Cowboy Up Page 7

  When the silence stretched to the point of being uncomfortable, Ruth finally found her voice. “Thank you for being so understanding,” she said, sounding as phony and rehearsed as the rest of her spiel.

  The Singletons had more money than they knew what to do with. For the last five years, Ruth and her husband had been using Reynolds Construction to add on to their already gargantuan home. A guest cottage, a game room, a garage for their Airstream trailer. The place was like the freaking Winchester Mystery House.

  Cost prohibitive. Overwhelming. Bullshit.

  “I know you have quite a few hours into the project,” Ruth continued. “Please send me an invoice and I’ll write you a check for what I owe.”

  Aubrey clicked off and slammed down the phone. She’d been hoping the commission from the pool house job would get her through the next few months. “Goddamn you, Mitch.”

  In anger, she scooped the phone back up and hit the Speed Dial button for her ex-fiancé. It rang and rang until she got voice mail. The son of a bitch was screening.

  “Quit messing with my livelihood, Mitch,” she yelled into the phone. “If you don’t want the whole world to know what you did, stop interfering with my projects.”

  She knew Mitch wouldn’t heed her threat. He’d done an excellent job of villainizing her to the point where no one would believe a word she said, even if it was the truth. More important, he knew she would never tell. So, basically, she was screwed fifty ways from Sunday.

  On second thought…she scrolled through her contact list, found who she was looking for, and dialed. Within thirty minutes, she’d caught up with an old friend from design school who’d volunteered to talk to her boss, a developer in Las Vegas, about giving Aubrey a job. It was a shot in the dark but worth a try. Vegas was a fast-growing city, with planned communities cropping up as fast as crabgrass. She could do Sin City. In fact, her life could use a little glitter.

  She celebrated her slim prospect of employment with a pint of Cherry Garcia and for the next two hours buried herself in sticking Post-its to pages in catalogs with furniture that might appeal to a twelve-year-old.

  At six o’clock, Aubrey gathered up the catalogs, checked her hair and face in the mirror, and took the short walk to Cash’s cabin. He was fixing dinner when she got there.

  “Did I come at a bad time?” She didn’t want to interrupt their meal.

  “Nope. Ellie may or may not be on a hunger strike, depending on her mood. Either way, there’s plenty for you if you’re interested in overcooked pasta.”

  She went over to the stove and stuck her nose in one of the pots. “Sauce smells good.”

  He held up a jar of Newman’s Own and grinned. “Tough to screw up.”

  “What the heck? I’ll have some, if there’s really enough.”

  Cash put another setting on the table and slid a loaf of garlic bread into the oven. Ellie sat in the corner, doing something on her phone. It was the first time Aubrey had ever been in the cabin, and she took the opportunity to look around.

  The place really was awful, at least in its current condition. The cabin itself had good bones. A stone fireplace she thought was original. And the walls were made from white pine logs that had beautifully aged with time. Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams and an open floor plan in the common areas made the house feel airy.

  With some rugs, better furniture, a kitchen update, and some colorful accessories, the place could be charming. Too compact to be a showstopper, but inviting and cozy. Currently, the oversize dun couch recliner wasn’t doing the living room any favors. The coffee table looked like an upside-down chicken coop, which was a thing, but not the way Cash had done it. The walls were bare and the floors scarred. The house could benefit from a deep cleaning. It wasn’t exactly dirty, but there was a patina of neglect that hung in the air like a dreary cloud.

  With ten grand and some elbow grease, she could make the place shine.

  “Spaghetti’s on,” Cash said.

  Aubrey noted that Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot. “Are you really on a hunger strike, Ellie?”

  Ellie gave a little shake of her shoulders, clearly pulled between the sweet aromas coming from the kitchen and whatever it was she was protesting.

  “Well, come sit with me at least.” Aubrey beckoned the girl to the table.

