Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 8

  I’m halfway up the porch and almost to the screen door when I spot the old Jeep sitting to the left of the house. It’s empty, and there’s no sight of the city doctor with the ridiculous high heels and curvy hips.

  Did she already hit the fucking road and head back to wherever she came from?

  My stomach clenches with something that feels a lot like disappointment, but I write it off as utter nonsense. There is no way in fucking hell I wanted Dr. Leah Levee to hang around here and bug me every day about my leg. I need her doctor help like I need a goddamn hole in my head.

  I can’t deny, for most men, her curvy body is something dreams are fucking made of, but I don’t have time to busy myself with that kind of shit.

  I have a daughter to raise and a ranch to run and a prideful son of a bitch by the name of Tex Jameson to let know how I really feel about him inserting himself into my business and hiring a doctor to take care of me like I’m some kind of fucking kid.

  Fourteen-year-old boy, my mind muses, and I shake my head on an exasperated sigh.

  If there’s one thing I can agree on about my daddy, it’s that he never fails to get real creative with his bullshit.

  Once I’m in the house, I head down the entry hall toward a kitchen full of the kind of laughter and chatter only my mom and Joey can get into that quickly. I swear they’ve both got the gift of the gab.

  I round the corner into the kitchen to find Joey bouncing at my mom’s side as she stirs a pot on the stovetop. It smells delicious, and I have to admit, I’m thankful for the fact that I didn’t have to make something for Joey and myself tonight. After all the excitement of this afternoon, my knee is sore as hell and my back aches from overcompensation.

  “Tex, Rhett, take a seat at the table. Dinner’s just about ready,” my mom calls over her shoulder as she pulls cornbread out of the oven.

  “Good to see ya, Rhett.” My dad offers a friendly grin my way as he gets up from his recliner in the living room, slaps me on the shoulder, and takes his seat at the head of the table.

  Has he lost his damn mind? Or is he honestly getting old enough that he’s actually forgotten the shit he pulled today?

  I stand there, staring at the scene before me.

  I feel like I’ve been shoved into an episode of fucking Leave It to Beaver. Everyone is just acting like there’s nothing wrong with how this day has gone—like I wasn’t the center of a setup the likes of which professional criminals have never even seen.

  “Sorry I’m a little late,” a voice calls from the front hall, making my back pull up even straighter.

  That better not be who I think it is.

  Eyes narrowed, I turn to look down the hall toward the front door and find all of my suspicions are unfortunately true.

  Bottle of wine in hand, city doctor Leah Levee looks up from taking off her shoes by the door and stumbles under the weight of my hard stare.

  “Leah!” Joey yells, shoving past me and barreling right into the center of Leah’s long, tanned legs.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Daddy, now Leah can show me how to braid my hair after dinner!” my Joey exclaims, and it takes everything inside me to force a half smile to my lips and offer a small nod.

  I can feel Leah’s eyes looking directly at me, but I refuse to acknowledge her presence with eye contact. Not fucking happening. I’ve already made it more than clear to her where I stand with her being on my ranch.

  “All right, everyone sit down,” my mom instructs again, and when Joey keeps standing there, smiling up at Leah, my annoyance starts to get the best of me.

  “Joey, you heard your grandma. Take a seat,” I say, and I hate how stern my voice sounds.

  But fuck, I can’t help it. My daughter is taking to this city doctor like she’s God’s motherly gift to little girls, and I’m hatin’ every damn second of it. Soon, Dr. Leah Levee will be gone, and the last thing I need is for my Joey to have some kind of misplaced disappointment about a complete stranger. She already has more than enough disappointment to handle when it comes to her mother.

  Joey pouts but listens, trudging down the hallway with the excitement of a sloth. Leah follows cautiously, skirting past me with a nod of her head when I make no effort to get out of her way. It takes me a minute, but eventually, I force myself to move in the direction of the table, if only to take a seat and some of the stress off my throbbing leg.

  My mom carries over a plate of cornbread, setting it at the center of the table, and smiles up at the new arrival, who’s taken a seat at the table next to my daughter.

