Page 11 of Her Candy Cane Cowboy
“I’ll follow you.”
“Follow me? Why?”
“To finish the job. I’d never leave you hanging.”
She mutters under her breath what sounds like “whatever” and finishes checking out.
I follow her and discover I was right about the center being cold. I peel off my coat, drape it around her shoulders, then go adjust the thermostat.
“I’ll warm up as I work.” She clutches the coat lapels like she’s going to take it off.
“In the meantime, it’s cold in here. You get warm while I prep everything.”
She puts her hand on my arm but quickly jerks it away. “Thank you for being considerate, but I’m used to taking care of myself.”
“Before.”
“Before?”
“Before me.”
Ginger removes my coat and pushes it back into my hands. “My goal is to get revenge on you for that dildo incident, not to think of you as someone who’s kind.”
“You can do both. Take your revenge and yet still see the great human being that I am.”
She bends to pry open the lid on the paint can but not before I see her lips quirk into a half smile.
I stoop beside her and put the wooden stir stick into the gallon. “Are you planning on sticking around town a while?” I ask. Because if she is, I’ve got a change of address in my future. I’ll do whatever is necessary to stay wherever she’s at.
She shakes her head. “My hometown is Coyote Bend. I’ll head back there in time for Christmas.”
I’m delighted to hear that our hometowns aren’t far apart. “That’s on the other side of Clover County.”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“I’ve visited there.”
She frowns, “You don’t live in Clover, do you?”
Everyone knows that little town is bad news. “No. I’m in Lucky River. I own a ranch there.” I lift the paint can and pour some in the tray, then fit a roller onto a roller extension.
We work together for hours and as exertion warms her, she removes the green sweater to reveal a pullover shirt with a green and white flower pattern.
Finally, we get the wall done and while the second coat of paint is drying, I step back to admire the job. “You can’t tell where it was repaired or where the new paint begins.”
“My dad taught me how to do this kind of stuff,” she says. “He also taught me how to change a tire and the oil in my car. I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
And it’s how she says the word tomboy like someone suggested she was lacking in some way that bothers me. “You’re capable and sexy. That’s a hell of a combination.”
A dazed expression dawns on her face. “You think I’m sexy?”
“I do.”
Her teeth pull on her lower lip and hold it.
“Very sexy.” I grin as I gather the brushes and rollers to rinse them. “What’s next?”
She waves her hand around the room. “I have to get started on the party décor. Last night, after I went back to my room at Silver Bell Inn, I worked late on the layout.”
