Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“There,” he said.
He released my ankle and stood, and for a moment, he towered over me, close enough that I caught the scent of leather, sweat, and sun-warmed skin.
“You need boots,” he said.
“I own shoes.”
“Then wear ’em.”
“You’re awfully bossy for someone trespassing on my property.”
He picked up the hammer. “Ain’t trespassing.”
“You don’t live here.”
“Close enough.”
“That isn’t how property law works.”
“Never cared much for laws.”
I snorted because, yeah, that was Ryder alright.
He returned to the railing while I tried not to watch the flex of his forearm with every swing of the hammer. Fourteen years had turned the boy I remembered into someone harder and quieter. It made me uneasy how fluidly he moved around my land like he had every right to be here.
“What else have you decided needs fixing?” I asked.
“Roof over the tack room. East pasture fence. Water pump’s leaking.”
“You inspected all that without asking me?”
“Didn’t need to. Place is falling apart. Not like you planned on fixin’ the shit, right?”
My irritation sharpened. “Maybe, maybe not. But I know what it looks like.”
“Do you?”
I stared at him, instantly annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryder drove another nail before answering. “Means you been gone fourteen years. And your dad was worthless and couldn’t keep up with anything.”
“I didn’t forget how a ranch works. I grew up here.” I stepped closer. “My great-grandparents built this place—”
“And your daddy nearly ran it into the ground.”
The mention of my father hit like a slap, and Ryder saw it. His shoulders tightened when he saw my expression.
“You don’t get to talk about him,” I said. “No one does because the asshole is dead and where he belongs.”
His expression went flat. “I know more about Dwayne Shaw than most.”
“So does half this town. He made sure everyone knew exactly what kind of man he was.”
The edge in his voice raised the hairs on my arms. I studied him for a second before he turned back to his work. My irritation was high, and my emotions were causing me to be on the verge of crying. It wasn’t Ryder’s fault. My father was a worthless piece of shit. I was glad he was gone, the abusive fucker. So why was I nearly breaking down talking about this?
I turned toward the house. “You need to leave.”
“No.”
I stopped and spun around. “Excuse me?”
“Got work to do.”
“I didn’t hire you.”
“So.”
“I don’t want your help.” My voice was rising, as was my anger.
“That a lie?”
I felt my face getting red. “You don’t know anything about what I want.”
Ryder set the hammer down with deliberate care, stood, and walked toward me. He didn’t hurry. Every slow step made the porch feel smaller until I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“I know you came here planning to sell before you even looked at the land,” he said quietly. “Bedroom window doesn’t latch right. I know you checked the front door three times before you went upstairs.”
My pulse hammered. “You were watching me?” I asked incredulously.
“I watch the property.”
“Sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention.”
Ryder didn’t answer, and the silence unsettled me more than a denial would have.
“You need to stop.”
“Stop what?” he asked.
“Showing up whenever you feel like it. Coming onto my land. Leaving things inside my house.”
“It’s just coffee, Lila.”
His gaze looked on mine. When I stayed silent, the corner of his mouth shifted, but it wasn’t quite a smile.
Before I could say anything else, the sound of tires crunching over gravel cut through the morning. A white SUV rolled up the drive, a cloud of dust trailing behind it.
Ryder glanced toward it. “Expecting somebody?” he asked.
“The realtor.”
He didn’t say anything, only wiped his hands on a rag tucked into the back pocket of his jeans before stepping down off the porch.
Kacey Marker climbed out, all pressed khakis, polished boots, and a smile that looked practiced. “Lila Shaw?”
“That’s me.”
He introduced himself, shook my hand, and glanced toward Ryder. “And you are…?”
“Neighbor,” Ryder answered.
Kacey nodded politely before turning back to me. “If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d love to take a look inside then walk the property, if that’s alright?”
“Of course.”
We started toward the porch, and Ryder stayed behind.
I assumed he’d gone back to replacing the railing until the screen door creaked open behind us a minute later. He stepped inside carrying his toolbox.
“You don’t have to keep working,” I said.
“Already started.”
Kacey laughed awkwardly. “Guess he’s hard to stop.”
Ryder didn’t even look at him, but I didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed.
While Kacey talked about comparable sales and acreage values, I led him through the downstairs. He scribbled notes about the original hardwood floors and the stone fireplace, occasionally asking questions I couldn’t answer.
“The plumbing?” he asked.
“Works.”
“The electrical?”
I hesitated.
“It’s been updated,” Ryder said from the kitchen doorway.
Kacey looked over. “You’ve done work here?”
“A little.”