That he’d finally gone ahead and made so many improvements drove Noelle nuts, since she’d been dying to fix up one of his houses while they were married. Actually, she’d started out begging him to buy her a big house in town—something that would show wealth and status, and where she could be at the center of activity. He’d refused, and his refusal had caused so many arguments between them that he’d stonewalled her when she eventually gave up and asked for a remodel of one of his current homes instead.
Now he felt like a stubborn ass. He could’ve allowed her to enjoy the process—as well as the finished product. But he’d been so irritated with how shallow she was, and was so miserable being married to her, he’d dug in his heels.
In retrospect, he understood that making her live in an old house he could’ve remodeled but wouldn’t was his revenge for knowing she’d trapped him to begin with.
“You must’ve used the same contractor,” Lourdes mused.
“Yes. One of my best friends, Riley Stinson.”
“He does quality work.”
“Come spring, he’s planning to renovate the house next door, which I’m currently renting to one of my employees, and the one closer to the plant, which is currently empty. They’ll look a lot different when he’s done.”
She stared out at the snow falling into his backyard, which wasn’t a yard so much as a large field. “How many employees do you have?”
“Fourteen, at the moment.”
“That must make you the biggest employer in Whiskey Creek.”
He chuckled as he moved the ketchup and pickles to see if there was anything behind them.
He found...butter. Great.
“Possibly,” he responded. “But that isn’t saying much.”
“Were you born here?”
“I was.” What if he made eggs and toast? It wasn’t a fancy meal, but he had a whole shelf of homemade jelly he’d bought from Morgan’s partner, who canned every spring and then foisted off on him whatever she couldn’t sell elsewhere. Along with some good coffee, fried eggs could be enjoyable...
“Have you ever considered leaving?” she asked.
He straightened. “Whiskey Creek? No, not really. Why would I want to do that?”
“Don’t you ever feel it’s too...confining?”
He thought of Noelle. She found it too confining. But he wasn’t like that. He loved it here, couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. Noelle was the only thing that ever made him want to leave. “No. My parents are in town, and they’re getting older. With my sister and her kids living in Pennsylvania, I need to help look after Mom and Dad. I don’t want to leave it all to my stepbrother, Brandon. Besides, I like the people here, the land, the freedom. Being in a big city, with the traffic and the noise and the pollution...that’s not me.”
“I see. You’re a cowboy at heart.”
“Not a cowboy. I don’t rope or ride. Don’t own a pair of cowboy boots or a Western buckle. But I’m definitely a small-town kind of guy.” He lifted the carton of eggs. “Any chance you’d be interested in breakfast for dinner?”
She turned away from the window. “I could eat almost anything.”
“Why didn’t you stop and get something after you landed?” Except for the fact that he didn’t have much to choose from, he didn’t mind feeding her. But with her determination to avoid public places, what would she have eaten if she’d stayed at his rental tonight? There was nothing in those cupboards, other than some coffee he’d taken over as an afterthought. He’d been asked to provide furnishings, not food.
“I should have,” she admitted. “I was in a hurry. Since I’d never seen your house in person, I wasn’t convinced it would work for my retreat, and I wasn’t sure where I’d go if it didn’t. I felt I needed to reserve time for plan B, just in case.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” He found a spatula, but then he began to wonder if he should give her other options. Not everyone cared for dairy foods. “Would you rather have canned soup? I’ve got tomato or vegetable.”
“No. I’ll take the eggs.”
He pulled out a frying pan. “Good choice.”