Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(63)
I spit the liquid out, wiping the back of my hand across parched lips. “Somebody tell me why the weather here jumps from freeze-your-dick-off cold to sweat-your-balls-off hot with hardly any time in between.”
“Think about how Vegas feels having to lug your ass around while you sit there and look pretty,” Red shouts over his shoulder from where he’s doing a quick farmer fix on a broken chunk of barbed wire.
“You think I look pretty?” I bat my eyelashes at him, and he halfheartedly tosses a clump of dirt at me in response. “Cass is going to be so jealous when I tell her you’ve been checking me out all day.”
“Has the heat gone to your head?” He mounts his horse and sprays me in the face with water from his bottle before taking a swig. Despite how warm the water is, it’s surprisingly refreshing.
“Wish we could blame the heat for the shit that comes out of his mouth,” Jackson quips. “We probably should head back, eh? Storm’s getting awfully close.”
I nod. “Yeah, good call. I need to head to town, anyway.”
Jackson gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything.
“Doctor’s appointment?” Red smirks.
“Something like that.”
Denver: Is Fancy by Reba still your go-to drunk karaoke song?
Blair: Oh God. I’m going to crawl into a hole now.
Blair: I regret telling you to ask questions
Denver: That tells me all I need to know. Thank you.
Denver: Also, will you be busy in about an hour?
Blair: Depends whether your plans involve singing
Denver: Just you singing my praises
Freshly showered, I run a hand through wet hair and slap a ball cap on. Then head out of my room, passing a bunch of ranch hands in the bunkhouse kitchen on my way out the door. They’re drinking beer and playing poker, and all of them stop to stare at me in my clean clothes and going-to-town boots.
“Where ya off to?” Colt cracks a beer, leaning against the closed fridge.
“Appointment.” I roll my shoulder, wincing as if it’s bothering me.
“Again? Damn. Guess you’re an old man now—body’s falling apart.” He takes a swig. “Grab a two-four of beer on your way home.”
I give him a thumbs up before stepping out into the midday sun and crunching down the gravel to my pickup. She fires right up, and I roll the windows down for a breeze on the drive to Wells Canyon. Pulling up in front of Blair’s clinic exactly an hour after my initial text message, I grab the bags of stuff I paid way too much for at the home goods store down the street.
“Afternoon.” I smile at the receptionist, who eyes me up and down as I stroll across the empty waiting room. I wrestle the bags in my arms, trying to determine how I’ll be able to open the door into Blair’s office. “Do you, uh…mind getting this door for me? Hands are a little full here.”
She leisurely rolls her desk chair backward and stands, not caring at all that I’m struggling with an armful of shit, then takes her sweet time getting to the door. Here I thought I’d be a nice guy and do it all in one trip, save her from hearing the front door chime repeatedly. Not doing that again.
“Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth as I bump the door with my hip so it opens all the way. Then I swing my heel to close it in her face.
“Hey.” I toss the bags onto an old armchair in the corner and tear into them. “Keep working, I’ll be quiet. Just have some things I need to set up here.”
I pull a small lamp from a bag and step lightly across the floor to place it on the empty part of her bookshelf. Then another for the back of the room. A larger lamp for the corner of her desk.
Blair sits back in her chair, clicking a pen repeatedly and watching me move around the room. “What are you doing?”
“You hate the overhead light, but there’s no way straining to do work with this one shitty lamp on your desk is good for your eyes. And obviously I want you to be able to see how handsome I am for many more years.” I flick the switch on the new desk light, filling the space with bright, warm light. “Better. Now keep working. You’re taking a lunch break as soon as I’m done.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I give the sour look right back until she gives up and returns to work. And I continue on, plugging lamps in and putting together the fancy coffee machine I was finagled into buying at the store.
“Is that an espresso machine?” Blair wheels her chair over to where I’m unwrapping a package of coffee pods.
“Apparently so. I told the lady at the store that you needed a coffeemaker, so you don’t have to go out to buy coffee when you’re in the zone with work. And she insisted this was the only acceptable thing to buy.” I step back to look at it. “Although now I think she earns commission and saw an opportunity.”
“You do have the face of a sucker with a lot of money to spend.” Blair laughs, and I swear to God, I should record it to play on repeat forever. Sure would’ve made the morning of fixing fences a lot nicer.
“For sure. She looked at me and said, ‘This looks like a millionaire who works as a cowboy for the thrill of it.’?”
Getting up from her seat, Blair slowly fingers the various controls on the machine. And I step in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and breathing in the subtle scent of her hair. Resting my chin on her shoulder, the silky, light pink blouse catches on my short facial hair, and I press a kiss to her ear.