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“Damn that was a tough day,” Casey said as they stood in the mudroom taking off their coats and muddy boots.
“You weren’t even there for half of it,” Sam grumbled.
“I told you I was showing Cloe around the ranch.”
Rome felt the same annoyance he’d felt earlier when Casey had told him what he’d been doing. That annoyance grew when he continued.
“And I’ll tell you what. She’s a damned fine horsewoman.” Casey tugged off his boot. “She had no trouble keeping up with me. She even helped me herd a calf back to its mama. When we got back to the ranch, she insisted on taking care of Lady Grantham. She unsaddled her and rubbed her down. Lady’s smitten with her already.” He grinned at Rome. “Of course, so am I.”
Rome didn’t laugh. “Shut up, Casey. I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit tonight.”
“Ooo, did I hit a sensitive spot, bro? If you weren’t going to take the time to show your new bride around, I figured someone should.”
“That’s enough, Casey,” Sam said. “Let’s get something to eat and get to bed. We have a long day of branding tomorrow.”
There wouldn’t be much to eat. Rome was the only one who went to the grocery store and he’d been a little busy. So he was surprised when he stepped into the kitchen and smelled something that made his stomach grumble with hunger. “What is that? It smells like . . .”
“Pie!” Casey strode over to the counter where what looked like a blackberry pie sat. “It’s official.” He leaned down and took a deep whiff of the pie. “I’m in love with your wife.”
Rome’s stomach growled as he moved closer to the counter and saw the oozing blackberries and flaky crust. There was a note sitting next to the pie.
Dinner is in the refrigerator. It just needs to be heated.
Casey read it at the same time as he did and let out a hoot of joy as he raced to the refrigerator. Dinner turned out to be pot roast and tiny little carrots in dark, rich gravy. Mashed potatoes and green beans were in separate containers.
Once they had filled their plates and heated them in the microwave, all three men hunkered down at the island and shoveled the delicious meal into their mouths. Even Sam looked like he was in heaven. Especially when the pie was divvied out.
“She can cook,” Sam said. “I’ll give her that much.”
“Wait a second.” Casey stared at their father. “Did Sam Remington just give a Holiday a compliment?”
Sam didn’t comment. He was too busy eating pie.
Once they were finished eating, exhaustion set in. Since Casey hadn’t exactly put in a full day, Rome left him to do the dishes while he and Sam headed up to bed. When they reached the top of the stairs, Sam looked at him.
“I wasn’t much on you marrying a Holiday, but if you get that land, it might not be a bad deal.”
Even though it was the truth, there was something about the way his father said it that didn’t set well with Rome.
“It’s not just about the land.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t tell me it’s love.”
It wasn’t, but for some reason, he didn’t want his father to know that. “It’s not just about the land,” he repeated before he turned and headed down the hallway.
He was dead tired, but when he passed his room and saw the light coming from beneath the door, he stopped and tapped softly. Cloe answered almost immediately. Her hair was braided in one long rope that hung over her shoulder. She was dressed in flannel pajamas that were covered in four-leaf clovers the same color as her eyes. Emily had always greeted him with anger when he’d worked late and missed dinner. Cloe’s eyes held nothing but relief.
“You’re home.” Her choice of words caused his chest to feel tight and he had to wonder if he should’ve eaten that second piece of pie. Her gaze raked over him from head to toe and he knew he must look like hell. “I guess it was a tough day. How’s your neck? I got you some ointment to rub on it at the general store. Mr. Crawley swears it makes his sore muscles feel better. I left it on the counter in the bathroom. You should take a hot shower and rub some on.”
He was so stunned by her kindness it took him a moment to find words. “Thank you. For the ointment and for supper. It was . . . good.” Good. That’s all he could come up with? Damn, he was tired.
Cloe didn’t seem offended. “I’m glad you liked it.” They stood there for an awkward moment before she cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” He waved weirdly before he turned and headed to his room.
He almost fell asleep against the shower wall while standing under the hot spray. After toweling off, he applied the ointment. It heated beneath his fingers and, with just a few kneading strokes, his neck started to feel better. Of course, if he didn’t want to wake up with it worse in the morning, he needed to add more air to the mattress.
Once in his room, he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs before he attached the small air compressor the mattress had come with to the opening on the side and turned it on. Figuring he’d be able to tell how much air it needed better if he was lying on it, he climbed onto the mattress and waited for it to reach the right firmness.
