Chapter Three
When Christian opened the door for Aaron Briar, the other man already had his signature, affable, crooked grin on his face. If it were anyone else, it would irritate Christian and seem forced, but since it was Aaron, he knew it was genuine.
Christian’s stoic nature superseded his internal affection, and Aaron did what he did best, teasing, “Now, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you ain’t too happy to see your ol’ cousin.”
Anyone with two eyes could put together that the men were related in some capacity.
As children, people often mistook Christian for Aaron’s older brother, with their similar dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
Aaron, like Christian, had defined features, but he wasn’t so hardened; his sharp bone structure softened with crinkled eyes and a cheerful gleam often present in his gaze.
“Ah, quit your bellyaching,” Christian responded in turn, waving his hand dismissively at the accusation and making way for Aaron to step through the doorway of the farmhouse. “You know I don’t wear my joy on my sleeve like you. Don’t mean I’m not glad to see you.”
“Can’t find fault there, I guess.” Aaron laughed softly, shaking his head in amusement as he frequently did at Christian’s prickly personality.
His smile dropped immediately as he actually made his way inside, though.
He hung his hat on one of the rusted hooks by the entrance, letting out a low whistle at the state of the place.
“This place could send any sane person running out that door screaming. By the looks of it, you haven’t cleaned a lick since I was last here. ”
“I s’pose I let some of the housework fall to the wayside. Been busy tending to the ranch,” Christian grumbled. Aaron didn’t pay him any mind, walking through the other rooms with a furrowed brow and judgmental glint in his expression.
The cabin itself had the potential to be inviting, cozy even, in its simplicity.
Everything was in warm pine tones or rich fir.
The furniture had been handcrafted with care by Christian, from the carefully smoothed edges to the tanned leather.
The main living area was spacious with a well-equipped kitchen to the right, a small half-floor upstairs, and Christian’s bedroom just beyond the fireplace.
As he trailed behind his cousin, Christian found himself looking through Aaron’s eyes—muddy boots kicked haphazardly by the stove, plates, and cups forgotten on various surfaces, frayed blankets slung over the backs of chairs, and a whole mess of clutter throughout.
It was, to put it lightly, a mess. Or, as Aaron said, “Housework falling to the wayside is one thing, but it’s a right disaster in here, Christian. I’d bet even the pigs would turn their snouts up and haul tail out of here.”
Aaron stopped abruptly in front of the sink, leaning over to eye the pile of dirty dishes. Christian remained silent, both because that was his habit and because he didn’t have a leg to stand on here. Aaron turned to face him, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed.
Christian averted his gaze. He wasn’t keen on eye contact to begin with, but this was worse than usual.
Aaron was a tall man, near six foot—even then, Christian still had a few inches over him.
But under his cousin’s scrutinizing gaze, Christian felt three feet tall at most—like a small child fixing to get a whoopin’ for skirting on his chores.
“Don’t go shooting those eyes at me,” he mumbled, voice low and gruff. “I told ya, I’ve been busy.”
“That so? Funny—I work on the same ranch, and my place don’t got dust thicker than a winter coat.
” To punctuate his point, Aaron cleared the space from the sink to the dining table and dragged a finger through the layer of grime.
“You know, I’ve been mighty relaxed about the state of things around here, but it’s time I put my foot down. ”
“Last I checked, you’re the foreman, not owner.”
“And soon enough, this whole ranch’ll be belly up, leaving us high, dry, and outta work. I reckon you ain’t hankering for that any more than I am, are you?” Aaron lifted a dark brow, daring Christian to dispute the notion.
“I’ll dust in here before you come knocking next. I’ll even spruce up the barn like you’ve been jawin’ about for so long,” Christian offered, hoping that would be enough to get Aaron off his back for a little while longer.
“It’s about an awful lot more than that wreck of a barn, or even the sorry state of this house, and you know it. It’s about you being thirty-one years old now and still all on your lonesome.”
