Her Texas Cowboy. Jill Lynn
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“He’s a good kid.”
The kid part made her mouth lift. Hunter was eight years younger than Cash.
Her brother’s head cocked to the side. “Didn’t the two of you—”
“Yep. We did. But that was then. Nothing to do with now.”
Cash raised palms in defense. “Okay. Just...be careful.” He began to drone on about safety with power tools and being sure to ask Hunter about the sink, because it was leaking. And how they should wear masks when they painted. But Rachel was already light-years ahead of him.
They might have slightly different takes on his warning, but Cash didn’t have to tell her to be careful twice. Because that’s exactly what she planned to do.
* * *
Hunter left the door of the house open while he worked. The summer heat clung to him, and the light breeze brought in much-needed relief. He swiped the back of his arm across his forehead. Sweat changed places and he winced. Good thing he wasn’t trying to impress Rachel this time around. He was pretty sure he looked a mess. He’d come straight from the ranch, only stopping to nuke two of those sorry excuses for frozen burritos for dinner. He’d wolfed them down in his truck on the drive over, then wished he’d have made three.
He heard Rachel’s vehicle approach and turn off. A few seconds later, her footsteps sounded on the porch.
“Hey.” She paused inside the doorframe as though waiting for an invitation to come in.
“Hey.”
Hunter grabbed the water he’d brought along from the counter and took a long swig while Rachel stepped inside.
She wore a yellow T-shirt, cut off jean shorts and flip-flops. Her toenails were painted with bright blue polish, the color of one of those slushy drinks kids loved.
She walked over to the bedroom and peered in before facing him.
“You got a lot done.”
“Mostly just removed all the trash. It’s not so bad without the junk.”
“Sorry I’m late. Cash threw a hissy fit about me living out here alone. Like I’m not old enough to take care of myself or something.”
Eye roll. Hair toss. Hunter bit down on his amusement since Rachel wouldn’t take kindly to it. He might doubt his fair share of things, but he was certain of that.
“You’re fine. I just got here. Did you work it out?”
She’d bent down and started looking through the paint cans he’d brought over. “Yep. Where’d you get all of this paint? I should pay you for this. Cash said he’d cover supplies since he’s the one benefiting. Said to tell you thanks for helping out.” She paused. Let out an audible breath. “And that anyone who puts up with me should get a medal for it.”
Quiet laughter shook his chest. “He did not say that.”
She met his eyes, a smile tracing her lips. “He was joking. He did say thank-you, though.”
Hunter nodded toward the supplies. “There’s no need to pay for any of that. I had some stuff left over from my house. Didn’t buy a thing.”
“Your house?” Her tone carried surprise.
“Yeah, I built a few years back.”
“Don’t you live with your dad?”
“Nope. My house is on the west side of our property. Not too far from here.” Hunter knelt to look through the tool bag he’d brought. “You know my dad. He had his fists wound so tight he would never have let me have any ownership of the ranch until he left this earth. I threatened to work somewhere else if he didn’t let me buy in. I wouldn’t have, but he didn’t call my bluff.”
Rachel’s mouth swung open as if on a hinge. What had she thought? That he’d just sat around pining for her all of these years? Hunter grabbed an adjustable wrench, dropped to the floor and scooted the upper half of his body under the sink, wincing at his thoughts. Those old hurts always seemed to pop up with her when he least expected it. Friendship didn’t hold grudges.
“Cash said that’s leaking.” Her voice sounded hollow from his perch inside the cabinet.
“I can tell. That’s what I’m working on.”
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