brother that his beautiful wife wasn’t coming home. Not that night, not any night after.

      Damn trees. Damn road. Two people they’d loved lost that way.

      Though in their dad’s case, he’d been at clear fault. Alcohol had caused his crash. Jessie had probably swerved to miss a deer, but they’d never know for sure.

      “Oh,” Sadie said, her voice muted.

      “So he comes by his attitude honestly,” Eli said, walking down the stairs to the driveway. “You want to ride in the patrol car?”

      She looked at him, a brow raised. “It’s a short walk. Anyway, I don’t want to have any flashbacks.”

      “Emotionally traumatized?”

      “Completely.”

      “Good. I probably kept your ass out of trouble.”

      “Ugh,” she said. “Do not act like you did me any favors. What helped was getting the hell out of this town.”

      “Is that what helped?”

      “Yeah. There’s not enough options here. And there’s way too much free time. I badly needed to escape.”

      “So why are you back?”

      She sighed loudly. “Can I get away with repeating what I told you earlier?”

      “No.”

      “Well, fine. That is just a damn good question.” She took a big step and her foot landed in a pile of sticks that crunched loudly beneath her boot, before she shifted, her other foot making contact with soft dirt as she continued on toward the Catalog House.

      “And you don’t have the answer?”

      “You know...you have to live somewhere. And I’ve had a hard time finding a place that didn’t...suck. So I’m back here. Because—” she turned partway and offered him a shrug and a sheepish smile, the setting sun igniting a pink halo around her pale hair “—well, I am. And currently, all I’ve achieved is drowned-rat status.”

      “Don’t go near the barn. Connor has rat traps.”

      “And cats, I hear,” she said, tromping through the tree line and into the driveway of her...his...house. He followed, frowning involuntarily as he caught a glimpse of the bare flower beds. Sure, all that had been in them before was overgrown weeds, but she had them completely stripped now.

      “Those are the rat traps I was talking about.”

      “Don’t talk about cats that way in front of Toby. He’s sensitive.”

      “He’s probably been talking to you about his feelings too much.”

      “Was that a therapist joke?” she asked, moving ahead of him and up the stairs to open the front door.

      “Yeah, it was. Excuse me, I’m out of practice with jokes.”

      “Obviously.”

      Her cat was there, on the kitchen table, looking at him pointedly. As if he sensed that Eli had absolutely no use for him, and he was greatly offended by it. Except Eli knew that wasn’t it because it was a cat, and cats had no higher consciousness, as evidenced by their reaction to string.

      He stared back at the cat.

      “He is unimpressed with you,” she said.

      “The feeling is mutual. Now hang on a second while I try to figure out where the water shutoff is.”

      “That would be helpful,” she said. “Water shutoff valves would be helpful.”

      “Connor should have left you a list of that stuff. Where it all is. Fuse boxes and water mains. Though I’m betting he doesn’t even know where it is here.”

      “How long has it been since anyone’s lived here?”

      “A couple of years. An older lady rented it for about ten years, until she died.”

      “This place is kind of full of sad history,” Sadie said.

      “Yeah. Welcome to the Garrett Ranch, where the motto is, if it doesn’t kill you...just wait.”

      “That is distasteful. I’m sure.”

      “Completely, but also the story of our lives. Now, I’m willing to bet your shutoff is somewhere inconvenient, like...maybe the shed outside?”

      “I haven’t looked.”

      “All right, come on. If we find it, I can show you how to shut it off.”

      “Maybe I know how to shut it off,” she said, following him back out the door and down the stairs. “Maybe I’m a water-valve expert.”

      “But you aren’t,” he said,