Chapter 9 #2
The front door opens and a woman my age enters, dressed similarly to how Sawyer usually is, but with a long, pale braid cascading down her back.
Beth Sterling. My gaze darts to Calder, but his back is turned to her.
Will he recognize Beth? Does he hold a grudge against the Crossroads’ neighbor like his dad did?
She spots me and gives me a timid wave but stays by the door.
Since she never comes to the brewery, she must want to talk to me.
I have no hard feelings toward any Sterling, except for Gil and their mom for leaving them.
Beth is a gem, and we’d probably be best friends if it weren’t for the animosity kept alive by her dad and Ransom.
We’re more like secret lovers, swapping hidden texts and meeting in dark corners.
I avoid making eye contact with anyone to prevent being waylaid on my way to her. Enough people have observed us chatting over the years, so they know we’re amicable.
“Sorry,” Beth says. Freckles spread across her nose and her cheeks like the galaxy, and her crystal-blue eyes reflect the taproom lights.
“No, it’s fine. Is something wrong?”
She shakes her head, then her gaze catches on Calder and widens. “Oh crap. I didn’t know they were back yet.”
“Just Calder is.”
Recognition brightens her irises. “Right. I would’ve guessed it was him. He’s Finn’s age. Rivals in football.”
“They were on the same team.”
She shoots me a “you know better” look, and yeah, I do. The boys hated each other because their dads told them to. The Cross brothers left because their dad told them to. Obedient, and so damn stubborn.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I wanted to catch you before the funeral. I’m planning to take Dad on a trip that day—somewhere. Anywhere. So there’s no issues.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know what the Cross brothers will be like. Beth’s brothers all went to college when Calder, Bowen, and Landry left, but I heard their relationship with their dad was strained as well. It’s why Beth runs the ranch.
“Finn might go.”
I tense, but only because Finn Sterling is the deputy who broke the news of the accident to me. Finn is also one of Beth’s older brothers, and because of the Cross-Sterling animosity, his presence at the funeral may not be welcomed by all. “That’s fine, but Bowen and Landry might be home.”
“I wanted to warn you,” she says quietly. “And I wanted to extend my condolences since I won’t be there. I am so sorry. I know you have Sawyer to help with the ranch, but you can call me anytime, okay?”
“Thank you.” To add fuel to Scandal’s fire, I give her a hug.
She gives me one back, squeezing me so hard she cuts off my air. Then she’s gone.
Calder tracks me, his intense gaze an inferno between my shoulder blades as I retreat behind the bar.
He nods at my former teacher, who was likely his teacher as well, and begins collecting empty glasses from the vacant tables.
I wait for his deposit of dirty glasses so I can load the drawer dishwasher.
He places the four mugs he’s holding by their handles on the counter.
His big, strong hands are lined with veins.
Four mugs in one of his mitts. I can only carry two in one hand.
“Was that Beth Sterling?” he asks.
“Yes. I like her.” I say it like a challenge.
“If she’s like her mama, she’ll stab you five times in the back before you notice she has a knife.”
“It was four.”
Alarm flashes in his eyes, and I snicker. Regardless of the rumors, Beth’s mom’s only crime was abandonment.
“She’s not like her mother, or her dad, but she handles his moods really well. She wanted me to know she’ll ensure he’s out of town on Thursday.”
He’s taken aback for a heartbeat. “For once, we’ll owe a Sterling.”
“I never understood the reason for the hatred between you all and them.” I don’t include myself in the conflict.
Instead of telling me Gil’s a bastard like Ransom would’ve done, Calder thinks for a moment.
“Neighbors are supposed to help each other—with fences, branding, and sorting. Gil charged us for his time, and that was after we gave up a weekend to help him with branding. Then there was the time he drove past our cattle when they got out and never notified us. Two got hit by a semi, and the insurance company came after us. Their mom drove past Mama when she was stuck in the ditch during a blizzard.”
“But that’s between the same generation. Our generation doesn’t need to feud.”
“The guys are arrogant dicks.”
