Page 63 of The Brave and the Reckless

“Okay.”

I knew this wasn’t a social visit. We were only here because of the storm brewing outside. But it was still the first time I’d brought anyone home in years without them being here to work. It was the first time I’d brought a girl home. Ever. I wasn’t prepared for this.

I kept some bare necessities here in case I worked late and ended up spending the night, but until I got some busted pipes replaced, only one of the bathrooms was remotely operational and the heating wasn’t getting fixed until next year. Esra hadn’t complained about not getting a hot shower though.

Her wet clothes were draped over the side of the tub. They wouldn’t dry properly like that.

I’d changed upstairs and had discarded my own drenched clothes in the sink, but I also didn’t need them tomake it back to Bravetown once the weather cleared up.

I slipped past her and unfolded the old laundry rack stashed behind the broken washing machine.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“I do. I’m sorry. This is my fault.” I tried not to dwell on the fabrics I was touching as I hung them up to dry. Even if I was hanging her underwear and that meant she was really just wearing a towel right now. “We should have stayed at the park.”

“Should have, could have, would have,” she mused.

Fabric rustled behind me. She was changing right there. If I turned around right now…

“Don’t you mind people seeing you naked?”

“Not really. It’s just a body. It’s not that deep,” she said.

“Is that med school talking?”

“Kind of. Actually, no. It’s probably part of the whole mindset that made me want to go to med school in the first place.” She hummed. “You can turn around now. I’m all covered up.”

I did, not prepared for the somersault my pulse did at the sight of her. Esra naked would have been one thing. But Esra standing in my shirt? The plaid fabric hit mid-thigh for her, her smooth legs bare down to the boots. She hadn’t buttoned it up all the way, exposing a perfect triangle of skin down to the valley between her breasts, but the rest of the shirt swallowed her. It triggered some sort of caveman instinct in my brain. This woman was wearing my clothes in my house and all I wanted was to get her some tea and some chocolate and shield her from the weather.

“Tea?” She tilted her head, completely oblivious to the ways she fucked with my mind.

Five minutes later, I trailed her through the rooms while she cradled a steaming mug to her chest. I couldn’t help but imagine what she must be seeing. Downstairs still needed a lot more work than upstairs. The kitchen was covered in buckets and tools and dust. The doorframes needed to be sanded down and refinished. Some lamps were only light bulbs dangling from the ceiling. It had to look like a complete dump to her.

She leaned through the doorframe into the dining room– or what I hoped would be the dining room someday. Right now, it was just white walls and mismatched old wooden chairs that I picked up whenever I found them cheap or free. They usually just needed some screws tightened and a fresh coat of wax to make them as good as new.

“Is this what you and Sanny were doing when you came into the saloon covered in paint?”

“Yeah, we’re fixing the place up again. He didn’t tell you about it?”

“No.” She turned, but not in time to hide the flicker of hurt. She wandered down the hallway, leaning into each room to get a look. “So you want to be a farmer?”

“No, we’re turning it into a therapy ranch.”

“You and my brother?”

“Yeah.”

Her steps faltered for a moment, but she caught herself on the doorframe to the office– which was just an old desk shoved into the corner, surrounded by boxes. Esra sighed and nodded. “That’s why you’re training Tornado to be a therapy horse.”

“Yes.”

The rain drummed against the windows on three sides of the large living-room space, driving home just how still Esra had fallen. She ran a hand over the mantel above the fireplace and circled the old sofa to look out at the backyard. I wasn’t sure I’d ever witnessed her stay completely silent for this long. Even when she’d been quietly riding beside me earlier, she’d constantly let out little sounds of wonder, had greeted a bug that landed on her hand and hummed her approval when the sunlight hit her face. I usually liked silence, but I hated hers.

“If it makes you feel better, Sinan hasn’t talked much about you either. Not in detail. I think he’s been trying to keep this place separate from his family life.”

“Maybe.” Esra turned, leaning her back against the window frame. “Willyoutell me about this place? What’s your plan?”

“Sure.” I walked over to her, letting my back rest against the other side of the window. “I turned the attic into a master bedroom, so that’s where I’ll be staying. There’s five more bedrooms upstairs. We’re planning to put two beds in each. That way they can either be shared or a parent can stay with their kid. There’s another bedroom down here that we want to make fully accessible, but the back stairwell is already fitted with a stair lift. A lot of that is where Sanny comes in. He’s making sure the house can meet all kinds of support needs.”

---