Just a Cowboy. Rachel Lee
days. And no matter how often he made it clear that he was just a cowboy now, there was always some jerk who didn’t get the memo, at least once he was a little drunk.
Most folks hereabouts had gotten the memo and didn’t bring up the subject anymore. And that was just the way he wanted it.
He shook the thought away. One of the best things he could say about Conard County was that folks tended to drop things you wanted dropped. At least to your face. They might gossip like mad among themselves, but they wouldn’t keep bringing it up to you.
And he didn’t want to think about that right now. In fact, he’d have been happy not to think about it at all.
Settling into the tub full of hot water, he released a sigh and turned his thoughts in other directions. Like Ben Patterson, with whom he was going to have more than a couple of words soon. And his new tenant.
Kelly Scanlon. He liked the name but her very presence raised a lot of questions. He had honestly believed that Ben wouldn’t be able to rent that place at any price, warnings attached or not. It was barely livable, and just knowing there was someone over there now made him feel like a grade-A slumlord.
He’d agreed to list it because Ben had been full of talk about how people never moved overnight, that listing it would be good because the place was going to be ready in a couple of months.
That had made sense to Hank. Let people know the property would be available down the road. He’d agreed when Ben had said most people planned their moves in advance anyway.
So, yeah, it had made sense. Certainly, he’d never expected a total stranger to turn up out of the blue wanting the place right now, in its current condition, for only a couple of months. Weird.
And that weirdness made him think about Kelly Scanlon. Her nervousness when she’d opened the door. That haunted look in her eyes. That kind of woman seldom went begging for anything. Men would trip all over themselves to look after her.
Or maybe not.
He sighed, let his head fall back against the rolled-up towel he’d strategically placed on the edge of the tub, and closed his eyes.
Something was not right over there. The thought drifted through his mind, and since he hadn’t poured that shot of bourbon, he knew he couldn’t blame it on anything except instinct.
His instincts were sharp, honed by years of fighting fires. He never ignored them, unless someone else’s life was on the line.
And his instincts were trying to tell him that something was very wrong. Well, sheesh, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out, he supposed.
Woman comes out of nowhere—gorgeous woman, making it even odder—to rent a house just this side of condemned for a couple of months in a town in the middle of nowhere. Sure, that sounded perfectly normal.
He sighed again, sinking a little lower into the soothing water and raised his knees one at a time to loosen the kinks.
Okay, it was strange. It was also not his problem, beyond making sure she didn’t get hurt because of that house. Hell, was he ever going to roast Ben over some hot coals. How many times had he told the agent that the house was not completely safe?
It wasn’t likely to collapse on Kelly’s head, but things could happen. The termite damage, some of the dubious wiring, even a stove with a pilot light…
Dammit. He sat up suddenly, ignoring a spear of pain. He hadn’t gotten to that part. And he’d bet dollars to doughnuts that Ben had been real friendly and had turned the propane on for her. Not that it was all that bad. The thing had an automatic shutoff when the pilot went out, which was the only reason he hadn’t just ripped it out of the house already.
But still.
Oh, what the … He didn’t bother to complete the thought. The water was cooling down anyway, and he could take another bath if he needed to soak some more.
Rising, water sluicing off him in waves, he stepped out onto the mat and reached for a towel.
Five minutes later he was limping next door, water droplets still clinging to the ends of his hair.
Kelly didn’t want to answer the knock. It was getting dark outside, although the evenings were a lot longer here than she was used to. She didn’t even want to twitch a curtain back to look. She was well aware that all her attempts to evade a possible tracker might not have worked. Aware of all the times she’d had to present ID, then hit the road again the very next morning, following a crazy-quilt pattern around the country. What if her path hadn’t been random enough?
Even as she hovered in hesitation in the kitchen, she told herself that she was overreacting. No one knew where she was. She had tried to make darn sure of that. So the only person who could be at her door was her too-attractive landlord, the real estate agent who shouldn’t have rented to her or a kid selling something, and it was the wrong time of year for cookies.
The knock came again, more insistent this time, and finally she squared her shoulders and went to answer it.
Twilight bathed the world outside, the long endless twilight of the northern latitudes. The sun had gone down behind the mountains early, but that didn’t make the world completely darken. She had plenty of light by which to see Hank.
“I’m a fireman,” he said without preamble. “Well, I was.”
“Oh.” How was she supposed to respond to that?
“I’m just a cowboy these days,” he said rather insistently, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything.”
“Of course not.”
“I’ve got to tell you about the pilot light on the stove.”
Feeling confused, but strangely relieved to see him, she stepped back and waved him inside. For some reason she’d felt safer in cheap motel rooms than she felt in this house, something that surprised her. Maybe she’d found so much security in moving that she couldn’t feel it any longer when she held still. Or maybe there was a reason for the uneasiness that wouldn’t leave her alone. Maybe she needed to heed it until she could figure out where it was coming from.
“I just made some coffee,” she offered hesitantly.
“This won’t take but a minute.”
For some reason, as soon as they were in the kitchen, she pulled a couple of the mugs he’d leant her out of the cupboard anyway. “Black?” she asked.
“Yeah. Please.”
At least he hadn’t refused again. For the first time in ages she just didn’t want to be alone.
“Okay,” he said, lifting the stovetop to reveal the unadorned burners and gas lines. “The pilot won’t stay lit. I don’t know why, I don’t especially care because this thing is going. In fact, it’s going tomorrow and I’m putting in the new stove since someone’s living here.”
“I’m sure I can manage. You don’t have to do that on my account.”
His gray eyes pierced her. “Yes. I do. Gas is nothing to fool with.”
“No,” she agreed. He seemed to want her to come over, so she left the mugs on the table and went to stand beside him.
“This is an older model, obviously. It has separate pilot lights for the stovetop and the oven. I’m going to show you how to light them both. The stove also has an automatic shutoff if the pilot goes out when the burners are turned off. They built that safety feature in years ago.”
“Okay. Then there’s nothing to worry about.”
He shook his head. “Not exactly. I haven’t been in a rush to pull it out because no one was living here and I checked the automatic shutoffs. They seem to work properly. So no gas leaks when the stove is off, even if someone turned the propane back on. I’ll bet Ben turned it on for you.”
“I