Page 11 of Cowboys Next Door

I nod. “I agree. I can look into Rose more.” I’m more tech-savvy than Eli, so I wouldn’t put that task on him. “But let’s be real here. It’s not like Katherine has much for the taking. What’s the worst that Rose can do?”

I wave my hands around the failing lot to prove my point, and Eli gives me a strange look.

“What?” I demand. “Even if she takes the land, how much can it be worth?”

“I guess,” Eli agrees. “And she’s probably who she says she is…”

“Plus, those eyes—” we both say in unison.

We share a grin. We have always had the same taste in women, and in the past, we’ve even shared women. It isn’t conventional, but it works for us.

Eli’s smile fades first, and he pivots south, over the creek where his sprawling ranch lies. I stare after him for a moment, half tempted to return to the house now that he’s gone, but I think better of it and make my way east.

As I head over the small hill, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, and I turn. A curtain on the second floor ruffles, and a blonde head moves back from the window.

She’s watching me,I think, inordinately pleased, a swagger filling my steps as I wander away.

Several of my horses race along the interior pen as I enter the property line, two of my ranch hands tending to them. I pause to ensure the chickens are accounted for, ushering them back into their coop for the night, the sun sinking lower into the sky.

Matters are calm on the home front, and I arrive at my massive ranch house just as the last spray of sunlight falls beneath the horizon. Bounce, my golden retriever, and Silo, my boxer, rush toward me, tails wagging.

“Good evening, boys,” I greet them, closing the glass door in my wake. “Did I hear someone ask for treats?”

Both dogs bark in concession, and I laugh, ambling toward the pantry for my promise. A letter catches my eye, and my grin fades as I pull the bag of biscuits out of the closet. Silo barks again, and I shush him, absently opening the package, throwing a treat to each of the sitting pets.

“Off you go. Do your business,” I tell them, setting the bag down on the marble countertops and grabbing for the letter on top. There’s no stamp on the corner, and my blood pressure spikes.

“Oh! Mr. Adams! You’re here.” Cara appears in the kitchen, a scrub brush in hand.

I glance up and hold the letter in my hand with a scowl on my face. “Who dropped this off?”

She balks slightly, surprised by my terseness. “I’m not sure, Mr. Adams. It was on the front step when I went out to clear the cobwebs.”

Sucking in a breath, I rip the letter open with a shake of my head.

“Did I do something wrong?” the maid asks, paling at my reaction.

“Oh, no. No, not you,” I reassure her, flashing her a quick smile. “Thank you for today. I left an envelope with your pay in the dining room. Did you get it?”

She exhales with relief and nods. “Oh, yes. Thank you, sir.”

“Stop with that ‘sir’ nonsense. Just call me Connor.”

“Yes, Mr. Adams. Good night.”

She retreats from the kitchen, and I pull the note from the envelope, seething with every word.

Over my dead body, you sons of bitches,I think, tossing it aside before I can finish it.You all can go straight back to hell where you came from.

But for all my bravado, my determination not to let this latest correspondence bother me, I can’t deny that I’m troubled by their gall.

They’re not bothering with registered mail and lawyers anymore. They’re venturing onto the property in broad daylight without a care for who sees them.

And I can’t be the only one they’re harassing.

Maybe it’s time to call on the neighbors and see how far this has gotten, much as I’ve avoided doing that up until now. My philosophy has always been that it’s better to face problems when problems arise, but this is becoming too much.

Bounce paws at the back door, and I stare at him as Silo slips back through the doggie door. The retriever whines, scratching at the door again as he cocks his head hopelessly.

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