Harry stood calmly watching them from the other side of his pen.
Nick moved on down with his handkerchief, still wiping the front of the jacket. “Good thing you’ve got this jacket on. He might’ve ruined your sweater.”
Sniffling, Sandi snatched the handkerchief away from Nick and continued to wipe at the foul-smelling spittle. “Animals love me. I—I don’t know why he would be mad at me.”
“I’m later than usual feeding them and Harry might think he’s got competition. I’ll put out some hay for them. Go on inside. Soon as I finish, I’ll be in. Feel free to use the shower if you want to. It’s off my bedroom. Just go up the hall leading out of the living room and you’ll see it.”
She wasn’t eager to go into a strange house alone, but she couldn’t wait to get to some soap and water.
She entered through a back door into a utility room and walked on into a kitchen. The house might be old, but the kitchen had obviously been remodeled. Beneath its high ceilings was a hardwood floor, modern cabinetry, a cooking island and tan granite countertops. The whole area was large and open into a dining-living area.
An open wine bottle sat on the cooking island. Curious.
She walked into the living room that had also been remodeled. It was spotlessly clean—much cleaner than her own house and decorated in typical Western style with leather furniture, more hardwood floors and cowhide rugs. The smell of leather permeated the air and she didn’t find it unpleasant. If she had to think of a single word that described Nick’s home, that word would be “welcoming.”
She spotted the hallway he had mentioned and passed three empty rooms before she reached a bedroom that was fully furnished and glaringly masculine. Bunkhouse décor—tan walls, rustic Western-style furniture. No trace of a feminine touch. “Cowboy country,” she mumbled, moving on into a bathroom. There, she found a large walk-in shower made of tan tile.
After showering and shampooing her hair, she felt better. Unlike the skunk odor, no smell of Harry’s stomach contents remained. She found a hairbrush and a hair dryer in one of the vanity drawers and used them. Afterward, she hung Nick’s soiled jacket on the back of a wooden rocking chair in the bedroom and followed noises back into the kitchen.
He was busy at the cooking island, seasoning two thick steaks and he was wearing a bright red bib apron. He looked cute. He looked up, wiping his hands on the front of the apron. “Hey, there you are. Better now?”
She was nervous. Using a guy’s shower and his personal items like shampoo and a hair dryer implied an intimacy. “That’s my third shower today.” She drew a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. “I used your shower gel and your shampoo and your brush and dryer. I had to get that...stuff off of me. I hope you don’t mind.”
He smiled. “Not a bit. The shower’s new. No one but me has ever used it.”
A female had never been in his bathroom? She tilted her head and frowned. “Never?”
“Well, not since I moved back here and started remodeling this place. I live here alone. Why would anyone else use it?”
Sandi felt guilty for her thoughts. “What I meant is, no one has ever...I mean you haven’t had—”
“What are you trying to ask me? If any women have spent the night here?”
“No! I mean, why would I care? I was making conversation.”
He smiled. “You’re right. Why would you care? But I don’t mind telling you, I don’t bring women here. This is my private place and I don’t want to mess that up. That’s why I don’t have a phone here. If I need to have a phone conversation, I use my cell phone.”
Should I get a ribbon for being invited? she wondered. “Wow. Maybe you’re a recluse after all. I, uh, left your jacket on the rocking chair. You probably want to have it cleaned or something.”
“Thanks.”
She made a turn, gesturing around the comfortable room. “This place is really neat and clean. You’re a good housekeeper.”
“Not really. I hire somebody to come in and swamp it out every couple of weeks or so. I’m not here that much, but I like things to be in order.”
“Everything looks to be remodeled. Did you do it yourself?”
“Some of it. I’m still working on it.”
“So you’re a carpenter as well as a cowboy.”
“Cowboy, yes. Carpenter, no. But I know how to hammer a nail.”
He picked up the two potatoes that were lying on the island counter and slid them into the oven. He returned to the island, leaned on his hand and jammed the other hand against his hip. “You still don’t think much of cowboys, do you? I hear the same derision in your voice I heard that day in Hogg’s down in Salt Lick.”
She winced inside, not liking that she appeared rude. “I don’t think anything at all of cowboys. I’m not criticizing. I’ve just never been around any. I was a town kid growing up, so...” She shrugged, seeing no point in discussing the issue.
“You couldn’t live in West Texas and not be around cowboys. You must not’ve grown up around here.”
“I certainly did. I grew up in Big Spring.”
“Big Spring’s got cowboys, too.”
“I still was never around cowboys.”
“You did business with ranchers in the bank. Unless you run into some of those investor types from back East, most ranchers are cowboys.”
She huffed, closed her eyes and lifted her palms in a peacemaking gesture. “All right already. I’ve run into a few cowboys.”
He grinned. “Point for me.”
“Are we having a contest?”
Grinning, he shrugged. “Arguing with you is fun.”
“For you maybe. You seem to enjoy picking on me.”
“You’re so sure you’re right.”
If you only knew. I’m not sure of anything I do nowadays.
“I should tell you, Harry spitting nasty stuff on me at this particular point in time is really weird. It’s like the gods of
