Page 107 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“Because it’s filthy.” Her pretty laugh broke free. “You are the neatest, tidiest man I’ve ever met. If I leave a crumb on the counter, you sweep it up. I’ve never seen your hampers overflowing with dirty clothes. When you shave, there’s not a whisker you don’t rinse down the drain. But this truck . . .”

I shrugged. “It’s a ranch truck.”

Keeping it clean was practically impossible. Working in the dirt all day meant I’d inevitably bring it in on my boots. The same was true with straw and hay. And most of the time, I preferred rolling the windows down to using the air conditioner, so dust was a given.

“I like that it’s messy.” She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned across the console, kissing the underside of my jaw. “It makes you real.”

“I’m as real as it gets for you, Winslow.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her dark blue eyes softened and she leaned her cheek into my palm.

Neither of us moved. We just sat there, touching, our eyes locked as we soaked in the quiet moment.

Still moments had been scarce these past two weeks.

The topic of Briggs had mostly been avoided in that time. It was a raw subject, for us both.

Winn had done what she’d needed to do. She’d been right to put me in my place. Mom and Dad had both taken her side too. Yes, they’d called a lawyer, but neither had faulted her for asking Briggs some questions.

Since then, she’d spent some time hiking around Indigo Ridge and the trails that led from the cliff to Briggs’s cabin. She’d asked me first, giving me the same respect she would have any other land owner. Otherwise, she’d gone about doing what she needed to do while I’d focused on the ranch.

We were in the thick of summer haying. The swathers and balers were running from sunup to sundown. The end of July was always a hectic time. We were constantly moving cattle herds from one pasture to the next to ensure the grass wasn’t overgrazed during these hot summer days. Weeds had to be sprayed. Equipment fixed. One of our tractors had broken down earlier this week, so I’d spent the better part of two days with our mechanic, both of us covered in grease, working to get it fixed.

By the time I made it home each night, I was dead on my feet.

Winn had been busy at the station and spending time with Covie. She’d leave each morning, and the daily worry about her would settle in as an underlying current to the day. The distraction of work helped, but I wouldn’t really breathe until she was here. Under my roof. In my bed.

I liked that my house was becoming her place. A few nights this week, she’d beat me home. I’d find her inside, shoes discarded by the door and wearing one of my T-shirts, her own uniform top usually on the floor beside the hamper instead of inside it. One night she’d been on the porch, drinking a glass of wine.

Sooner rather than later, I wanted this to be her only sanctuary. Considering that the rest of her furniture had arrived at her house in town but she hadn’t unboxed it yet, I was taking it as a good sign.

“We’d better get these groceries inside,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She leaned in for one more kiss, then climbed out.

I met her at the tailgate, popping it open. As she looped plastic bags over her forearms, I did the same before following her inside. Then we came out for the second load since my fridge and pantry had been nearly bare.

“What’s this?” she asked, picking up the old hubcap Mateo had found weeks ago.

“Trash. You know the place I bought by Indigo Ridge, across the road?”

“Yeah.” She dragged her finger across the word Jeep, indented into the metal.

“That guy had about a million old cars parked all over the place. Mateo found that along the road that leads to the ridge. I think I’ll be finding rusted parts here and there for the rest of my life.”

“Ah.” She tossed it deeper into the truck bed before grabbing the last bag.

We worked together in the kitchen to unload. It was simple. Boring and dull. But something about going to the grocery store together, pushing a cart up and down aisles, about moving in tandem through the kitchen, made me fall for her just a little bit more.

Maybe because it felt like this space had been waiting for her all along.

“We bought all this food.” She stood at the open refrigerator. “And I have no idea what I feel like eating for dinner.”

I chuckled. “Steak and potatoes? I could grill.”

“Perfect. What can I do?”