“It’s this really rare condition called bitchiness,” she answered. “If I don’t eat, I turn into a complete, raving bitch. Everyone is on my shit list if I don’t eat. And if I do eat, andit happens to be salad, I only have about an hour reprieve from said bitchiness.”
Relief hit me like a battering ran at her words.
“At least that’s something that I’m used to,” I commiserated. “My sisters and grandma suffer from the same condition.”
She beamed at me, and I wouldn’t ever admit it, but that smile did something to my cold, dead heart.
“You have a grandmother?” she asked.
I nodded. “Don’t most people?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I used to have two of them, but both of them passed away about five years ago. In fact, I don’t have any grandparents left. All of them lived really hard lives. Like my parents, they were all rodeo fanatics. Both grandfathers rode bulls. My dad’s mom was a barrel racer. She did that into her late seventies and died of a heart attack while in a competition. My mom’s mom was a farmer, and she got run over by a tractor while they were plowing fields. My grandfather ran her over.”
My stomach sank. “I can’t think of anything worse to happen than to be the one responsible for running over the one person in the world that I love more than life itself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Grams was a bitch. She fell over because she was drunk as a skunk. Grandpa was just as drunk and had no clue he’d wrapped her up in a hay bail until six months later when they found her dead body after one of the cows ate the bail down far enough that she was exposed.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.
She burst out laughing then said, “I’m just lying. Both of my grandmothers are still alive. I just don’t talk to them because they’re assholes.”
I shook my head, amusement lighting my features despite my attempt to stop it.
“You’re hilarious,” I drawled.
“I know.” She shrugged. “My brothers say that I’m a sarcastic asshole. Same thing, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Back to why you were trespassing today…”
“Technically, I’m a part of the construction crew. I had every right to be there today,” she pointed out.
I’d never felt the kind of amusement that I did right then.
“Is that right?” I asked. “Should I expect you to be there more?”
“Yes,” she said. “Until I get my answers.”
“I’m afraid that you might not ever get those answers,” I drawled. “I have to protect myself, after all.”
“I’ll do what I have to do to get them,” she countered.
Interest spiked inside of me.
“Do you know who I am, Brecken Sweat?” I asked, trying not to be amused by her name.
“If you have any humanity at all, please, please, please don’t ever call me that again. If you have to address me by my full name, please make sure to add my middle name—Navy—in there. I can’t stand my name,” she begged, placing both of her hands together in a praying position.
I’d never been a very religious man.
In the line of work I was in, it was kind of impossible to think there was a god, or people like me wouldn’t exist.
But in that moment, I realized that if anyone was sent from heaven to tempt me, it would be this woman.
I didn’t allow my face to break, however, despite her cuteness.
When she realized I wasn’t going to say anything more, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.