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She looked away and reached for the braid that had found its way onto her shoulder.
Taking a step toward her, he looped his rope onto his shoulder. “First of all, a cowboy is a man.” His voice had lowered, holding a huskier quality. “Second, I’m not against doing something that has to be done even if in the process I find myself in a gray area.”
A small chill raced down her spine. The way he’d said that sounded eerily familiar.
Just like the guys she’d hung out with when she’d been caught driving the people who were vandalizing the town. Her jaw tightened and she frowned at him. “I think most people would agree that they’d rather associate with boy scouts over a guy who doesn’t mind playing in a gray area.” What did Zeke see in this guy? There had to be something she was missing.
Yes, she’d been here for only a week. But while she had been staying under the Callahan’s roof, she’d picked up on a few things. Zeke was strict. More so than anyone else she’d ever met. He didn’t approve of his younger daughters dating before the older ones were spoken for. They had curfews, and according to him, they were perfect little angels.
Only, he wasn’t quite as informed as he thought he was. There were a few of his precious offspring who liked to bend the rules.
Which begged the question, did he know? And did he look the other way when his employees did the same?
The cowboy, whose name she still couldn’t place, scooped up a basket that she’d abandoned near the gate. He strode inside the chicken coop, leaving her gaping after him. Not one chicken charged at him. Not one feather was flung into the air as a show of aggression. He entered the coop and within minutes, he returned, his basket filled.
The gate swung open, then shut, and he shoved the basket at her. He turned his back and sauntered back toward the barn, whistling a little tune.
“I thought you wanted something,” she called.
He didn’t stop, though he twirled his wrist in the air and called back, “We can discuss that later.”
“I’m not giving you anything,” she threw back at him. “I mean it. I’m not.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could hear his laughter again.
That was not how she expected a cowboy to act. Although, he had met her challenge and collected the eggs for her.
Sarah stared down at the basket in her hands. Not one egg broken. Not one feather. Maybe he’d had a point. Did the chickens sense her desperation? She sought out his familiar form, but he’d already disappeared.
Well, if he thought she was going to do himanyfavors, he was sorely mistaken. She already owed these people too much. She’d do her time and get out of there as soon as possible. Living under the same roof as her mother was starting to look like a much better arrangement than dealing with the hooligans covered in feathers.
2
Dax
Her dark brown eyes were the soulful sort of eyes that were only fit for an innocent creature. But Dax knew better. Sarah wasn’t some harmless little doe who needed his protection. She was something else.
And he’d know.
He’d been to the darker side of things. There was nothing harder than returning and realizing just how good life was on this side of the fence. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off about her. As much as he wanted to see it in her eyes, he couldn’t.
Maybe that was why he needed to know more.
The problem was, either no one knew a single thing about her, or they knew but were remaining so tight-lipped that there wouldn’t be any chance at getting the information from them. Not even Sean had seemed to know anything more about Sarah than what Dax had been told, and the man wasmarriedto a Callahan.
Oh well, it didn’t matter. She’d slip up. They always did. And when that happened, she’d be booted from this ranch just like everyone else. Dax was the only one that Zeke tolerated on the premises despite his rough past. It probably had something to do with the fact that one of Zeke’s sisters had practically raised Dax.
No, they weren’t related. But Eve Callahan had a soft heart and no children of her own. She’d never married. And she’d never seemed like she missed out on any of that stuff. A twinge of pain sliced through his chest. The last time he’d seen her, he’d called her an awful name and ran away. When he finally returned like the prodigal son he was, the house she’d lived in was empty.
They said she’d had a heart attack.
He could read between the lines. That was code for she’d died from a broken heart. And he’d been the last one to leave. The pain that enveloped his heart grew stronger, and he had to focus even more not to let it overwhelm him. That was the trigger—the one thing that would put him on a spiral to a place he wasn’t prepared to go.
Dax spun around and left the barn. He needed a meeting. Just over five years sober and he could still be hit over the head with the urge to find mind-numbing relief in the bottom of a bottle. He strode toward his truck, not making eye contact with anyone. A glance at his watch confirmed that he could still make the morning meeting that was held at the church in town.
He climbed into his truck. Zeke would understand. They had an agreement. Dax only ever left the ranch if it was important. He didn’t hit any red lights, and by the time he pulled into the church parking lot, he was already feeling better. Dax yanked his keys from the ignition and strode inside. The meeting had already started. There were only half-a-dozen individuals in attendance—pretty normal for a Friday morning. Only there was one person who he didn’t recognize.
His steps slowed as he moved toward the chair closest to the door. One of the usuals was sharing and all eyes were on him, giving Dax the opportunity to observe the newcomer. Her blonde hair was cut short, almost buzzed clean off. She had a tattoo of two interlocking hearts on the inside of her wrist that she seemed fixated on. Her thumb traced over the tattoo, back and forth as she listened to the man who was currently speaking. Her continued fidgeting was setting him on edge.