  Cash did a double take when Ellie actually joined them. When Ellie thought no one was looking, she sniffed the dinner Cash had laid out. Cash didn’t say a word, but Aubrey noticed that he served Ellie a nice helping of spaghetti and salad.

  He passed Aubrey the pasta. “Dig in.”

  They ate without talking, and Aubrey spied Ellie taking a few nibbles of the bread before breaking down and trying the spaghetti.

  “It’s delicious,” Aubrey said.

  “It’s passable.” Cash dusted the top of his with a thick coat of pepper. “What do you think, Ellie?”

  “It’s all right, not as good as my mother’s. Hers was the best.” The tremor in Ellie’s voice was enough to break Aubrey’s heart.

  Cash fell silent, clearly stymied over how to respond.

  “What else did she make?” Aubrey asked.

  “Everything. Macaroni and cheese from scratch, Sloppy Joes, enchiladas. Just everything.”

  “Do you have her recipes? Because if you do, maybe you and your dad could try to recreate some of her dishes.” Aubrey was probably butting in where she didn’t belong, but she’d always been that way. Just ask anyone.

  “We could do that,” Cash said, jumping on the idea.

  Ellie turned to Aubrey. “Maybe I could do it with you.”

  Well, hell. Aubrey hadn’t seen that coming, not that she wouldn’t want to cook with Ellie. But she’d been trying to throw a life preserver to Cash, who frankly appeared a little lost in how to deal with an inconsolable child. Not that Aubrey was any expert on it.

  “Maybe we could all do it together,” she said.

  “Yep,” Cash agreed, but this time less enthusiastically. “Gotta eat, and Aubrey lives next door. We could have Jace and the boys come too, make it a family affair.”

  Aubrey nodded. “Wouldn’t that be fun?” Was it just her or were they trying too hard?

  “That’s okay.” Ellie played with a piece of lettuce that had stuck to the side of her plate. “I’ll probably be leaving soon anyway.”

  Cash started to say something, stopped, and shoveled another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

  “In the meantime, I found some really cute ideas for your bedroom.” If it was anything like the rest of the house, it would need all the help Aubrey could give it.

  “It seems like a waste of money.” Ellie glared at Cash.

  “I won the lottery, so not a problem.” Cash clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

  They finished eating, and Cash did the dishes while Aubrey spread her catalogs and magazines across the old farm table—one of Cash’s nicer furniture pieces, which wasn’t saying much. Before they got down to business, she asked Ellie to show her the room.

  “So this is it, huh?” Aubrey examined the space. It wasn’t a bad size and there was a big window that looked out over Dry Creek. Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot to recommend it. The lighting was bad—just a lamp, which looked like a Remington if she wasn’t mistaken, on a rickety nightstand—and the rug looked like something had died on the floor. The wall with the window was made from pine logs, like the front rooms. But the other three were drywall, painted in a drab color. Not quite beige and not quite white, just a dingy combination of both.

  “What’s your favorite color?” Aubrey asked Ellie.

  “Pink, I guess.”

  “Pink, huh? I can work with that.” It had been Aubrey’s favorite color when she was Ellie’s age. She continued to size up the room, looking for the best way to arrange the furniture. W
hile the window let in what little light the room had and framed gorgeous views of the creek and mountains, its location made the room tricky for placing a bed. Aubrey preferred not to put a headboard against a window unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Cash wandered in, curious to see what they were doing, and the room suddenly felt smaller. It wasn’t just his sheer size; she was used to tall, broad men. Her brother, Mitch, Jace. No, Cash had a commanding presence, the bearing of a man who was used to being in charge. The power of it threw her off her game, and for a second, she had trouble remembering what she was in the middle of doing before he walked in. Uh, furniture placement, stupid.

  “Do you have a tape measure?” she asked him.

  He went off to find one and Aubrey ballparked it by walking off the wall opposite the window. That was where she planned to put the bed.

  “I think you have enough room for a dresser, a nightstand, and a desk. It’ll be tight, but I’ll make it work.”

  Ellie continued to stand just inside the doorway, looking forlorn and bored.

