Page 56 of Saltwater Cowboy

“You didn’t tell me dinner was ready,” she muttered through the wall between us, an edge still clinging to her voice.

“Check your phone.”

A pause. Then, a quiet, “Oh.”

I shrugged, eyes on my book. “Didn’t know if you’d be eating or not.”

Another pause. Then, softer—“Thank you.”

I needed help on this farm. If giving Rose space was the way to get it, I’d take that trade.

I let the quiet settle again, flipping a page without really reading it. In the kitchen, Rose ate in slow bites, her fork barely scraping against the plate now. Granger had curled up at her feet, his tail thumping lazily against the floor every so often.

I quietly leaned so I could see around the wall and glanced at her, just for a second. Her shoulders weren’t as tense as before. That was something.

The wind rattled against the windowpanes, the old house creaking in response. The storm was still rolling in, thick clouds swallowing the moonlight.

“Does it always sound like the house is about to fall apart?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Only when it storms.”

Rose huffed. “That’s comforting.”

I smirked, eyes flicking back to my book. “Takes a lot more than wind to bring this place down.”

She didn’t respond, just took another bite. I could tell she was winding down, the exhaustion catching up to her.

Rose had a long day ahead of her tomorrow and I don’t think she was the least bit prepared.

COWBOY LIKE ME

I swallowed the last bite of food, sitting in silence as I let the flavors settle. I had to give it to Wells—he knew how to cook. My own kitchen skills never developed past the basics. I was a master of cereal assembly and takeout orders. My parents used to joke that the only thing I could make was a reservation and that still holds true.

Scraping my plate into the trash, I rinsed it before tucking it into the dishwasher. Then, with a deep inhale, I made my way into the living room. Wells was still on the couch, nose buried in a book. I tried to make out the title, but the cover was just out of sight.

“Thanks again for dinner.” My voice was quiet, reluctant.

“Not a problem. I like cooking.” He set the book down, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to hide in your room, y’know. You can use the house however you’d like.”

“I know,” I snapped. “We’re not friends.”

His expression didn’t change. “I’m painfully aware.” He leaned back against the couch. “Think of this like a dorm. Just two people working together who happen to live across the hall.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want Wells as a friend. He’d seen me at my lowest, and the embarrassment still sat heavy in my chest. It was easier to keep my walls up than to try to make peace. Just looking at him reminded me of the worst day of my life.

“Fine,” I muttered. “And there will be no funny business.”

His brows lifted. “Definitely no funny business.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I don’t know you, but I’m not a bad guy. I just need help on this damn farm. It’s too much for one person.”

My eyes narrowed. “What time should I set my alarm?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “5:15.”

I gasped at him. “I didn’t know that when I agreed to this.”

“You live on a farm now, Sunshine. We’re up before the sun.”

I spun on my heel. “This was a horrible idea,” I muttered, stalking toward the stairs.