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“No, I don’t suppose you would be.” Mr. Swanson chuckled as he appraised Mike. “There will be some documents you need to sign to make everything official and transfer the deed into your name. You should be aware that there are taxes and closing costs. Will that be a problem?”
Mike grimaced. He didn’t have money to draw from. In fact, he’d probably have to take out a loan. And that meant finding a means to pay it back. He’d have to get a better-paying job—maybe two.
He nodded once more. “I’ll make sure I have something lined up for our next meeting.”
Mr. Swanson didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t have to be. Mike was going to make this work if it was the last thing he did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rose held her cup of coffee in her hand and watched as Becca typed on her computer across the table. She was completely immersed in the story she was writing. The joy on her face couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.
Why did everyone around Rose seem to have it all together? Her brother even knew what he was doing with his life, and he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted for as long as she could remember. No one around her seemed to be struggling to get their life on track.
Was it supposed to be this hard for her? It didn’t seem fair.
She picked up her mug and took a long sip, but the hot liquid didn’t bring the comfort she was seeking. Her last conversation with her brother hadn’t been her best moment. They’d argued then stuck a pin in their conversation and hadn’t brought it up again since.
Ethan might not be willing to admit that he was upset with her over the money he’d spent to get her out of debt, but she could tell he held some resentment. How could he not? It made sense that he wanted her to be cautious with her next life choices.
She’d been wrong about the gallery. She’d been wrong about her art. And she’d been wrong about Mike. There was nothing else she could say on the matter.
Rose took another sip and let out a sigh. She turned her complete attention to Becca, watching as she scrunched her face, scowled, or smiled as if she was the character she was writing about. Her expression probably mirrored the characters more than she realized.
Currently, she didn’t look thrilled. The anguish in her gaze, the way her lips turned downward, it was all so… inspiring.
Rose’s fingers twitched. If there were a pad of paper and a pencil nearby, she would have picked it up and started drawing. She’d carefully sketch the outline, then she’d darken the lines around Becca’s eyes to really demonstrate how much pain she seemed to be experiencing. There was a softness to her other features, and those would be harder to blend with the way her eyes drew all her attention.
No. Rose shook her head sharply and shot out of her seat. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Becca jumped, her eyes wide as she stared up at Rose towering over her. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Rose muttered. “I’m fine.” She needed to get out of there before she gave in to her twitching fingers. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing, anyway.
She’d told herself when she’d gotten up that morning that she was going to get to work applying for jobs. As much as she hated the idea, she planned to head out to the hardware store. Any job was better than nothing. And working for those folks would fit that description perfectly.
She took her mug to the sink and headed outside. Fresh air might be enough to clear her head from all the feelings swirling inside her. It was still early, and the cold humidity of the morning sent a surge of energy through her body.
Today, she’d come to Sagebrush—anything to get out of the house and not sit around moping. Except that was exactly what she had been doing. There was no running away from what she was feeling.
Rose stopped walking, standing like a statue in the middle of the path that would take her to the barn. Since moving to Rocky Ridge, she hadn’t managed to find even one reason to stay. She didn’t love it here. She hated her job. She’d been miserable the whole time—until she’d started helping Mike.
But it wasn’t just the cleaning up and finding purpose in something she cared about. And it wasn’t the fact that she’d developed feelings for him. It was more than that. The only thing that made sense was that she’d let her artistic side wake up again.
Rose squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the emotions that threatened to escape. She couldn’t tell if they were happy tears or sad tears. Happy because she had finally allowed herself to accept that the artistic world was where her heart belonged, but just as strong was her disappointment at losing all faith in herself.
She shook her head to clear it. Just because she’d failed at something didn’t mean she couldn’t try again. Mike had helped her see that.
Her heart constricted with the thought of him. Even if he hadn’t turned out to be the person she’d thought he was, she’d continue to miss him.
Rose pushed the dismal thoughts aside and continued toward the barn. If she was lucky, there would be a horse in need of a walk that she could take off the hands of the stable boys.
As she got closer, she heard the distinct male voices of her cousins and Ethan. But more alarming than that, she heard both her name and Mike’s. She stopped short of entering the building and leaned against the wall. Her ears strained to hear as much of the conversation as she could.
“I don’t care what you say, I think he needs a little reminder of how we treat women here in Rocky Ridge.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not going to have an intervention. Rose would hate that. And I’m not sure she’d even listen to anything we have to say.”
“But Mike used her. Can’t she see that?”
