Page 34 of Stockman's Showdown

‘Even if you might consider it poor-man’s plonk, it’s a good port. We just don’t do sugarcane champagne and cigars like you do, cupcake.’

Was she deliberately trying to get a rise out of him by using that nickname? Wait a second, what had Charlie said about her like for cupcakes?

Hmm, maybe she did like him, if she’d nicknamed him after her favourite food.

Nope, that cunning redhead did it to make him bite.

So he responded by frowning at her.

Of course, she matched his frown with adon’t give me that look!‘Hey, what’s that bottle Dex says only comes out for special occasions or commiserations?’

‘The Master’s Keep.’

‘See…’ Bree playfully wagged her finger, giving it a little twist for emphasis. ‘Even the name says it’s a boss man’s drink. So be brave and have some port. It might surprise you.’

‘Well, okay then, I’ll have some poor-man’s plonk.’ He liked it when Bree played nice, with her grin barely curling across her lips.

Bree cleared the plates off the table, following Charlie into the house. Ryder grabbed the last of the serving dishes, to follow them inside. He never did this at the farmhouse, but he was a guest here, plus he was keen to see inside the cottage that was over a hundred years old.

Inside the temperature dropped a few degrees, but there were no fans on the low ceiling. The stained-glass windows thatbookended the front door were open, allowing in the sweet scent of florals coming from Charlie’s flower garden.

To his right stood a large kitchen with deep double sinks and a solid timber countertop. The lower cupboards were old and worn, and the overhead cupboards had no doors, but they were full of assorted vegetable and fruit preserves as if he’d stepped back into some homesteading era.

Ryder placed the serving tray on the impressive island bench made from one slab of timber. ‘No dishwasher?’ He’d bought one for Harper to use in the farmhouse kitchen because no one wanted to do dishes.

‘I wish,’ said Bree at the sink. ‘It’s a lifelong punishment, eh, Pop?’

‘You’ve got two hands, kid.’ Charlie winked at her as he grabbed some port glasses. ‘Leave them for tomorrow, kid.’

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ Bree dragged out a glass jug, which she filled with water from the large water cooler by the door. Above it stood a long rack of assorted hats and coats, that shaded an assortment of working boots.

‘What’s with you, cupcake? Are you here to do some property inspection as the land baron?’ Bree put the water jug on the bench to cross her arms over her chest.

‘It’s the first time I’ve been inside.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Nope.’

‘Well, consider this your quick two-dollar tour of the caretaker’s cottage.’ She pointed to the open doorway on the right as Charlie rattled around in the kitchen. ‘That’s Charlie’s room. As you can see the lounge and living area commands the centre space, where they used to have a fireplace.’ Bree sounded like a real estate agent. ‘Oh, and that’s the best couch in the world.’ She fluffed up some cushions against the long leather couch that ran beneath the stained-glass windows.

‘So I’ve heard. I bet if I sat in that I’d fall asleep after that meal and this long day.’

Finally, she shared a sweet and soft smile that made it all the way to her pretty green eyes. ‘I’d do the same.’

He then spotted the branding irons resting high on the wall the way someone would display their swords. ‘You know that’s our cattle brand, right?’

‘Pfft. You need to talk to Charlie about that one.’

‘I did. But the old man won’t accept any bribes for it.’

Bree knew that, obviously, from her sly smile. The woman had a catalogue of smiles to suit every occasion—from sweet to sarcastic, sly to positively sinful.

Ryder pointed to a large black-and-white image on the wall of a man on a bucking bull. ‘Is that you, Charlie?’

Rattling around in the cupboards, Charlie peeked over the counter. ‘Yep. That’s me and Buckshot. The bugger who made me retire from the rodeo.’

‘Pop was the king of the rodeo, especially with bulls.’

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