  “Leah, I’m so glad you made it. My car didn’t give you any trouble, did it?”

  Leah shakes her head and reaches down beside her chair for her purse. “Not at all! Let me get you the keys before I forget.” She holds them out for my mom, who takes them with a smile.

  “I see you brought a bottle of wine too.”

  “Yes, I hope that’s okay. I managed to pick this up in the gift shop before my flight out here, and I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “Leah, did you know my granny makes the best cornbread in the whole world?” Joey interrupts, bouncing up and down on the surface of her chair.

  “I didn’t know that, but I’m not surprised.” Leah smiles at Joey and leans across the table to whisper conspiratorially. “She brought me some blueberry muffins earlier today, and they were the best muffins I’ve ever had.”

  Joey giggles.

  “Jenny, you made muffins and didn’t share any with me or Josephine?” my dad questions, a teasing tone to his voice, and when my mom brings the pot of chili over to the table, she proceeds to smack him across the shoulder with a kitchen towel.

  “I saved a few for Joe, but you don’t need any more muffins, old man. I know you snuck three of them from my basket before I could take them up to Leah’s.”

  Take them up to Leah’s?

  Like the damned doctor now officially lives on the ranch?

  What is happening right now?

  She hasn’t even been here a fucking day, and it’s like they’re just making her a part of our family.

  Anger floods my bloodstream, and I can feel the vein at the center of my forehead start to throb. It takes everything inside me not to let everything I’m currently feeling explode from my lips like a bomb.

  I only manage to sit there for another few minutes with my mama talking to Leah about when she usually heads into town to get groceries before I can’t take it anymore.

  Up from my chair, I push myself to standing and meet my dad’s eyes. “I need a word with you.”

  He furrows a brow. “We’re eating, son. We’ll talk after we finish.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We’ll talk now.”

  I don’t wait for his response.

  Instead, I head straight out of the house, moving as fast as my braced-up leg will allow, and I don’t stop until I’m on the front porch and the screen door slams shut behind me.

  It’s not long before my dad makes his way outside, and the scowl that mars his face nearly makes me laugh. The fact that he has the audacity to look that pissed at me for the crap he’s trying to pull is downright hilarious.

  “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

  “The fact that you look pissed at me,” I retort.

  “You’re damn right. You don’t leave your mother’s table in the middle of the meal she’s worked hard on, and you definitely don’t do it in mixed company. I swear to Christ, I don’t even know if the boy I raised is in there anymore.”

  A harsh laugh is jarred free from my lungs. “You hire some fucking doctor behind my back, tell her I’m a fourteen-year-old kid, force her on me, and invite her to dinner without even so much as a conversation with me about what you’ve done, and I’m the one whose behavior is in question?” I shake my head. “You’re gettin’ more delusional by the day.”

  “Son, I fuckin’ told ya, if you needed a babysitter, I’d hire ya one. Just be glad I was nice enough to saddle you with one
this pretty.”

  “I don’t need a fuckin’ babysitter!” I shout. “I need you to stop meddling in shit that you don’t belong in.”

  He scowls. “You don’t need a babysitter? You’re gettin’ on fuckin’ horses, for shit’s sake. You shouldn’t even be tottering around on the damn thing like you are, and you’re out there actin’ like you can rope the fuckin’ wind. Give me a break, Rhett. You’ll end up losing that leg if you keep pullin’ the shit you’re pullin’.”

  I turn away from him and run a frustrated hand through my hair, damn near ready to pull some of the strands straight out of my head.

  “I swear,” I mutter. “It’s a real talent that one man can be this infuriating all the goddamn time.”

  He laughs at that. “The feeling is mutual, son.”

  With a shake of my head, I grab the handle on the screen door and open it wide with a yank. It flies back and hits the house, and I don’t bother looking back or apologizing for it. I head straight for the kitchen, keen to get my daughter and get the hell out of there, but when I arrive, Joey’s sitting in Leah’s lap, smiling like she’s in heaven.

