“That’s me.” The stranger who’s smiling down at me rocks back on his heels and asks, “Is Nash here?”
Nash is here…but why would this guy be looking for him at this time?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. I thought Nash would be the one to answer the door.”
I swing the door open wider and speak in a hushed tone, “Why don’t you come in? I just made some coffee. Nash is still sleeping. Poor guy is tired.”
Max kicks off his boots on the porch, then steps inside the house. “Poor guy? It’s six in the morning, and he’s still sleeping? Is he sick?”
Why would someone need to be sick to be sleeping at that time?
“Um, no, he’s just had a lot going on,” I try to explain as he follows me into the kitchen.
Max walks past me and grabs a mug out of the cupboard as if he’s done it a thousand times. I guess if he’s worked here a long time, he probably has.
He pours a cup of coffee as he asks, “Did you guys get in late last night?”
“We got here around eleven,” I say as I reach for the coffee I abandoned earlier.
Max takes a sip of straight black coffee. “Oh, thank goodness. You made the coffee, didn’t you?”
“Yes?” It comes out as a question.
Max shakes his head. “Don’t let Nash near a coffeepot if you can help it. His sorry excuse for coffee is as weak as a pot of tea. It’s horrible.” Max shudders and takes another long sip. “Now, this? This is how coffee should be. Thick enough to make your hair stand on end.”
I chuckle as I run a hand throughmymessy hair. I planned on getting more put together before Nash woke up. Instead, I’m stuck chatting with his very handsome ranch manager in the kitchen.
“Nothing is worth drinking unless there’s good flavor.”
“Amen to that,” Max agrees as he gulps down some more coffee before setting the cup down on the granite countertop with a loud clink. “I’ll be right back.”
He starts through the living room and heads toward the stairs.
I set my cup down and hurry after him, whispering as he climbs those stairs, “Where are you going?”
Max glances over my shoulder and winks. “To wake up Nash, of course.”
My jaw drops at that, and I race up the wood steps as fast as I can. Max tries to match my pace, but I have the advantage—I’m barefoot, and he’s trying to race in thick socks. I reach the landing, a solid five stairs in front of him, and streak down the hall to spin around and plant myself in front of Nash’s door. I grip the doorframe as Max slides to a stop in front of me.
“You can’t go in there!” I whisper furiously.
“Why not?” he asks in a loud voice. “Is he naked or something?”
I glare at him. He’s got a big grin, and he looks like he’d love nothing more than to wake up Nash.
“Be quiet,” I hiss. “He needs his sleep.”
“I need him to come help me with roundup,” he says, his volume increasing with each word.
He must have majored inhow to be an absolute painin college. He’s doing very well in that career.
He steps forward as though he’s going to reach past me and open the door.
“No! Let the guy sleep,” I snap at him.
“You sure baby that man if you’re up and making him coffee first thing in the morning.”
I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t sleep, okay? Otherwise, I would have been upstairs sleeping, too, and not answering the door for people who have zero idea of how a clock operates.”
