Brokedown Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ him and slap him at the same time.

      “There are no guarantees.” And she couldn’t argue with him about that. Because he knew it was true. He knew it was true more than anyone. “That barn was something that Jessie and I both wanted for this ranch. I dreamed about something like that. I hated that I had to get it through tragedy. With the money from my old man dying. Hell, who would want that? But I had it. Eli, Kate, they gave their share so that I could have that. So that we can take this ranch and make it better. And then Jessie died, and all of my plans went to shit. Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

      It was hard to describe the kind of desolation he had felt when he lost Jessie. The way the future felt as if it had been erased. But then, there was more to all that than he could tell Liss. More to all of it than he could ever tell anyone.

      Because everyone had grieved with him over Jessie’s death. He didn’t want to add to it.

      “Connor, I know you’ve been through hell. I remember what a big deal it was to you to have that barn built in the first place. How bittersweet it was, because of your dad. I was there. I remember how excited you were, how excited Jessie was. I remember all of your plans. I know all of those dreams that you had are still somewhere inside of you.”

      Pain washed over him, through him. Because he wished what she was saying was true. The simple fact was that those dreams were gone. Dead and buried. He was just doing his best to get through the day. To work the ranch.

      The fact that he got up every morning and did his work was about the only thing that separated him from his dad.

      The thought was like spikes of barbed wire pushed under his fingernails. He wasn’t like his dad. Michael Garrett had checked out of his children’s lives completely when his wife had left. Leaving the ranch to rot, leaving his kids to take care of themselves, while he drank himself into a stupor on the couch.

      Connor took care of the ranch. Connor didn’t have children to neglect.

      He rubbed his hand over his heart, trying to ease the intense pain that was spreading from there and moving outward.

      “I don’t really have dreams anymore,” he said, feeling stupid talking about this. He wasn’t the kind of guy to drag his feelings out into the open and examine them. He didn’t even like to examine them by himself, under the cover of darkness.

      “That’s not what I want for you,” she said, her tone all sad and desperate.

      “I can’t... I can’t.” She looked down, blinking rapidly. Great, he had made Liss cry. “Don’t cry for me, Liss. I don’t even cry for myself.”

      “Then somebody should cry for you,” she said, looking back up at him, her eyes shining.

      “No way. Cry over something that’s worth it. Cry over puppies that are left in the pound, and ice cream scoops that fall off ice cream cones. But don’t cry over me.”

      “I can’t make any promises. Connor, the money is going to come soon now. Promise me that you’ll get the barn rebuilt. Or go to Hawaii.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, get the barn rebuilt.”

      “Why, because Jessie wanted it?”

      “No, because you wanted it.”

      He had wanted it, though he could barely remember wanting much of anything. Could barely remember being the man he’d been three years ago, ready to start a new phase of his life, everything stretching ahead of him all bright and sunny and new. Instead of a wasteland of routine, of loneliness and grief that never seemed to ease no matter how much time passed, no matter how much he drank.

      “It’s hard to remember back that far. Or at least it’s difficult to remember why I cared.”

      “You cared because this ranch is in your blood. It still is, Connor. I know it is.”

      “Right now the ranch is just under my skin. I spent hours trying to get damn cows back into their pens. Not coincidentally I want to eat a hamburger.”

      Liss clapped her hands together. “Right. So let’s make the hamburger happen. The question is, do we want to go to Ace’s? Or the diner?”

      “I sort of feel like throwing sharp things at a corkboard. So I vote for Ace’s.”

      This was good. If they went out, there would be no more chance for talking. Because there would be too much laughing, and drinking and interacting with people who weren’t him. So Liss wouldn’t be able to hold him under the microscope to the same degree she just had. Their conversation had gone to way too much of a navel-gazing place.

      Liss pulled a bright pink rubber band from around her wrist and quickly swept her hair up into a ponytail. “I should just go put some makeup on.”

      “What do you need makeup for?”

      “If the barn needs painting, you have to paint it, right?”

      He stood and stared at Liss, standing there fresh-faced, and damn pretty in his opinion, and puzzled over why she would need painting. “Natural wood is good, too,” he said, somewhat lamely. He was bad at complimenting people. He was out of practice. Not that he’d been all that good at it even when he was in practice.

      “Thank you,” she said, her cheeks coloring a little bit. “I think I will at least add a little bit of stain, though. I don’t know. This metaphor has gotten weird.”

      “Okay, you go paint. I’m going to hop in the shower because I smell. I’ll only be about five minutes.”

      * * *

      THE BAR WAS CROWDED, as per usual on a Sunday night. It was very likely most of the town had gone from church straight to drinking. But likely it was needed to get them through the workweek that lay ahead.

      But in spite of the impending doom of Monday, the atmosphere was exuberant. Country music was playing over the jukebox, almost every table filled, a small crowd gathered by the dartboards. Some people were still in coveralls, wearing the evidence of the day’s labor, while some were still in suits and ties, evidence of labor of a different sort.

      All the bits and pieces of Copper Ridge collided here, and it was easy to see why.

      The whole bar had a rustic feel to it, knotted wood on the floor and on the walls, exposed beams on the ceiling. There was half a red rowboat mounted to the ceiling, old fishing nets spilling out of it. It was everything a coastal hole-in-the-wall needed. And, in defiance of its hole-in-the-wall appearance, it had darn fine food.

      “You know what you want?” Connor asked.

      “Fish-and-chips. Tartar sauce and malt vinegar.”

      He nodded once. “Snag a table, will you?”

      “Sure. Just a Diet Coke to drink.”

      He nodded again, walking over to the bar. She couldn’t help but watch him go. He had put on a plaid button-up shirt, pushed the sleeves past his elbows, revealing that tattoo that fascinated her so much, and the muscles that fascinated her equally.

      Only Connor knew what the tattoo meant. He’d come back home one Saturday with the start of it and finished it over the next few СКАЧАТЬ