Page 13 of Owned By The Cowboy
I’ve been working on setting up my studio for three days now, ever since we got settled in the cottage. The spare room is perfect for it. Good light, enough space for a cutting table, and a window that looks out over the fields behind the house. I just need to figure out how to make the damn equipment work.
This was supposed to be my fresh start. My way of making a living that doesn’t depend on anyone else. I’ve been sewing since I was twelve, and I’m good at it. Good enough that my friends here and then in San Francisco were always asking me to make them dresses or tailor stuff. Good enough that I think I can make a living out of it. If I can figure out how to thread this stupid machine, first…
“Maybe we should call Grandma,” Annalise suggests.
“Grandma doesn’t know how to use this machine either, baby. This is a fancy one,” I mumble, still trying to poke around the intricate system.
“What about that man? The one from the store?” Annalise asks.
“What man?” I turn my full attention to my daughter.
“The big one. Blayne. He fixes things.”
My heartbeat picks up at the mention of his name. “This isn’t the kind of thing he fixes, sweetheart,” I say in my best frown-up voice.
“How do you know?” she insists.
Good question. How do I know? Just because he’s a construction worker doesn’t mean he can’t thread a sewing machine. But the thought of Blayne’s huge hands on my sewing machine, his big fingers carefully threading the needle, makes me feel warm in places I shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Mama, you’re making a weird face.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“No, it’s not.”
Six-year-olds are too observant for their own damn good.
“How about we take a break and get some lunch?” I suggest, closing the manual before I’m tempted to throw it out the window.
“Can we have grilled cheese?”
“We can have whatever you want, my love.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting at the kitchen table sharing grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup when there’s a knock at the front door. I’m not expecting anyone, and Mama usually just walks in, so I have no idea who it could be.
I open the door to find Blayne standing on my porch, holding a toolbox and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
He’s filling the entire doorframe, blocking the sun outside. Probably tall enough that he’ll need to duck to get through the door. Still wearing that damn hat. The one I’ve been imagining his fine self in with nothing else on…
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” My brain immediately goes blank. He’s wearing jeans and a gray Henley that shows off his toned arms, and when he takes off his cowboy hat, his hair looks all mussed. HOT. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just… I wanted to check on the cottage. Make sure everything’s working right.”
“Oh. Everything’s fine. Perfect, actually.”
“Good.” He shifts on the heels of his heavy work boots. “Mind if I take a look around? Just to be sure?”
I should send him on his way before I do something stupid like invite him to take a look around my… Oh God…
“Of course,” I hear myself blurt out. “Come in.”
He steps inside, and suddenly the cottage feels smaller. I’m hyperaware of every inch between us.
“Place looks good,” he says, glancing around the living room. “Kids settling in okay?”
“They are. Annalise still loves her room, Nia’s finding all kinds of hidden spots around the house for reading, and Jaylen’s well on his way to become one with the couch.”
