“I grew up here.” I point at the house, peering over his shoulder and past the screen door. “In this very house. We moved when I was fifteen, but this was our home. This was our farm. My father built this fence. My initials are carved into the closet door in the last bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall. My mother picked out that wallpaper in your living room.”
He doesn’t smile. “I’ll have to thank her. The flowers really give this place some real pizzazz.”
Sarcastic ass.
Rolling my eyes, I add, “I don’t expect you to care. I was just giving you a little history on the property.”
“I don’t care.” He shrugs.
“Okay, well.” I pull in a deep breath and gather my pride. “Thanks for … nothing?”
Gripping the handle of my bag, I lug it off the front porch and pull it down the sidewalk. It catches on a crack in the concrete, tipping over, and when I stop, I notice him watching me.
I can’t get to my car fast enough, and by the time I’m peeling out of his gravel drive, he’s retreated back inside my home.
Asshole.
Chapter Four
River
“Morning, handsome.” Donna grabs a chipped John Deere mug and a glass coffee pot, flashing a crooked smile that lights her wrinkled face.
“Morning.” I remove my hat and take a seat at the counter at the Old Home Diner on Main street in Bonesteel Creek proper.
“The usual?” she asks, pouring a cup before carefully sliding it in my direction. She wipes her hands on her apron and grabs her notepad before retrieving a pen from behind her ear.
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod, glancing around for a newspaper or advertiser, something to occupy my time until my bacon, wheat toast, and eggs over easy come out, only something catches my eye, and it sure as hell isn’t the yawn-inducing headline on the Bonesteel County Tribune.
That girl—the one who showed up at my house yesterday with her suitcase in hand claiming she rented my house for two months, is seated at the far end of the counter. At least I’m pretty sure it’s her. I come here damn near every day, and I’d know if someone seemed out of place. Plus, those baby pink shoes. Nobody around here has shoes like that, all shiny and pristine. Or jeans that expensive-looking. The only jeans people wear around here are meant for climbing in and out of dusty pickups and muddy tractors.
I figured she’d have left town by now considering the way she left my place with her tail tucked. Can’t blame her for feeling like a jackass after letting some Internet scammer get the best of her.
“You doing okay over here, sweetheart?” Donna asks her.
The girl looks up, brushing her messy dark hair out of her eyes, and nods.
There’s something sad about her, or maybe she’s just one of those women who have sad eyes. Deep and inquisitive, like she’s staring way down into your soul when she looks at you.
“Can I get you anything else?” Donna asks.
“My check would be great. Thank you.” The girl grabs her bag off the empty spot next to her and fishes out a red leather wallet. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, I realize her skin is red and blotchy, her eyes watery, and her nose is all red.
For crying out loud.
Is she still crying over yesterday?
I’ve got little patience for stupidity and even less patience for young women who expect the world to go easy on them just because they’re easy on the eyes.
Donna waddles my way, placing silverware and a paper napkin in front of me. “Food should be out soon.” She catches me watching the girl, and her lips fight a smile. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
Looking away, I reach for my coffee and take a sip. “I guess.”
Swatting me away, she chuckles. “I used to know her parents. Long, long ago. Went to high school with them, actually. So sad about her daddy. He was a good man.”
I meet her misty, mascara-caked eyes for a second. I’m curious, but I don’t ask. It won’t do me one bit of good to go prying into some stranger’s business, and the last thing I need is to get caught up feeling sorry for someone I’ve got no business feeling sorry for.
A bell dings from the kitchen and Donna turns on her heel.
The girl at the end of the counter is standing now, and for a brief second, she spots me before glancing away. A twenty is gripped in her left hand, and she’s fidgeting like she’s anxious to get out of here.
Dabbing her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, she turns her back to me.
I’m sure she’s humiliated after yesterday, but that’s not my problem, and to be honest, I couldn’t care less.
I don’t even remember her name, and I know she told it to me at least twice.
Hell, a week from now, I won’t even remember what she looks like.
“You need change, sweetheart?” Donna sits my plate before me before scurrying to the girl, taking her twenty and heading to the cash register. She runs back with some loose bills and a handful of coins. “If you ever need anything, please look me up, okay? It’s good to see you again. Tell your mama I said hello, will you?”
The girl nods, offering a flicker of a smile before turning to leave.
Our eyes catch once more, only this time we allow our stares to linger.
She has to pass me on her way out, and the closer she gets, the more I notice the red bloodshot eyes and the ruddy complexion. Girl looks like she spent all night crying her eyes out.
My breakfast is getting cold, but god damn it.
Exhaling, I clear my throat. “You want to see the house?”
She stops, head tilted in my direction. “Excuse me?”
“Come by in an hour. I’ll let you walk through it.” This goes against my better judgement, and truly I don’t have time for this shit, but I’ve never seen a girl with sadder eyes than her, and it’s making me feel some kind of way.
The girl blows a quick breath through her full mouth. “I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn my back on her, picking up a fork and cutting into my cold eggs. “You looked like you’d been crying. Was trying to show you some compassion or whatever the hell you were begging for last night.”
“I’m allergic to cats, asshole.”
I glance back at her, studying her dark eyes to see if she’s lying.
“I stayed at a bed and breakfast last night. The owner has a half dozen cats, and turns out I’m highly allergic.” She scratches at a red welt on her forearm, sniffing. “You thought I was crying because you wouldn’t let me stay with you?!”
I say nothing.
I really fucking hate being wrong.
“So, no, I’m not crying. Nor do I need your compassion or a tour of my childhood home,” she says. “I have a feeling it would only depress me anyway, being a bachelor pad and all.”
“A bachelor pad? Lady, it’s my house.”
“Please stop calling me ‘lady.’ It’s Leighton,” she says, cinching the strap of her purse over her shoulder as she eyes the door. “Anyway.”
She loiters for a second, her soft pink lips pressing tightly like she’s got something to say but isn’t sure if it’s worth the energy.
“Is he hassling you, sweetheart?” Donna interjects. “You just say the word and I’ll take him out back and bend him over my knee.”
I lift my coffee to my mouth. “You’d enjoy that too much, Donna.”