Page 9 of Cowboy Stalker
In the office, I give Daisy her bottle. She’s going through a growth spurt lately so she’s eating more than usual. When I’m done, I burp her and give her a soft smile. She’s the best thing in my world. Even when nothing else makes sense or when I’m in knots over kissing Griffin, she still makes everything better.
I wrap the mommy sling around my chest and settle her inside of it. This thing kills my back and shoulders, but I love having her nearby. Especially when I have lots of chores to do. “Let’s go help Griff.”
But when I leave the office, everything is already done. The dishwasher has been loaded. The counters have been cleaned and wiped. The floor has been carefully swept and mopped. Even the cooking utensils are hung up on the hooks the way they should be.
Griffin looks up from filling up the sugar canisters. “We’re all good here. The only thing left to do is turn out the lights.”
“I didn’t expect you to?—”
“I wanted to,” he answers easily. “I’d rather do the chores, so you can get home and get a good night’s sleep.”
I thank him before I lock up the restaurant, pausing to put the day’s earnings in the office safe. Ernie will take it to the bank tomorrow.
When I’m done, Griffin follows me to the parking lot. I settle Daisy in the car then turn to him. He’s standing so close that I take half a step backward. I open my mouth to tell him something. I’m not sure what to say about our impromptu makeout session.
He cups my face again like he did earlier and says softly, “I’m here. I’m in this for the long haul. Push me away as many times as you need to until you feel safe. Test me again and again. I’ll always fight for you. I’ll fight for us.”
I nod without making promises. If I open my mouth, I’ll confess that he’s wearing me down. He’s making me long for a future together, and that might be the most dangerous thing about this man.
Griffin
I wait until Missy disappears into her rental home before I start the video feed on my phone. It’s the one that shows me the inside of her apartment.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I have rules so it’s not weird. The first rule is that I don’t touch myself while watching the feed. Sure, that one isn’t easy. Watching the delicate sway of her hips as she wanders through the apartment in her little T-shirts and tiny panties is rough.
Every time I see her singing along to the radio and shimmying her hips, I want to break down the door and grab her. I’d push her down onto that threadbare couch of hers and kiss my way down her body. I’d make her perfect body squirm beneath me.
The second rule is that I only allow myself to watch the video feed in her living room and kitchen. There’s one in her bedroom, but I only use it for a quick glimpse. I’m looking for things out of place or other signs someone may have been in her space. So far, so good.
If I didn’t have these cameras inside of her house, I’d be a bear. As it is, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to sweep into the rental and demand she pack her bags so she and Daisy can come live with me. It’d be a tight fit in the tiny hunting cabin on the edge of Aunt Dorothy’s property, but Missy would be under my roof where I can spoil her day and night.
The night passes uneventfully. Well, uneventfully in that no trouble showed up on Missy’s doorstep. But I got an eyeful when she came home. She stripped down to her panties and tank top while fiddling with the AC unit.
I feel like an idiot for not realizing that it was giving her problems. That’s why she wanders around the place half-dressed. I make a mental note to get that fixed even if it means I miss seeing so much of her beautiful skin.
She goes through the house like a tornado, cleaning everything in sight. She talks to Daisy the entire time she does, pausing sometimes to play a baby brainiac soundtrack that’s supposed to be good for little ones to listen to.
I watch her work, marveling that the woman is never still. If she were at my cabin, I’d tie her to the bed and lick her until she was a quivering mess. Then I’d crawl under the sheets and cuddle her until she fell into a peaceful sleep.
When she and Daisy do manage some shuteye, I relax. I won’t sleep. I’ve taken to grabbing shut-eye when she’s at the diner. I’ve already talked to Ernie and Lorna. I paid them a visit and told them that trouble was following my girl. They’re keeping an eye on her, and they’ll call if anyone shady shows up.
The next morning, I follow Missy to work. I wait until she and Daisy are safely inside before I drive to Aunt Dorothy’s farm so I can grab a change of clothes from the hunting cabin where my stuff is. I haven’t told her about Missy yet, but she probably knows already.
I stop in at the barn, hoping I can catch my aunt in the middle of her chores. The woman works this farm from sun-up to sundown. I’ve never heard her complain about the back-breaking work.
The familiar scent of hay, manure, and horse hits my nostrils. Up until I met Missy, I’d say that smell was home. Now, it’s coconut body wash and pink rose shampoo with a hint of baby formula underneath.
I follow the sound of Russell’s voice to the tack room. He’s the foreman. He’s been with Dorothy for years. Probably decades at this point.
Russell is talking, frustration bleeding into his tone. It makes his thick Southern accent more pronounced. “Take it easy. Just for one day.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I step into the tiny room. Aunt Dorothy turns to me, and my knees threaten to buckle. She’s got a black eye. For a moment, I’m six years old and listening as Mom tells me that if anyone asks, she tripped down the stairs.
Dorothy must read the alarm on my face because she pats her leg that’s encased in a black walker boot, the kind the doctor gives you after you’ve sprained something. “Met the business end of a horse.”
I glance at Russell, amazement overtaking my concern for a moment. “And you got her medical attention?”
She shoots him a dirty look as he says, “She was knocked unconscious. I loaded her into my truck before she came back to.”