I smirk, and he scowls at me. That’s all the Cross-Sterling lore I get. He begins to run a sink full of water. As he squirts in soap, I place my fingers on his forearm. His muscles tense beneath my fingertips, and he stills.
So much strength… I snatch my hand back before my nipples get hard again. Why did I have to go and find out he feels as powerful as he looks?
“We have a dishwasher.” I shut the water off, and he glances around, frowning. I pull on the handle, and the drawer rolls out.
Astonishment flits across his face. “Another one.” He stands back to evaluate it.
“It’s been here as long as I’ve been working.”
“I’m sure once Dad had to do a lot of the cleaning himself, he got some amenities.”
I can’t tell if he’s irritated or amused. “It’s efficient.” Then it dawns on me. “He got a dishwasher for the house shortly after…”
“After I left?”
Holly had insisted. She despised doing the dishes. Calder and his brothers likely didn’t enjoy them either, but that didn’t matter to Ransom.
“I still had my fair share of chores.”
His dark brows draw together. “Like what?”
I laugh. “You think your dad let me sleep in every morning with barn cats to feed, dogs, chickens, horses, and a couple of hundred head of cattle?”
“Three fifty.”
“Three fifty what?”
“When I left home, we had 350 head of cattle. Dad grew the operation from 250, once my brothers and I were old enough and stayed close enough to work. We were going to grow to 500 when Landry got done with college.”
The Cross boys worked as employees, like ranch hands. When they left, Ransom hired some kids for the summer and fall roundups until Sawyer and I were older. Eventually, cattle numbers dwindled to a more manageable level.
“It’s down to 150 now, until Sawyer and Carlos begin taking loads to the sale barn in the fall.”
His lips form a grim line. “That’s not enough. Both Carlos and the vet are on the books.” He finishes as though he has to speak around cut glass.
“Who?”
“Carlos and the vet.”
I prop a hand on my hip. “I’m sorry, who?” It’s a struggle to contain my wicked smile.
He gives me a steady stare. “I didn’t forget Sawyer’s name.”
He just doesn’t like her because she’s my friend. “You sure? I’m not confident you remember mine.”
“I know your name, Meredith.”
It comes out as a purr, and I’m not ready. My stomach goes wild, exploding with butterflies. Worse still, it’s as if his vocal cords have a direct line connected between my legs. The more he talks, the stronger the pulse.
“Sawyer doesn’t get paid.”
“Of course she does.”
“Her hours are tracked, but she’s said before she doesn’t get paid. She’s working off a debt.”
He cocks his head, and I thrill at being the one to catch him off-guard.
I waggle a finger toward the near-empty taproom. “So you can tend the bar, and you can clean up. You even have a spot of beer on your shirt.”
He doesn’t bother glancing down. The beer probably asked permission to stain the material.
“I might think you can do morning chores next,” I add.
“Does Carlos need help?”
Carlos never used to need help, but that was because Ransom was there.
My sister would care for the cats, Blue, and the chickens.
Now I have to get up earlier to do it. Sawyer pitches in if Carlos is ever sick—more like muscles him back into his pickup and forces him to go home and rest. I can help, but I’m often closing the taproom. Otherwise, now it’s just Carlos.
“He’ll never admit it.”
Calder’s gaze intensifies. He’s clocking everything I say. That’s not supposed to be a turn-on, but after my ex, it only makes Calder’s handsome face with the smug tilt to his lips all the sexier. A girl could sit on that face.
Oh my god. I’m tired and need a long morning in bed pleasuring myself.
I cannot get hung up on lusting after a man who might drive me off the ranch before he herds any cattle.
My ovaries would not survive the sight of this man turning country.
He’d better keep those damn slacks on until after the funeral, or I’ll be busted drooling over him.
Then, once I’ve put my sister to rest, I can slink away with my tail between my legs and my pride intact.
“Excuse me. I have a bar to close.”
“We have a bar to close.”
There is no “we” when it comes to Jules Creek. It’ll be either him or me, and the odds aren’t on my side.