Page 11 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Only one lightwas on in her house when Shelby arrived home much earlier than anticipated. After talking with Ty, she figured she had two choices—stay out, get drunk, and go home with Cassie, or man up and deal with her maddening conversation stone cold sober. Drunk was tempting, but she’d be dealing regardless, so why start with a headache and cotton mouth the next morning?
Shelby let herself into the house as quietly as possible, on the off chance that Gramps was sleeping in his chair. He wasn’t. She hung her keys on the hook near the door and slipped out of her shoes.
Gramps was a bona fide night owl. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in bed before eleven and wondered if it was cause of concern. He had looked tired when he’d come into the house just before she left, but there was that flu bug going around… or maybe age was finally catching up with him. It happened—even to seemingly ageless guys like Les O’Connor.
There was no light coming out from under her grandfather’s door when she crept down the hall to the bathroom. She would have loved to have unwound in front of the television, watched something mindless, but she decided to go to bed and not sleep instead.
Crazy how she felt as if she had to unwind after drinks, but that wasexactlyhow she felt. On edge. Nerves taut.
Damn Ty Harding.
And damn her fool hormones.
Mine, mine, mine. They’d shouted every time he’d gotten close.
Not yours anymore, ladies, because we’re not going to put ourselves throughthatagain.It hurt like hell to want someone from the depths of her being and have them simply walk away. Yes, he was back, but Shelby wasn’t about to settle for being the consolation prize. Ty’s career was over and now he needed a home, a job. A pair of loving arms…
Her lips curled as she cranked on the water.
Not my arms, bud. She’d meant every word she’d said tonight… except that part about being friends. She didn’t think she could do that, even for the sake of peace and harmony, but she’d said she’d try to fake it and she would.
Shelby scrubbed off her makeup and pushed her hair back from her face with wet hands. Life had been so simple until Ty drove back onto the ranch. So very simple.
If he was going to stay in Marietta, she was going to have to get used to seeing him. Get over this feeling that he was invading her turf—even if it was her turf because when he’d left, he’d essentially forfeited it to her.
He knows that. He’s trying to fix it.
Shelby didn’t want things fixed. She wanted back the life she’d had three days ago—a Ty-free life.
*
The next morning,Gramps beat Shelby out of bed, which wasn’t unusual despite the fact that she usually went to bed before him. What was out unusual was the stiff way in which he moved across the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. He set the cup on the old Formica table and eased himself down into the chair, grimacing a little as he settled. His expression froze when he saw Shelby in the doorway frowning at him.
“Did you strain something?” Shelby asked as she headed for the coffee pot. She was careful not to look at her grandfather as she spoke. The more casual she kept the conversation, the less concerned she seemed, the more likely she was to get the truth. Or something approaching the truth. Her grandfather was pretty stoic.
“Woke up feeling a little stiff.” He allowed, curling a hand around his coffee cup.
“Sleep wrong?” Shelby crossed the kitchen and sat in the chair across from him. She didn’t dare sip the steaming hot coffee she set down in front of her.
“That’s probably it.”
“I’m sure that explains the bruise on your arm, too,” she said mildly.
Gramps’s gaze dropped to his left forearm where a bruise was indeed blooming near his elbow. “Huh. Didn’t notice that.”
Shelby took a chance on the coffee and burned her tongue. She set the cup down and wished for the zillionth time that her grandfather liked drip coffee instead of the boiled cowboy coffee he’d grown up drinking. But if he was making the coffee, she was keeping her complaints to herself.
“What did you do?”
He gave a small shrug. “Want some eggs?”
“Wouldn’t mind.”
He started to push himself up out of his chair then stopped when the pain hit him.
So much for trying to fake out your granddaughter.
“Sit down. I don’t mind cooking.” She had to wait for her coffee to cool anyway. She got out of her chair and headed for the fridge. “You were about to tell me what happened to you.”
