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“How else do you explain how they seem to know my routine, where my cattle are going to be and when? Or how to make it seem like an accident that those two heifers walked into some locoweed?” he muttered, and I placed a hand upon his arm.
He flinched from my unexpected contact. I quickly withdrew my hand as his eyes stared at the vacant spot on his arm. He clearly wasn’t used to human touch from someone who wasn’t family, much less a woman.
“So change up your routine. And only tell your most trusted confidants about the plan,” I replied, and he nodded, still staring at the spot on his arm. Gingerly, I returned my hand, and he closed his eyes, almost like he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone else initiate the touch. To realize only now what he’d been missing.
“I’ll have Cassidy and myself check fences and pastures every day. We will rotate who’s keeping an eye on things and keep the livestock agent up to date. Tenley, if I’m right, someone at that bunkhouse, or even a family member, could be behind this.” He shook his head. “It can’t be a family member.”
“It’s probably not family, Weston. They love this place as much as you do,” I answered, running a thumb back and forth over his arm.
He clenched his jaw and nodded, but didn’t answer. His eyes drifted over my shoulder once more towards that mantle of pictures and remained there. I let him live in his thoughts, as mine tumbled around my head as well.
Despite my reassurance, I wondered if it was someone from his family, upset that he’d inherited the ranch and not them. Remington actively passed on it, so that practically ruled him out. But Pearl and Cassidy were never offered the ranch since Weston had been next in line—although Cassidy was now foreman, second only to the owner. Rumor had it that Pearl wanted nothing more than to be a housewife, and if that was so, then she couldn’t care less about not inheriting the ranch. She lived here with her husband who was also Weston’s best friend.
No, it couldn’t be family. They eliminated themselves as suspects. So it had to be someone at the bunkhouse. I didn’t know who they were, only having worked with them once, but I assumed they were also pretty close to Weston since he let them into his life. They knew who he was outside of the town’s rumors, and I could only imagine how hard this was eating at him. Obviously, he valued trust, considering the way he’d exploded at me for a misunderstanding of what he thought was a lie.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Keaton popped his head over the top of the banister, holding UNO. He grinned widely, his hair damp from a shower, and emerged on the main floor wearing pajamas that fit him. I furrowed my brows and glanced at Weston, quickly removing my hand.
“I keep extra clothes in the guest room downstairs for my nieces and nephews.” He smiled as Keaton plopped down on the floor, in front of the wooden coffee table.
“The best sleepovers happen at Uncle Weston’s house!” Keaton added and pulled the cards from the box.
∞∞∞
I had lost horribly, practically every round. They had homemade rules that took me forever to figure out, but it was fun regardless. Weston had the largest smile on his face the entire time, and Keaton never once seemed perturbed by the unevenness of his grin. They joked like the best of friends, and I found myself watching the way Weston genuinely cared for Keaton to be so endearing and sweet.
Following the two of them down the carpeted stairs that twisted at the bottom, Weston flicked a light switch and the room was illuminated. To the left was another bathroom, a used towel had been plopped on the light beige tile clearly from Keaton. Simple, small, but functional.
The room that had been lit up was a small family room with a sectional that faced the wall that supported the stairs. A TV was placed on top of a dark brown stand, DVDs and an old PlayStation lined the bottom of the exquisite construction. Two doors across from the TV broke up the rectangular shaped room with more beautiful paintings along the walls. At the far side of the room, two large windows let in some light alongside the sliding glass door that emerged onto what I assumed was a snow-covered patio.
“Night, bud,” Weston said, wrapping his arms around Keaton and giving him a big hug.
Keaton spun to me and grinned. “Goodnight, Doc Tenley.” I smiled back before the boy disappeared into the room closest to the bathroom.
Weston faced me and nodded towards the other door. “That’s my room. You can take the bed for the night.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and headed towards the couch.
“Uh, no. This is your home. I can sleep on the couch,” I replied, racing towards the sectional and shoving past him.
“You’re my guest, so you get the bed.” He pulled his hands from his pockets as I plopped onto the couch, and he glared down at me.
“Your house, your bed.” I laid onto my back and stared up at him, grinning like I’d won. But his face told me something different.
His eyes bore into me, deep, piercing to my soul. A stern look on his face, not willing to back down, but not upset that I was arguing with him. No, he was definitely not upset, but what he was, I didn’t know.
“Sit up,” he growled, and I immediately did.
“Good girl,” Weston added and crossed his arms in front of his chest as my heart skipped a beat, and I stared in hungry shock. I was unable to say anything. Unable to do anything, no matter how much I willed my body to. “Now, you’ll sleep in the bed, and I won’t have any more arguments.”
I watched him for a moment, waiting for my stubbornness to kick in as a look of triumph caressed his features, which snapped my body back into gear. I leaned forward onto my arms and gazed up through my lashes, slowly. “How about we find a compromise? Because you won’t be sleeping on the couch either.”
He furrowed his brows. “Woman!” his word seeped in frustration combined with a hint of humor.
“So that’s a yes?” I grinned.
“Fine. Ideas?” He plopped himself down on the couch and watched me from the side.
“You could share a bed with Keaton?”
“It’s a twin size. You think I’d fit on that by myself?” he replied, raising his brows.