  My mom catches a glimpse of my face and stands up from the table to come toward me. Her voice is gentle, soft—goddamn traitorous—as she says, “I know you’re upset, baby. I was too. But I wouldn’t be condonin’ this if I didn’t think it was what’s best, you hear me?”

  I hear her all right, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want to retort with a growl.

  But my mama knows—seems like she always does—and puts a hand to my elbow softly. “Look at your baby girl, son. Look at the way that innocent baby looks at that woman and tell me that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know.”

  “She’s dazzled,” I rasp, the low, hard tone unmistakable in my voice, but my mom shakes her head and whispers again.

  “She’s more than dazzled, Rhett. She’s smart and she’s a good judge of character, and you know it. Look at her with unvarnished eyes and give this a chance. Give yourself a chance to get better,” she insists.

  I let my head fall back for a minute and blow out a deep exhale.

  This is complete shit. The whole situation. But I can’t seem to do anything but agree.

  “Fine,” I say, meeting my mom’s eyes again before glancing over her shoulder to my happy little girl.

  If everyone wants the city doctor to stay, she can stay. That doesn’t mean I have to accommodate her.

  “Can Joey spend the night with you tonight?” I ask, and my mom nods immediately.

  “Of course. Why?”

  Instead of answering, I turn to Leah and wait for her to look up and notice me. When she does, her eye contact sticks and holds.

  “How about this?” I ask her as Tex takes his seat back at the table. “If you can find me, you can treat me.”

  “Rhett,” my mom breathes, no doubt disappointed in my behavior as I turn and hobble my way straight out the door. I make my way down the porch steps and back to my truck, climbing in as gingerly as I can. I’ve just gotten my leg swung inside and my hand on the door when someone grabs it and yanks it back open unexpectedly.

  “Do you mean that?” Leah asks, slightly out of breath from the jog out of the house.

  My eyes narrow. “Do I mean what?”

  “That if I find you, I can treat you.”

  I consider her for a minute, and she squares her shoulders under my scrutiny.

  This woman might have just become the biggest pain in my ass, but she has some thick skin, I can at least give her that.

  But that’s all I’m giving her.

  “Like I said, if you can find me, you can treat me.”

  She sticks out a hand for me to shake, and some weird part of me feels the need to clarify.

  “I don’t know if you really know what you’re signin’ up for, darlin’. You’re gonna have to find me more than once, and it’ll never be in the same place. Truth is, around here, I doubt you’ll even be able to keep up.”

  “I know what I’m signing up for,” she insists. “Now, shake my damn hand.”

  “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Our hands glide together, her fingers clutching around mine with a flash of electricity that zaps me all the way to the base of my spine. Leah snaps out a shake, then turns on her fancy heels and, hips swaying, heads right back into the house.

  Ready or not, here we go.

  June 22nd, Tuesday

  Leah

  I slug a sip of coffee from the to-go mug I found in the cabinet of my cabin and place it back in the cupholder of my updated ranch vehicle, a much, much newer F-150, with a fancy Shaw Springs Ranch logo emblazoned on the side.

  After an awkward but delicious dinner a week ago with Joey, Jenny, and Tex, Jenny ordered Tex to take me up to the lodge and give me a vehicle I could depend on. I can’t be sure, as I haven’t known the two of them for long, but if I were making an educated guess based on the light in Jenny’s eyes as she ordered it, I’m pretty sure the only alternative for Tex if he didn’t comply would’ve been death and dismemberment.

  That night, I drove home in my loaner truck, more than ready to step up to the challenge Rhett laid out—if I found him, I could treat him.

  Well, after seven days of attempting to chase him around the ranch, I’m finding it’s not as easy a task as I originally thought.

  Truth be told, I didn’t even think it’d be easy. I knew it’d be hard. I just didn’t think a full week would pass without me even getting a damn ice pack on his injured knee.

  He’s basically Carmen Sandiego, and I’m a clueless ACME agent always ten steps behind him.