“You say that, but you only have four years until you’re in the same boat as me, so I’d mind that judgmental tone if I were you.” Christian’s voice held an edge to be sure, but it was a defense mechanism against the truth Aaron’s words held. It wasn’t so simple, though, and his cousin knew that.
When Aaron turned from the sink, clearing the small space to the dining table, he shook his head. On the way over, he shot another glance in the direction of the stove. Christian knew he was eyeballing the coffee pot sitting atop the rusty burner.
“Ain’t judgment, just concern,” Aaron said, taking a seat at the table, once more scowling lightly at the smut. “You know what’d help?”
Christian retrieved a rag from the kitchen, begrudgingly wiping the table down before taking a seat across from the other man. “Don’t you go on about me getting a woman again. You know good and well why I ain’t looking for a woman.”
“How long you gonna be hung up on what happened with Ella?” Aaron leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly, a troubled look across his face. “It’s not sensible to hitch your wagon to one failed romance more’n a decade past. No matter how awful it was.”
That was downplaying it, right as rain. It wasn’t just a ‘failed romance’.
It, much like Christian’s home, was a downright disaster.
After the fire, things were different—with everyone, but especially with Ella.
She was such a lovely lady and had such a soft heart.
She’d been plenty patient with Christian for years, standing by his side even when he became more distant.
But Christian’s heart wasn’t so soft, not anymore, and he couldn’t give her what she wanted—what she deserved.
He’d tried to, even proposed to her, but trying wasn’t enough.
By the time they were twenty-one, she came to her senses, up and leaving with hardly any warning.
That had stuck with Christian. He knew he had his faults, a whole heap of them were he to be quite frank, but it was so unlike Ella to just go like that.
It served a purpose, though. Just like God had forsaken him by taking his parents, He forsook him once more by taking Ella. Christian got the message loud and clear: he didn’t deserve love or happiness.
After a long spell of silence, Aaron grew impatient, abruptly standing up and walking to the kitchen. He dug around for two clean cups and retrieved a bottle of whiskey, setting it down with a heavy thunk when he returned to the table.
“I’ve had ‘bout enough of your long face,” he commented, pouring the glasses full of liquor and sliding one to Christian. “Maybe a few drinks’ll put the starch back in ya.”
“Won’t ever say no to whiskey.” To illustrate that point, Christian tipped it back and took a hearty sip.
Aaron wasn’t wrong. It did loosen Christian up some.
This time of year was always particularly difficult for him, for obvious reasons.
It was hard not to think about his ma and pa, especially with all the time he spent on his lonesome.
Their conversation grew more lighthearted as they drank, focusing more on things around the ranch or word about town—something Aaron often relayed to Christian, since he was actually sociable with the townsfolk.
But after a handful of drinks, it became all too apparent that his cousin had an ulterior motive.
“Way I figure it, I really oughta get that barn cleaned up, like I said,” Christian said casually as they jabbered about tasks around the ranch, regretting it not one second later when he saw the gears in Aaron’s head turning.
“You know what would help with that?”
“Don’t you go sayin’ nothing about getting a woman again, or I swear I’ll tip this bottle over your head.”
“Afore you write it off, just hold your horses and hear me out, would you?” Aaron gave Christian a look that made it clear as day—he was going to say his piece, whether Christian liked it or not.
“You heard the chatter about these ‘mail-order brides’? I know a couple ranchers who found real nice wives that way.”
Christian snorted out a humorless laugh. “You’re either pulling my leg or gone plumb crazy.”
“Neither one,” Aaron countered, leaning in just slightly.
Christian felt his eyes scrutinizing every little movement on his face, studying him intently.
“Not talking about love here, cousin. You don’t have to open your heart to the gal.
It’s about an extra pair of hands around here, a much-needed female touch. ”
“Ain’t happening.” Christian’s voice was curt and definitive, but that wouldn’t matter one bit to Aaron, not when his mind was made up.
“How’s about we settle it like we always did as kids?” Aaron lifted a brow, challenging Christian.
“Let me make sure I’m hearing right…” Christian drawled, each word coming out slow and tinged with disbelief. “You’re asking me to bet my whole life on a deck of cards?”