Page 27 of Swift and Saddled

I did the mental math in my head of what I’d used the card for over the past couple of weeks against the limit.

Fuck.

“I—I—” I stammered. “Let me check.” I pulled out my wallet, trying to figure out how I could get out of this situation.

Just as I was about to make a run for it, another card slid across the counter and Weston’s voice said, “Use this.” I didn’t want him to save me. I didn’t need him to take care of me. This is what I got for opening up to him in the truck—another man who thought he could swoop in. “Your credit card company probably thinks your card got stolen,” he laughed. I knew that wasn’t true, but the cashier laughed along with him. He was covering for me, eliminating my embarrassment.

“That wouldn’t be the first time that happened,” the blond employee said. “How’s the project up at Rebel Blue going?”

“It’s good, Kenny. Thanks for asking.” Wes gestured toward me. “And you just met the woman in charge.” The cashier—Kenny—looked at me again.

“Welcome to Meadowlark,” Kenny said.

“See you later,” Wes said as he grabbed the bag with all of my stuff off the counter and headed for the door.

Once we were outside, I stopped and looked at Weston, who came to a stop next to me. The expression on his face was expectant, like he knew what I was about to say.

Well, he had it coming. “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snapped.

“I know I didn’t have to do that,” he said. “But watching you shiver every morning is driving me fucking crazy, and you won’t take any of the coats I offer.” Yeah, because the one time I wore one of his coats I was so distracted by the smell I almost kissed him again.

“Because I was planning on buying myowncoat,” I retorted.

“That plan worked out great, didn’t it?”

“I would’ve figured it out,” I said, even though I really didn’t think so. Worst case, I would’ve just had to leave without my haul. Best case, Kenny would’ve fallen for my “but I’m just a girl” shtick and extended me credit.

“Ada,” Weston said, using one hand to rub at his temple like he was the one entitled to be annoyed, “I did what I would’ve done for anyone else.” I ignored the way that made my stomach drop just a little bit. “If it’s that big a deal, I will take it all back.” Well, no. I didn’t want that. “But you need a coat. Your card didn’t work, and mine did. Pay me back later.” He looked at me then. “You can even add interest if it makes you feel better.”

It didn’t, but the way one of his dimples was trying not to make an appearance did.

“Fine,” I said.

“Fine,” he responded.

The ride home was quiet, the only sound the soft rock playlist—Tom Petty, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Steve Winwood—that flowed through the speakers.

And there were no stick-shift lessons.

But that didn’t stop me from imagining how my skin would feel pressed against his.

Great.

Chapter 12

Ada

Every morning at Rebel Blue was beautiful, but when I woke up on Sunday morning, I knew those mornings were going to become my favorites.

I wasn’t an early riser. Or a night owl. Really, I would just rather be sleeping. But there was something about waking up in a log cabin surrounded by evergreens and cool mountain air that made waking up early a hell of a lot easier.

I tried to remember whether I’d snoozed my alarm at any point in the last week and realized I hadn’t. That was rare for me. I didn’t set an alarm on Sundays, but that didn’t matter at Rebel Blue because I rose with the sun.

I rolled out of bed and took my time washing my face and going through my morning skin care routine. I didn’t have any big plans today—I tried not to work on Sundays. I didn’t always succeed, but at least I tried. I pulled my new black Carhartt hoodie over my head, slid on a pair of leggings, and topped them with a thick pair of wool socks that someone had left outside my door a few days ago.

There was a note attached to them that had “For the cold floors” scribbled on it.

When I put them on the first time, I knew I never wanted to let these socks go.

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