Why, then, had she thought about her new neighbor off and on ever since he’d left the day before?
Maddeningly, he’d been the last thought she’d had going to bed and the first upon waking. Swearing off men had suited her. She swung the sledgehammer again, feeling the point of impact with a deep satisfaction. God forgive her, but she knew visualizing Tim every time she swung was not a good thing. Yet it was the best satisfaction she’d had since that woman had walked into her hospital room and exposed the lie Lucy’s life had been.
Lucy swung again, harder this time. Her hands hurt with the jarring impact as the hammerhead met the solid stud.
No. She did not appreciate the cowboy showing up and causing her to realize just how much she longed to be able to trust someone. And why was it exactly that Rowdy McDermott had her thinking about trust?
She would never trust a man again.
“Well, I guess that answers my question.”
Lucy jumped, so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Rowdy come into the room.
The humor in his voice was unmistakable.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped. She hadn’t really expected walking away from him would make him leave. So it really didn’t surprise her that he’d followed her inside. After all, he had already proved he was nosy.
“You don’t like walls. And you need help.”
Of all the nerve. “If you must know, I planned to hire help.” She yanked off her protective eyewear with one hand and set the sledgehammer against the wall—getting the thing out of her hand might be the smartest thing. “And again, if you must know, I was enjoying myself too much to do it.”
He’d stopped smiling at her angry outburst, looking a little shocked. Now that infuriatingly cocky grin spread again across his features, like a man who knows he’s charming.
Well, he wasn’t to her.
“Stop that,” she blurted out. His grin deepened and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He was fighting off laughter—at her!
“So you’re angry with someone, and knocking out walls satisfies a need inside of you. I get it now. For a little thing, you really do have a lot of anger issues.”
Her jaw dropped and she gasped. “Of all the—”
“How about if I help you out?”
“Do what?” The man had pegged her motives somewhat correctly at first guess. Yet if he only knew of the anger issues buried so far back inside her, he would not be grinning at her like that.
“Hire me—I’m cheap and will work just to watch the fireworks. You put on one entertainingly explosive show.”
“This is outrageous,” she huffed. Crossing her arms, she shot daggers at him—he’d think explosive. “I bet you don’t get many dates, do you?”
He chuckled deep in his chest and her insides curled like a kitten in response. “We aren’t talking about my love life. We’re talking about me helping you out.”
Lucy could not get her foot out of her mouth. She should never have mentioned anything to do with dating. Talk about getting into someone’s business!
“Well,” she faltered, still stuck on that chuckle.
“Look, like I said yesterday,” Rowdy continued, “my nana is going to have you over to dinner next week and if she finds out you need help and I didn’t do the neighborly thing and help you, believe me, it won’t be pretty. So help a fella out and put me to work.”
Despite everything, Lucy found herself wanting to smile. But the past reared its ugly face—this was so like Tim.
How many times had he cajoled her into doing something he wanted? Too many. The fist of mistrust knotted beneath her ribs.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, having meant to tell him no. She repositioned her goggles.
He frowned. “Fine. I’ll let you get back to your work, then.”
Irritation had his shoulders stiff as she watched him leave. She almost called out to him, but didn’t. She’d given in to Tim too many times in her life. Why did men believe women were supposed to just stop thinking for themselves whenever they were in the picture?
Lucy wasn’t going down that road again. The screen door slammed in the other room, and a few seconds later she heard his truck’s engine rumble to life. Drawn to the window, she watched him back out onto the hardtop. But he didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he sat with his arm hooked over the steering wheel, staring at the house. Though he couldn’t see her, she felt as if he were looking straight at her.
She stepped back and he drove off. Her heart thumped erratically as she watched him disappear in the distance.
It’s better this way.
It certainly was.
Then why did she suddenly feel so lonely she could scream?
* * *
“Women,” Rowdy growled, driving away. “They drive me crazy.” She could just knock her whole house down for all he cared. He had things to do and places to be and being the Good Samaritan was obviously not his calling. It was his own fault—he should have minded his stinkin’ business.
After only a short drive down the blacktop road, he turned onto the ranch, spinning gravel as he drove beneath the thick log entrance with the Sunrise Ranch logo overhead.
Dust flying behind him, he sped toward the ranch house in the distance, its roof peeking up over the hill that hid the majority of the ranch compound from the road.
The compound of Sunset Ranch had been divided into sections. The first section was the main house, the ranch office and the Chow Hall, where his grandmother, Ruby Ann “Nana” McDermott, ruled the roost. For sixteen boys ranging in age from eight to eighteen the Chow Hall was the heart of the ranch. But Nana was actually the heart.
Across the gravel parking area, the hundred-year-old horse stable stretched out. Most every horse he’d ever trained had been born in the red, wooden building since the day his grandfather had bought the place years ago. Beside the horse stable stood the silver metal barn and the large corral and riding pens. Making up the last section was the three-room private school the ranch provided for the kids. It sat out from the rest of the compound, within easy walking distance, to give the kids space from school life. This was home.
Rowdy pulled the truck to a stop beside the barn. He slammed the door with the rest of the disgust he was feeling just as his brother Morgan walked out of the barn.
“What bee’s in your bonnet?” Morgan asked.
Rowdy scowled. “Funny.”
“Obviously something is wrong.”
All the McDermott brothers were dark headed, square chinned and sported the McDermott navy eyes, but Morgan was the brother who most resembled their dad—steadfast. Respectable.
Rowdy had always lived up to his more reckless looks—good-time Rowdy. That had been him. But he’d turned a corner and was trying hard to be more than a “good time.” And that misconception irritated him the most about Lucy turning down his offer to help. It was almost as if she saw his past and chose to bypass trouble. As if she’d decided in that moment she couldn’t trust him.
The thought pricked. Stung like a wasp, to be honest.
If she couldn’t trust the man who caught her swan diving off the hayloft, then who could she trust?