  Where in the world is the fucking grumpy cowboy?

  Thankfully, after several days of figuring out his usual routine on the ranch, last night, after I managed to have a long conversation with Dr. Namath about Rhett’s current plan of care while I stood outside at one of the “good cell spots” on the map Tex gave me, I headed back to my cabin, made up a game plan, and tucked myself into bed immediately.

  If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t even be functioning right now.

  Sky still dark with the cool air of predawn, I flip through the pages of notes I made on Rhett’s case and glance up to his front door yet again.

  The house still seems dark to me and his truck is still out front, but after the difficulty I’ve had trying to find him, I wouldn’t put it past him to have snuck off to Mexico on a horse in the middle of the night.

  I check my watch. It’s almost five a.m., and the first light of the day is only about thirty minutes away. The one good thing about playing CIA agent for the past week is that I’ve learned the basic ins and outs of the ranch. I know the typical routine for the guests who stay here to get the “Dude Ranch” experience. And I also know that Rhett Jameson starts his days bright and early.

  “Come on,” I mutter to myself, admittedly eager to see Rhett choke on his freaking tongue upon noticing me out here.

  I won’t deny that when a person challenges me directly—especially when they goad me to take their bet and savor the taste of my perceived defeat prematurely—I turn into a bit of a maniac.

  Not in the manic sense, though—the calculated kind. I plot, I plan, I lay down a strategy, and I put in the work. Even if that means I have to play freaking stalker and sit outside his house at an ungodly hour of the morning.

  My brother Sam knows this best, perhaps, after making a simple bet with me about who had the better ability to consume a whole cake every day for a month without gaining weight.

  It was a dumb, childish contest at best, but holy hog heaven, did I take it seriously. I made three trips a day to the gym and limited my liquid intake to water only. Other than the cake, which there was a lot of, I gave up all other carbs, went high protein, and spent all of my off time hitting the weights.

  At the end of our joke, I’d turned into half a bodybuilder, and Sam had lost the definition in his precious abs.

  Basically, all I’m s
aying is that Mr. Cowboy doesn’t know what’s about to hit him because I don’t play around.

  A flash of light shifts in the darkness, and I look up from my notes, grab my coffee cup, and take another swig.

  A lamp shines through the curtains, and a shadowed figure moves slowly around the muted room. I can’t tell much about anything, but unless Chewbacca broke in to Rhett’s house in the middle of the night and took his place, I’m guessing that’s him.

  With the engine of my truck off, and all the lights out, I’m just a woman in the darkness for right now. But soon, so soon, Rhett’s going to get the sweet taste of making a deal with Leah freaking Levee.

  “Yeah, buddy. You don’t know who you’re messing with,” I taunt the empty cab and rub my hands together with glee. I will find a way to treat his damn leg, even if it kills me. Or I get arrested for stalking and he has a judge slap a restraining order on me. You know, whichever comes first.

  When the front door opens, my excitement crescendoes, and I reach forward to the dangling keys and crank the engine without thought.

  It roars to life, and unfortunately, so do the headlights, beaming Rhett in the face so hard that his body jerks to the side and he loses his balance on his good freaking leg.

  He goes down, and I scream inside the cab of the truck like a banshee.

  “Shiiiiit!”

  Scrambling, I grab the handle and shove the door open with my sneaker-covered foot, jumping down to the ground with a thud. I don’t bother with shutting the door as I rush toward him, my hand at my mouth and my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.

  Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Please let him not have injured himself even more. That would so be the definition of failing at my job.

  Come heal this guy, Leah, they say, and then I proceed to break him even more?

  Gah. Talk about a freaking disaster!

  As fast as my Adidas running shoes can take me, I run across the gravel of the driveway and up the stairs of Rhett’s front porch. The whole way, my mind repeats, Please, let him be okay! Please, let him be okay!

  When I reach him, he’s sitting up in the doorjamb with his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the wood. I hesitate to speak, given the fact that this is all my fault, but I really doubt touching him without permission is going to make this any better.