Page 5 of Bull Rush

I make out the line of sight between me and the Purgatory Falls Inn, the place my great-great-grandmother started over a hundred years ago. The trees obscure most of this area except for one small bay window on the side of the house where a curtain is drawn.

“They can see through blackout curtains now?” I ask, perplexed by where the concern is coming from since I can’t even tell if there’s a light on inside or not.

“No, but they could seebeforeI drew the curtain back into place.” If her tone could kill, I’d be lying face down in the dirt right now.

“Well, tell them they’re welcome for the free show.” Ismirk, trying to make a joke and finally forcing myself to meet her eyes.

They nearly take my breath away. I’d forgotten how perfect the pale shade of blue really is, and how her thick black lashes and high-arched brows perfectly frame them—or at least, they would if they weren’t currently being employed at a steep angle to show me just how little patience she has for my bullshit this morning. Unfortunately, this particular brand of fury makes her look even more gorgeous.

“There are children in the dining room, and a mother who I can tell is about to write the nastiest review this year.” Her voice raises slightly as her eyes narrow.

“Let her. If she gives enough detail it might bring you a few more paying customers. Ones who aren’t knocking on death’s door.” I don’t know a lot of details about what’s been going on in my extended absence, but I do know she’s having financial problems, and most of her customers are on weekend passes from the retirement homes they live in along the Front Range.

There’s a raspy intake of breath, and her hand drops. Steely blue eyes meet mine and pin me in place. Her jaw is hard set as her eyes sweep over me—the offending parts now covered with a towel—and find me wanting.

“You’re not in prison anymore, Ramsey. There aren’t any rewards for being the biggest prick on the block. If you absolutely must be here, I hope it’s to help and not to make things worse.”

“You’re right. I’m not in prison anymore. I’m standing in my own yard.” I nod back to the ranch house. “Fairly certain I can do what I want here.”

“This isn’t your personal playground. This is a business. People depend on it for their livelihood.”

“Well, I can tell why it’s failing if this is how you greet them in the morning.”

There’s another sharp inhale, and her hands go to her hips. Wide ones that have a perfect curve from her waist down to her thighs, ones accentuated by the pants she has on. Ones that look fucking stunning when she’s sitting in a saddle or better yet—ridingme. I smirk again at the thought of it, and she doesnotlike that.

“I will have you arrested for public indecency if you do it again,” she threatens, her eyes narrow and her lips press together. It’s an idle threat because we’ve both had enough near misses with the law over the years not to invite them over for breakfast.

“You do that. Is there breakfast inside?” I smother my amusement for her benefit.

Her eyes widen, and she’s processing the fact that I’m about to invade her little inn. Our little inn, if we’re being accurate, because I’m still part owner whether she likes it or not.

“You’re not—you can’t! I mean, yes, there’s breakfast, but they’ve just seen you all…” Her hands wave over me, and she gives me a distressed look.

“Darlin’, like you said, I’m just out of prison. Before that, hundreds of locker rooms. I really don’t give a fuck who’s seen me naked. It’s not like I have to be worried about it being a disappointment.” This time, the smirk’s return really is her fault because, with the way her lashes flutter, I can tell she must have caught a glimpse that jogged her memory. The way her eyes dart down to my towel and then quickly back up to my face again tells me it might be the one thing about me she still misses.

We stare at each other for a long moment, my smirk widening and her nostrils flaring as she grows more irritated with me by the minute.

“You don’t have something to eat out here?”

“Yeah. A granola bar I bought at a gas station somewhereoutside of Oakley. I’d prefer something hot if it’s all the same to you.”

“The breakfast is for the paying guests.”

“Then I’ll make use of the kitchen. I assume you’ve got a couple of eggs and some bacon I can borrow off the kitchen. I’ll cook it up myself.”

“Kit would kill you if you touched her kitchen.” She’s not wrong there. That’s sacred space as far as Kit’s concerned. I’m just hungry enough to risk it.

“Then I’ll only use the fifty percent of it that’s mine, but I’m fairly certain Kit’ll just volunteer to make it. Happily, I might add.” Kit’s the head of the inn’s café and the best cook I’ve ever known in my life. I’m one of her favorites, and it’s a hard-earned position. One I’m not even sure the passage of time could erode, and Hazel knows it.

A silent glare follows, and I just smile and raise my brows in anticipation. The quiet stretches on; the birds in the trees above us chirping their little hearts out like they’re rooting for a fight. I can wait all day, but I’m sure she has somewhere she needs to be.

“Fine. Get something from the breakfast bar. But you have to put clothes on.”

“I’d planned on it as soon as I got some privacy. Unless you want another look for old times’ sake?”

“Don’t start with the cute shit. It won’t work.” I get one last look of dismissal, and she turns on her heel and heads back inside.

THREE

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