Page 38 of Sovereign

He pulls it out and licks it clean. I’m speechless, rooted to the spot.

“You hungry, redbird?” he asks.

I nod.

“Let’s go eat.”

Head spinning, I follow him downstairs with the contract in hand. We enter the four season porch, which is empty except for two covered plates of food at the far end closest to the windows. He guides me to the seat beside the head of the table and I sit down meekly. The folder goes on the chair beside me.

I’ll have to discuss it with him and I’m dreading that.

He pours coffee. I grip the hot mug in my hand, shifting my eyes out the window. It’s so cold there’s ice on the glass and I’m grateful I’m inside and not back at Garrison Ranch. There’s surely nothing left of my house at this point.

“Have you found my horses yet?” I ask.

He shakes his head once. “No, not yet. We’re looking.”

My brows scrunch. I feel distantly guilty that I’m in a warm house, in a soft sweatsuit, with a hot cup of coffee in my hands and my horses are out there roaming in the cold.

“It’ll be okay,” he says.

I nod and bite my lip.

“Your horses know what they’re doing,” he says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they bring themselves home.”

“I won’t be there though,” I say.

“I have someone watching the ranch. They’ll let me know as soon as they see anything.”

He pulls the cover off my plate to reveal eggs, sausage, biscuits, and gravy. My stomach rumbles and I pick up my fork and wait. Watching him to see if he’s going to eat too. It’s already weird enough for me that I’m not eating in the kitchen and I need him to start so I feel less awkward.

He just sips his coffee. I put down my fork.

“Do you have questions about the contract?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I have a lot.”

“Fire away.”

I lean back in my chair. “I want to keep my bank account. I don’t mind if you want to pretend I don’t have it, but I’m not letting you strip what little money I have from me.”

His jaw works and he dips his head. “You may keep it, but there’s no need to use it. I’ll pay any and all expenses you have while you’re here.”

I blink, surprised it was that easy.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asks. “I can have Maddie make you something different.”

I shake my head, grabbing my fork. “Sorry, I was waiting for you.”

He gazes at me for a long moment, but clearly decides not to pursue his thoughts. Guiltily, I start eating. I’m not sure why it’s so embarrassing. Maybe because for the last handful of years, I’ve eaten standing up at the kitchen sink. Shoving my food in as quickly as possible before the men in the dining room needed service.

All it had taken was for Clint to come looking for me once for me to realize I needed to be available until dinner was finished.

“What did you do at Garrison Ranch?” he asks.

I shrug. “I cooked and cleaned. Clint ran it like a bed and breakfast during parts of the year for conferences and business meetings. I was the housekeeper and the cook and he handled the financial stuff.”

“That’s a lot of work,” he says.

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