  “What would be your dream bedroom?” Aubrey hoped the question would coax some participation out of the girl. “Mine was a canopy bed with tons of ruffles.” A canopy bed would certainly work in Ellie’s room, given the height of the vaulted ceilings.

  “I liked the bedroom I had in my Boston house.”

  “Shall we try to replicate it?” Aubrey asked, refusing to give in to Ellie’s sulkiness. “Or should we go totally new and different?”

  Ellie’s response was to flop onto the bed and play with her phone. Undaunted, Aubrey decided to leave Ellie be. She’d come around eventually. What young girl could resist decorating a bedroom?

  Cash returned. “What do you want me to measure?”

  “I need the dimensions of the room and the width and height of the window.” Aubrey looked for something to write on. “I’ll be right back.” She got her sketch pad from the dining room and went back to draw a rough schematic of the room, using the measurements Cash called out.

  “What do you think of stripes, Ellie?”

  “Whatever.” Ellie went back to burying her face in her phone.

  Aubrey and Cash exchanged glances. She gave him a reassuring smile, as if to say I’ve got this.

  “Let’s go back in the dining room and go shopping.”

  When Ellie made no effort to move, Aubrey went over to the bed, tugged her up by the arm, and led her to the table.

  “Start looking through this catalog and stick these to anything you like.” Aubrey handed Ellie a pad of Post-its.

  Cash joined them at the table and leafed through one of the bedroom magazines Aubrey had brought.

  “This one is nice.” He held up a picture of a panel bed with dark wood, heavy lines, and a decidedly nineties vibe. It was ugly as sin.

  “I was thinking something a little less masculine.” What she meant to say was something a little less hideous, but Aubrey was trying to put it as kindly as possible.

  “Gotcha.” Cash continued to flip through the pages. “What about this one?”

  Aubrey thought the picture of the mahogany four-poster he waved in front of her face was better than his last choice but too old-fashioned for a twelve-year-old. And definitely too dark.

  “Do you like this?” Aubrey slid a picture of a headboard and footboard made of white picket fencing under Ellie’s nose. On each of the four posts sat a colorful birdhouse. Aubrey thought it was adorable.

  Ellie managed to pull herself away from her phone long enough to give the catalog a passing glance. Then, boom, her face brightened and her blue eyes flashed with excitement. Ah, they were getting somewhere.

  “We could do one wall in pink and white stripes with bedding to match,” Aubrey suggested.

  Cash made a face. Apparently, he wasn’t feeling Aubrey’s vision. But Ellie was, Aubrey could see it in her expression, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

  “We could do lots of pink and white fuzzy pillows and a fluffy rug in the center of the room.” She handed Ellie the tape measure. Now that she had the girl’s attention, she wanted her to feel like part of the process. “Tell me how much floor space we have for the rug.”

  Ellie plodded off to do Aubrey’s bidding but did her best to act put out.

  As soon as she was gone from the room, Cash said in a hushed voice, “You do know I was joking when I said I won the lottery?”

  “Give me a budget and I’ll stay in it.”

  Cash hesitated for a beat, then asked, “Will a couple thousand do it?”

  Probably not, but Aubrey would make it work. “Yep, I’ll keep it right at two thousand dollars as long as you’re willing to pitch in with the painting. Are you handy?” Something about the question made her blush, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see the red stain that had heated her cheeks.

  “Handy enough,” he said, the corners of his mouth ticked up in an arrogant smile.

  Ellie returned. “I don’t really know what you want me to do. I measured, but I don’t think it’s right.”

  “I’ll remeasure, no worries.” Aubrey took the measuring tape from her, planning to review the room one more time before she left. Turning her attention back to Cash, she asked, “Is it all right with you if I come by tomorrow to begin preparing the walls?”

  “Sure.” Cash draped his arm over Ellie’s shoulders, the first sign of affection Aubrey had witnessed between the two. “I don’t think we have anything going on tomorrow, so Ellie can help.”

