Brokedown Cowboy. Maisey Yates
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do like breakfast cereals. I’m ambivalent about goodwill.” He stood up, wobbling slightly. “Feeling a little bit ambivalent about gravity, too.”
“I’m surprised you feel like eating. How much did you drink?”
He looked away from her and shrugged in a classically Connor manner. Playing things off was an art form with this man. “I don’t know. I woke up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I had a little bit to drink and ended up staying down here. Anyway, I don’t really notice the hangovers anymore.”
“I don’t think building up a resistance to hangovers is a crowning achievement.”
“For my lifestyle, it certainly is.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, cowboy. I’ll pour you some cereal.”
She shouldn’t offer to do things like that for him. She knew it. But she did it anyway. Just like she brought his groceries when she knew his fridge contained nothing but beer. Just like she still came to his house every day to make sure he was taken care of.
“Whoa, wait a second, Liss. We do not know each other well enough for that shit.”
“I’ve known you since I was fifteen.”
“The preparation of cereal is a highly contentious thing. You don’t know how much milk I might want. Hell, I don’t know how much milk I might want until I assess the density and quality of the cereal.”
“Are you still drunk?”
“Probably a little bit.”
“Kitchen. Now.”
Connor offered her a smart-ass smile, one side of his mouth curving upward. She couldn’t help but watch him as he walked from the living room into the kitchen. His dark hair was longer than he used to keep it, a beard now covering his once clean-shaven jaw. She didn’t mind the look. Actually, didn’t mind was an understatement; she thought he looked dead sexy. Though, in her opinion, there was no look Connor had ever sported that she’d found less than sexy. Even that terrible haircut, gelled and spiked up, that he’d had for about a year in high school, his one and only attempt at trendiness. No, on that score, the beard and hair were fine. The real issue was that his mountain-man look wasn’t a fashion statement, but an outward sign of the fact that he just didn’t take care of himself anymore.
They walked into the kitchen, and with the sun shining through the window like it was now, she could clearly see the coat of neglect that everything wore. The stove had a grease film over the top of it, a shocking amount of splatters on the white surface considering that she knew Connor never cooked anything here beyond frozen pizza. The pine cabinets looked dingy, the front window dotted with a white film of hard-water stains.
The house didn’t wear its neglect with quite the same devilish flare its owner did.
Connor reached up and opened one of the cabinets, taking out one of the brightly colored boxes of cereal she had just placed there. It struck her, in that moment, how funny it was she had known exactly where to put the cereal, and that he had known she would.
He grabbed a bowl and placed it on the counter, turning to face her, and she realized then that Connor wasn’t wearing his neglect quite as well as he would like everyone to believe. Sure, he was still sexy as hell, the tight lines by his eyes, the deep grooves in his forehead not doing anything to diminish that. But they were new. A map of the stress and grief of the past few years, deepened by his recent losses.
She ached for him. But beyond buying the man’s food, there was very little she could do.
She had been about to unload on him about all the crap that was happening with her rental. But it wasn’t a good time. Though she doubted with Connor there was ever a good time. Not because he wouldn’t care, but because she didn’t want to pile on.
Connor poured milk on his cereal, milk she had brought, and set it back on the counter. He picked up his bowl and started eating, crunching loudly on his first bite. “Are you going to have some, Liss?”
“I never say no to cereal. I have important accounting stuff to attend to. I find an early-morning carb rush is the best way to handle that.”
“Coffee?” he asked, talking around the food in his mouth.
“I had a carafe before I came over. I don’t play around with caffeine consumption.”
“Well, I need some.” He set the bowl back down on the counter and made his way over to the coffeemaker.
“So you had coffee. Beer, and coffee.”
“I’m not an animal.”
Liss snickered while she got her own bowl and set about preparing her cereal. There was a strange domesticity to the scene. Mundane conversation, easy morning sounds. Water running in the sink, clattering dishes. The soft filter of early sunlight through the thick wall of evergreens that surrounded Connor’s front yard.
There was something poignant about sharing this with him. This moment that seemed to have slipped right out of time. Like something she’d stolen, something she shouldn’t have.
Seriously, you would think she was the one who had been drinking. She was maudlin.
Connor started the coffee then returned to the island where he’d prepared his cereal. They stood across from each other, eating in silence, except for the crunching. And the sounds of the coffeemaker.
More morning sounds she was not entitled to.
Because this was the kind of thing a guy shared with his lover or wife. Not with his oddly codependent best friend.
“Have you heard back from the insurance company about the settlement?” The barn had burned down in July thanks to a few kids carelessly playing with fireworks, and while Liss knew that insurance companies could drag their feet to a pretty insane degree, this was going somewhere beyond that.
It was mid-September, and as far as she knew, Connor’s bank account remained void of settlements.
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s a little bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”
He shrugged one shoulder then took another bite of cereal. “Probably. Just haven’t had the energy to go chasing it down.”
“Don’t you think you should find the energy? All that equipment...”
“I’m very aware of what I lost in the fire. I don’t need you to summarize. Anyway, I’ve been making use of Bud’s old tractor. Plus, Jack had some extra tools.”
“That’s very nice. But don’t you want your own things?”
“Yes, Liss,” he said, his tone getting hard. “I would very much like to have my own shit. Actually, what I would really like is for my barn not to have burned down.”
Connor Garrett was six feet four inches of solid muscle. When he crossed his arms over his chest, showing off the strength in his powerful forearms and the full-sleeve tattoo he’d gotten a couple of years ago, he made a very intimidating picture. To other people. But not to her. “Too bad it’s not a perfect world, isn’t it?”
Connor snorted. “Yeah, Liss, I have noticed that the world isn’t perfect.”
“Noticing it isn’t enough. You have to do something about it.”
“I was not aware that my cereal came with a lecture.”
“It wasn’t supposed to. I have to go to work.” She set her bowl down on the counter then turned away from him, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets.
“Wait.” She heard footsteps, and no small amount of rustling behind her.
She turned back toward Connor, who was pouring coffee into a travel mug. “I’m waiting.”
She watched as he put two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of cream in the