Page 16 of The Rogue

I pull the covers off and slide my jeans back on. The sun won’t be up for another three hours, but I don’t bother staring at the ceiling until it does.

With a yawn, I stretch and glance around. Certainly doesn’t give off thoseIndiana Jonesvibes. It’s clean. Sure, a bit untidy, but no dead skeletons or muddy boots in sight.

But he does still wear that hat, so the nickname stays.

The man’s got sweet digs. It’s not a mansion by any means. But Levi does own the biggest residential property in Hideaway Springs.

I never understood why. It’s just him and his son here. It’s not like members of his staff live in the house. He’s got cabins and small villas built for a handful of cowboys along the ranch.

Not that I’ve ever gotten a tour, but Pepper—who befriended me last fall with zero judgment—pointed them out from her backyard since her cottage is on the opposite side of it.

Barefoot, I wander out of the den and into the main room.

Rugged yet charming are the words a realtor would use to hook buyers for this place. Other than its owner, this home is one hundred percentinviting. With wide-plank wooden floors, exposed beam ceilings, a large stone fireplace, and an oversized rustic chandelier overhead.

I scan the messy space with a peaceful smirk. Imagining the erratically arranged plush couch cushions used for pillow fights or fort building.

It may just be the two of them but itbreatheslove, comfort and security.

I move to the stained coffee table with scattered Lego pieces next to an unfinished pirate ship. I gather the magazines, piling them evenly on the edge and place the three remote controls over them like a paperweight.

Cracking my knuckles, I flip to a page in the Lego manual and get to work.

Two hours later, I'm mixing pancake batter with swift, practiced movements the way Bessie taught me. It’s almost therapeutic as my eyes peer through the large kitchen window to the open fields.

It's still somewhat dark out, but I see movement near one of the barns and some by the cabins. Levi’s men already at work.

Hell of a better view than Bessie’s trailer, where I’ve lived the last six weeks since leaving Hideaway Springs.

I wash and slice fresh strawberries, mixing some into the batter, then set some on the edge of the plate.

The man did say I could help myself to the kitchen, he didn’t say I couldn’t make enough breakfast to feed a farm.

Occupational hazard, I suppose.

The manalsosaid he wanted me out before Jackson wakes…and as grateful as I am for a place to crash last night…I’m a little ticked off that this desperate man won’t even give me a shot.

So I’m doing the predictable thing and…going rogue.

Muffled voices and footsteps are above me and I pour a second helping of coffee into theCowboysDo It Bettermug I found. Grinning once again as I sip.

Heavy steps pound the stairs, and I stiffen, surprised to find myself aweebit afraid.

What is with you? Get a grip, Tess.

“Buddy, hurry up, got a late start agai—” Levi stops short before he even rounds the corner to where I’m standing in the kitchen.

“What the…” Levi pulls his gaze from the living room and turns to the kitchen.

I hold up my mug with a grin. “Morning, grumpy.”

His eyes drop to the stacks of pancakes and fruit on the counter, then to theCowboys Do It Bettermug in my hand.

He points to it stiffly. “That’s not mine.”

I cock my head innocently. “Was in your cabinet.” I lean in like it’s a secret. “Right up front.”

“I thought I made myself clear last night. And what happened to not making yourself too comfortable?”

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