“I wasn’t expecting you out here today.”
She shielded her eyes from the sun with her fingers. “It was a last minute thing. Do you happen to know where Brody is?”
“Ah, so you’re the one he’s making lunch for. Mercy’s been muttering about that for the past hour.”
“Lunch? Oh, no. I am just stopping by to…” She fumbled with her purse to pull out her cell phone. “To…take pictures for Brody.”
“Oh. Well, you might want to stay for a bite. Good smells have been coming out of Brody’s house for the past hour. And it’s not for us.”
Brody hadn’t said anything about eating lunch. She suddenly wondered if she’d gotten her days mixed up and he was expecting someone else.
“Thanks.” She lifted her hand and pointed toward the out building in the field on the other side of the barn. “Which one?”
“Last house. The smaller one. Just follow your nose.”
She waved to Trip and then turned toward the path that led to the bunkhouse and Brody’s place. Every time she came out to the ranch, she was wearing the worst shoes possible. She worked in a store. She wore flats that were comfortable to be in all day. She didn’t walk over gravel paths or through grass like she did here on the ranch.
When she reached the small house, she understood what Trip said about following her nose. The smell of something cooking was filtering out onto the porch. Before she knocked on the door, she bent over and brushed the dust and grass clippings that had covered her shoes as best she could. Before she could straighten up again, the door swung open.
“I thought I heard someone,” Brody said, looking down at her. His expression went from calm to panic in a split second as he reached down to help her up. “Are you okay?”
She straightened up and released her arm from his hold. “Of course. Why would you…” She glanced down at her shoes which were a bigger mess now that she’d tried to wipe away the dust and realized he’d misunderstood. “I wasn’t hurt. These shoes aren’t meant for walking around the ranch.”
He glanced down quickly and nodded. “I can fix that. Come on in.”
She stepped into the main room, which by measure was relatively small. The floors and the walls were all knotty pine. Brody disappeared into the kitchen and then came out with a damp paper towel.
“Have a seat,” he said, handing her the paper towel.
“Thank you.”
She found the nearest seat and dropped her purse to the floor. With a few quick strokes, she washed the dust off her shoes until they looked normal again. She’d have to wait to deal with the little bits of grass clippings that continued to cling to her pants until she got back to the store where she kept a lint roller for situations just like this.
“Something smells good.”
“Thanks. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Oh, I can’t stay for lunch.”
He frowned as he sat down opposite her on the sofa. “What do you mean? I invited you over for lunch.”
“I thought I was here to see your place and help you.”
“You are. That doesn’t mean we can’t eat too.”
There was a light breeze coming in through the open window, but Tara still felt closed in. Wasting no time, she got down to business.
“So this is it, huh?” she said, looking around.
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“It’s nice. Small, but functional.”
“It seems huge to me,” Brody said, smiling.
“It’s bigger than my place,” she said.
His eyebrows stretched on his forehead. “Yeah?”
“Well, yeah. This is a house. I live in an apartment.”
She continued to look around.
“It’s…”
“Tan.”
She chuckled. “Yes. And beige in some places. And full of wood.”
“Yes.”
“Now I understand what you mean about the bowl.”
He’d placed the bowl on the coffee table. The colors were vibrant compared to the rest of the room.
“It doesn’t really belong there,” she said, almost feeling bad for pointing it out.
“I figured as much. Where should I put it?”
“It’s a kitchen bowl. So I could suggest putting it on the kitchen table with some fruit in it. Or on your counter.”
“But I’m hardly ever in the kitchen.”
She smiled. Standing up, she reached for the bowl and walked over to a small cabinet by the window. She took her finger, rubbed a little bit of dust off the top, and placed the bowl down.
“You need a housekeeper.”
“I’ve never had one. Trip has someone come in to clean, but I don’t need someone. This place is too small.”
“You’ll rethink that the busier you get. Do you like where the bowl is placed?”
She cocked her head to one side to look at it a little better. The colors looked nice against the wood.
When she turned, she caught him looking at her, not the bowl.
“It’s nice.”
She cleared her throat. “What colors are you drawn to?”
He shrugged. “The bowl. I like that.”
She chuckled. “You’re going to have to work with me a little harder, Brody. There is a whole lot more than that bowl out there.”
“You have a pretty smile. I like that too. You should smile more.”
She drew in a deep breath.
“Let’s just stick to decorating, okay?”
He pushed up from the sofa. “Sure. So now you’ve seen my place. Everything is tan,” he said. “I have tan walls. A tan table. Knotty pine floors. I’m not really sure what color that couch is but it’s some sort of tan.”
Tara scrutinized the sofa that sat in front of the woodstove. “Beige. Same family as tan.”
Brody lifted his hands and pointed to the bowl. “And then there is that bowl. It’s full of life and color. I can assure you that anything you do is a lot better than I could do on my own. As I told you yesterday, I’m not asking for a fancy decorator. I just want something that will bring some life to the room. You see, I’ve spent a lot of time in drab environments, almost afraid to put my mark them. I usually don’t stay in one job long
