Page 15 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

Patsy wouldn’t have put up with him either. She would’ve run him out of the kitchen with the first crumb drop. Might’ve given him a stern warning on his way out.

But one thing she wouldneverdo was make him clean it up.

He licked his lips, staring her down. Then he toed the rag with a booted foot, swirling it around the spot on the floor where it had landed.

Willow rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh. “Incorrigible.” She snapped the towel up from the floor and spun it into the sink.

He chuckled. Hadn’t felt the sound of laughter in his throat in how long? He couldn’t remember.

“If you’re finished now, I’d like to see how this bread comes out.” She dumped it into a greased bowl and laid a tea towel over the top of it. When he didn’t move, she flashed a look at him. “Just trying to get a head start on this weekend’s festivities.”

“Looks like more than a head start.”

She let out a short laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It surprised him to realize he could tell the difference. “I like to be prepared.”

“Or maybe something else has got your attention today.”

Her brows dipped.

“Saw you out by that stand of old olive trees.” He spoke with a lowered voice.

“And?”

“Looked serious.”

“You mean it sounded serious because you were?—”

“Don’t say eavesdropping. I don’t do that.”

“But you heard my conversation.”

The lightness in her face faded away, bringing a twist to his heart. He hadn’t meant to rile her, just … just what?Keep your nose clean, his father used to tell him whenever he’d leaned too far into his business about the ranch, especially when it came to the place’s finances.

Is that what he was doing now? Being nosy?

Then again, if her troublesome conversation had something to do with the ranch, he ought to know about it. Was it a supply issue? A job offer somewhere else? He clucked his tongue and took a step back, remembering how his mother and Patsy used to laugh and carry on in the kitchen until he and his brothers came tumbling in.

He’d always thought it was because she doted on them, but maybe she was just trying to have a private conversation. Which means—he had overstepped. Chance turned to go.

Willow cleared her throat, stalling him. She forced a smile that was about as convincing as a rainstorm in the desert. “Just sorting out some personal stuff,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Chance watched her for a beat, then nodded. Everybody had their secrets. As long as they didn’t affect the ranch, he had no right to them.

“Alright, then.” He searched his head for a change of subject to chase away the awkwardness. “I don’t suppose you’re having car trouble or anything. ‘Cuz if you are?—”

“I’m not.”

“One swift wind and that thing could go airborne.”

Willow shoved a fist into her waist. “Did you really come here to insult my car?”

“Your comically tiny car.”

She cracked a smile. “Stop it.”

He cracked one back. “No, I did not come here to talk aboutLucille.”

She paused, looking upward, as if thinking. “Who in the world is Lucille?”

---