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Chapter Six
Clarissa wasn’t exactly sure what she’d find in the little cabin next to her house. No one had lived in it for several months now, and Daddy had taken care of the place. She distinctly remembered people going in and out of it, but she couldn’t remember if they’d been a construction team or a housekeeping crew, as she’d refused to pay much attention to what went on next door.
“Daddy expects you to take care of the place,” she said as she reached to the top of the steps. “It’s not extravagant, but most of our cowboys share a cabin. This one is a little farther out, and it’s not as nice. It’s also smaller, as there’s no loft and only one bathroom. So he puts just one man out here.”
Spencer joined her on the porch, and claustrophobia immediately set in. He smiled as she turned toward the door. The roof covered the porch, but there was standing room only otherwise, and she couldn’t stomach being that close to him. The near proximity of him meddled with her mind, making her think all kinds of things she simply couldn’t think.
She remembered how much fun they’d had together once. She thought of his black and white dog, Boots, and how the dog would lick her face while she laughed in the cornfields. How Spencer would join her and the pup on the ground, and they’d look up into the blue, blue Texas sky and talk about anything and everything.
He’d kissed her for the first time in a cornfield, as those tall stalks could really provide a lot of privacy. Her blood heated as she entered the very non-cornfield interior of the cabin and looked around. It at least looked like it had been cleaned.
The scent of powerful cleaner mingled with pine—Daddy’s favorite disinfectant always brought the outside in.
“Kitchen in the back,” she said, waving her arm in that general direction as if Spencer couldn’t see it. He pressed in behind her, and Clarissa kept moving. “Only one couch, but it’s just you.”
“Yes,” he finally said after several moments of silence. They’d driven over to the cabins separately, because he wasn’t staying long. She expected him to take a quick inventory and then get out of her hair.
Her stomach flipped, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she needed some sort of antacid or perhaps a stomach transplant. Then it wouldn’t do weird things that made no sense. No matter what, every time she thought about Spencer, her dang stomach vibrated just a little bit, and now it had decided to play pancake and flip all over the place.
Spencer sat down on the couch. “This is nice,” he said, grinning up at her. He put his arm along the back of it, and Clarissa could see herself sitting in the blank space next to him. She blinked, and she remained there, her own face glowing with happiness.
“There’s a washer and dryer,” she said, tearing her attention from him. If he wasn’t so good-looking and so confident, Clarissa would have a much easier time defending her heart from him.
She crossed through the living room to the mouth of the hallway. The cabin on this side of the house was a box with four quadrants. “Two bedrooms, one in each corner,” she said. “Laundry room here, on the left. Bathroom on the right. One closet at the end of the hall.”
Spencer groaned as he got off the couch, and Clarissa retreated to the kitchen while he went to explore his house. The last thing she needed was to be caught with him in the narrow hallway or present while he chose a bedroom. She could only imagine the way her vital organs would react then, and she didn’t think there was any surgeon in the world who could replace everything so that it was Spencer-proof.
He returned to the kitchen, and she noted he still had on his cowboy hat. “There are hooks by both doors,” she said. “For your hat, jackets, whatever.” She indicated the back door. “This cabin backs up to the range, and it’s pretty quiet and peaceful here.”
“Is that why you live out a little farther from the rest of the farm?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Possibly,” she said, not wanting to give him anything. She’d have to work with him in close contact in the kitchen, and the walls she’d built to keep him out had already started to crumble.
She cleared her throat and turned back to the kitchen. “Go on and open the cupboards and see what’s here. I don’t really know much about it.”
“The bed was comfortable,” he said. “The extra room has a set of weights in it.” His eyebrows went up in a question. “I can use those?”
“I’m sure you can,” she said, her pulse quickening at the thought of him sweaty as he curled a barbell up to his chest. She backed up a couple of steps and opened the fridge. The stale air of the unused appliance hit her in the nose, and she flinched away from it. “Everything works, as far as I know.”
Spencer proceeded to open the cupboards like she’d suggested. He turned on the stove, the fire lighting quickly, and the oven, and yes, they both worked. The water sputtered for a moment in the kitchen sink, but then flowed nicely.
By the time he got to the fridge, Clarissa had wandered back into the living room. Someone had put up navy blue curtains with the Texas star on them, and she did give those a cursory smile. The couch faced the front door, with the TV directly beside it on the left, in the small space there before the wall jutted out. On the right, a large window took up that wall, and a small table had been placed against the wall perpendicular to that.
“This is nice,” Spencer finally said. “The carpet looks new, and it runs through the whole cabin. All the tile matches in the laundry room, the bathroom, and the kitchen.”
Clarissa could only nod. Daddy did like things to match. He’d probably redone the floors after the last cowboy had left.
“Who lived here before?”
“Clyde,” Clarissa said, her throat somewhat narrow. She’d been purposely avoiding thinking his name.
Spencer’s gaze flew straight to hers. “You sound like you didn’t like him.”
“I…liked him fine,” Clarissa said, her voice too high and too false.
Spencer’s dark eyes searched and searched, and Clarissa’s irritation with herself—and him—grew and grew. “I sense a story there,” he finally said.
“It’s not story time,” she said, folding her arms. “Are you done? I have to get back to work.” She had two clients coming that afternoon for their milk pick-ups, and she’d only gotten out one order.