  Ellie squirmed out from under Cash’s arm.

  “Then I think we’re good here for now. I’ll order the bed and start searching for the other pieces.” She gathered up her sketch pad, catalogs, and magazines and stuffed them in her tote bag. “Is ten okay?”

  “We’ll be up.”

  “I’ll just take that last measurement and be on my way.”

  She double-checked Ellie’s room’s dimensions and Cash walked her outside.

  “Thanks for doing this,” he said in that low, rumbling voice she’d first mistaken for surly and now thought was sexy.

  “I’m guessing it hasn’t gone beyond your notice that Ellie doesn’t want to be here,” he continued. “I’m not sure if a new bedroom will change that, but the room—the whole cabin, for that matter—isn’t what you would call homey. Hopefully, this’ll help.”

  “Absolutely it will. I’ll make her bedroom so beautiful she won’t want to leave.” Aubrey didn’t know what else to say, so she smiled, and Cash smiled back. But something in his blue eyes told her he wasn’t altogether convinced. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Aubrey went home to her empty cabin. Ordinarily, she spent Sunday evenings getting ready for the long workweek ahead, organizing her calendar, packing her car with supplies, doing laundry. Because she had now joined the ranks of the unemployed, she had nothing to do but wander aimlessly around her tiny new home. Mitch had built them a four-thousand-square-foot two-story farmhouse with every modern amenity imaginable. The man knew his luxury homes; Aubrey would give him that much.

  Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she filled the next hour by gathering what she would need to tape off Ellie’s room for the pink and white stripes. A pretty room for a pretty girl. Aubrey thought Ellie looked just like her father: same blue eyes, same cleft chin. Neither of them smiled that often, which made her wonder about Cash’s story and why he was no longer working for the FBI. Next time she saw Jace, she planned to wheedle it out of him.

  Bored to tears, she got ready for bed and stayed awake, watching TV until half past ten. She turned on her side and glimpsed the shimmer of her wedding dress hanging in the open closet. Next Saturday would’ve been her and Mitch’s wedding day. She stopped to think about that, to let it sink in. No regrets came, just a deep and abiding disappointment. In Mitch, for what he had done, and in herself, for nearly making th
e mistake of a lifetime.

  She got up, shut the closet door, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Cash awoke in the middle of the night. At first, he thought he was having the dream again, but it only took him a few seconds to clear the sleep from his head and realize it was a noise coming from Ellie’s room.

  He got out of bed, went to her room, and listened. When he didn’t hear anything, he cracked the door a few inches and peeked inside. Ellie’s face was buried in her pillow and sobs wracked her small body.

  Her pain tore his insides out and this time, whether she liked it or not, he wasn’t walking away. He went to the side of her bed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Ellie?”

  She shrank away from him, like he’d burned her with a match. “Get out of my room.”

  “Ellie, honey, tell me what’s wrong.” Cash scrubbed his hand through his hair, knowing it was an asinine question.

  “I want to go home,” she said through sobs. “Can’t I just live with Linda?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and she scooted closer to the wall. “Your mom wanted you to live with me. It was her dying wish, so it must’ve been important to her. Don’t you think?”

  “Why? Why was it important to her?” she asked, and he wished he had an answer that would make sense to her. “You weren’t even in our lives and Linda was her best friend.”

  “It’s not because I didn’t want to be. You’re my daughter, Ellie, my own flesh and blood.”

  “If you wanted to be a good father, you’d let me go live with Linda.” She wiped her nose with the sleeve of that damned sweater.

  A part of him wondered if she was right. He’d ripped her away from everything familiar, and Linda had made it clear that she and her family would be thrilled to take Ellie in. “I was hoping we could get to know each other.”

  “I don’t want to know you, I just want to go home.” She turned so that her back was facing him.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He didn’t know what else to say…what else to do. He tucked her in, like his mother used to do to him, and remained at the edge of the sagging mattress. “What if I just sit here until you fall asleep?”