He went into the kitchen and pulled a second mug down from the cupboard near the sink. “I’m here to farm. Why are you here?”
“I’m here to check on the welfare of my grandfather.”
“Then,” he asked in a reasonable voice before handing her the steaming cup, “why aren’t you in Dillon, where your grandfather is?”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A woman used to playing her hand carefully. “That is where I’m going.”
“Just thought you’d stop by? Introduce yourself?” He set down his own coffee and held out a hand. “Cole Bryan.”
She returned his handshake. “Taylor Evans.”
“Nice to meet you, Taylor. And thanks for calling the deputies on me.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice. My aunt wouldn’t answer her phone, you answered my grandfather’s phone and I was concerned.”
“Yet not concerned enough to keep closer tabs on your grandfather over the past several months.”
Her expression iced over. “There were circumstances at play there.” He lifted his eyebrows politely. “Private circumstances,” she said in a tone indicating that if he had any manners at all, he would stop the questions now.
He took a sip of coffee. If she thought cool superiority was going to make him remember his place, she had another think coming. Having worked with a master of the freeze strategy—his step-aunt and former boss, Miranda Bryan—she was going to have to do better than this.
“Are you satisfied now that all is well?”
He could tell the word no teetered on the edge of her lips, but she caught it before it fell. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re here in the house. My grandfather said he doesn’t think he’ll be in Dillon for all that long.”
“Maybe your grandfather is lonely and would like a roommate.”
“My grandfather is not the roommate kind.”
“You sound certain.”
“I know him.”
“Yet you didn’t know he moved.”
Irritation flashed across her features. “Would you stop bringing that up?”
“Sorry.” He set down his cup and gripped the counter on each side of his hips. “Maybe if you told me why you’re here, I can help you out, and then you can continue on to Dillon.”
She smiled tightly. “Yes. What a great idea. I wanted to meet you.”
“Make sure I was on the up-and-up?”
“My grandfather always leased his land to the neighbor to farm. I understand the neighbor is still farming.”
“Are you suggesting that I might have persuaded him to lease to me instead?”
She gave a small shrug. “The thought crossed my mind.”
“I did.”
Her eyes widened, and it took her a few seconds to say, “How long have you known my grandfather?”
“He used to cowboy with my grandfather a long time ago.”
“Karl never was a cowboy.”
Cole said nothing. He wasn’t going to argue the point.
Her eyebrows drew together. “Not that I knew of anyway.”
A slight step back, which gave her a couple of points in his book. “I didn’t use any kind of coercion. I just...talked to him.”
“And ended up living in his house. Using his stuff.”
“I’m a smooth talker.” And since her suspicions—her attitude, really—was starting to piss him off, he saw no reason to mention that Karl had been concerned about the place being broken into during his absence. Having Cole living there solved a problem for both of them, but too much explaining was only going to give her more to latch onto. He glanced past Taylor to the teapot-shaped clock on the wall. “I also have to get to work.”
“You have a job?”
“Yes,” he said in his patient guest-ranch-manager voice. “I’m a farmer.”
TAYLOR DIDN’T KNOW what to think when she got back into her car. The guy didn’t seem like a criminal, but he also wasn’t giving her much to work with as far as making judgments about him. Even though he was a self-proclaimed farmer, she’d bet money that he’d worked in a people-related field in the past. And he was ridiculously good-looking. His face was all angles and hollows, and she was fairly certain if he smiled, he’d have some decent creases down his cheeks. Dark hair, light green eyes...a lot to like there. Physically. Having worked with her fair share of attractive guys who turned out to be control freaks and douchebags, she no longer judged the book by the cover. A pretty face didn’t mean the guy wasn’t taking advantage of Karl. She’d ask her grandfather a few more questions once she got to Dillon.
And then she’d sleep. Night was her time, but it had been a long, rainy drive and she was exhausted. She hoped Karl had a spare room so she could crash.
As it turned out, there was no spare room in either place. Her grandfather and great-aunt shared a small duplex—two one bedroom apartments separated by a garage. Elise’s side was crammed with bric-a-brac, pillows, afghans and all manner of comfortable, cushy things, while on Karl’s side furniture was scarce, consisting of a secondhand dinette set, one leather recliner and a hundred-year-old sofa that he proclaimed to be “just fine.” And it was, if you didn’t mind sinking to the floor when you sat down. Taylor had a feeling that her grandfather didn’t much care—he had his recliner and very few visitors, since his friends all lived in the Eagle Valley.
After visiting with Elise, Taylor and her grandfather went through the connecting garage to his side of the duplex. Taylor took the cup of tea he brewed, then made the mistake of sitting on the sofa. She sank low and her knees felt like they were close to her chin. There was no end table to put her cup on, so she was stuck sitting there until she either finished her tea or asked her grandfather for help. She decided to finish her tea. Karl settled in his recliner, and if he noticed her discomfort, he said nothing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she said. “I was in a work frenzy from Christmas until two months ago—”
“And then you got fired.”
“Laid off, Grandpa.” She stared down into her tea. Laid off. Let go. It was the same as being terminated but didn’t carry quite as much stigma. “I didn’t see it coming.”
“After working those crazy hours, I imagine not.”
“Yeah.”
“So now what, Tay?”
“I’ve been looking for work in Seattle, and it seems that everyone is tightening their belts.”
“Have you looked elsewhere?”
“The Bay Area, Portland. Spokane.” But it was going to be expensive to relocate.
“Nothing?” He gave her a look that made her feel as if she needed to say something to convince him that she wasn’t slacking. Or maybe to convince herself she wasn’t slacking.
“Not even an interview. The most I’ve gotten is ‘we’ll keep your name on file.’” She took a sip of tea and managed not to choke. Her grandfather made tea the way other people made coffee. “I just need to be patient. Times are tough, but I know if I persevere, I’ll nail something down.” Another small sip, because