“What kind of research?”
“You know, digging through statistics, talking to officials, and interviewing individuals and families, but I should be able to finish them both by tomorrow so I can help on Saturday.”
He whistled. “Wow, I don’t know how you can do that.”
“What? I know they’re very different writing styles, but…”
He shook his head. “No, I meant, write stories, period. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I mean, give me a horse, a bull, a broken tractor any day, and I could do what was needed. But writing? Not my forte.”
She chuckled. “Well, it’s a good thing you can do those things, otherwise I’d be in big trouble.”
He grinned. “I suppose so.”
The hot tension that had sprung up between them lowered to a simmer, then became comfortable. As they finished the rest of their meal with sporadic conversation, Addie realized that Cade had become a friend over the last couple of weeks. She might be ridiculously attracted to him, but that didn’t change that he was also kind and funny and—if his work was any indicator—extremely reliable. But there were times she sensed insecurity in him. Not in his abilities on the farm, but in his worth as a man. The way he would joke with her, laugh with her, and then his beautiful eyes would darken before he’d look away, or in how he refused to take a compliment.
“I really appreciate all the hard work you’re doing,” she’d commented at lunch a few days ago. “You’re really good at all this ranch stuff.”
He’d shrugged and avoided her eyes. “I’m not good for much else.”
Her heart had squeezed tight at that comment and she wondered at his self-deprecation. She had disagreed, but he’d only shrugged again and they’d finished that meal in relative silence.
Surreptitiously studying him now, she wondered once more, what caused him to be so down on himself? But she didn’t want to pry, so she kept her thoughts to herself.
When they’d finished eating their dinner, Cade helped her clear the table and clean the dishes.
“Thanks again for your help cleaning up,” Addie said as she closed the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a dishtowel.
“You’re welcome,” he said, drying the now clean pan she’d used to cook the meat, onions, and peppers for their fajitas.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“So you’ve said.” He opened the drawer beneath the oven and set the pan inside and then pushed the drawer closed.
His willingness to help with the domestic duties each day had been a pleasant surprise. The fact that he’d learned where everything went in her kitchen so quickly—and that their conversations during meals and clean up seemed so easy—was also a happy wonder. All of it felt…special in an odd way Addie couldn’t quite define.
“Well, I mean it,” she replied.
Straightening, Cade folded the damp towel and hung it from the oven handle to dry. He chuckled, and Addie’s insides twisted, then turned all soft and fuzzy.
“I know you do, but my mom taught us better than that.”
“Us?” Addie arched a curious brow.
He froze. Only for a brief moment, but Addie saw it.
Turning toward her, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, my brother and me.” He smiled sadly. “My mom made sure we knew how to take care of ourselves and the woman in our lives. She said it wasn’t right to expect a woman who works to take care of everything in the house.”
Her lips curled. “I think I’d like your mom.”
His eyes darkened, turned dull, and his whole body seemed to fold inward. “She’s dead. My dad, too.”
Addie gasped. “Oh, Cade,” she touched his arm consolingly, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course, you didn’t.” He shook his head and his sad half-grin broke her heart. “But thank you anyway.”
“Do you want to…talk about it?” She had no idea why she’d asked that. He just seemed so upset, as if his parents’ deaths had come recently and he was still grieving.
He stepped back away from her touch and leaned his hips against the kitchen counter, arms still crossed over his chest. “There’s not much to talk about. My mom died while I was in school several years ago. It was sudden, a brain aneurysm, and my dad was never the same afterward. He passed about two years later. My brother and I worked the ranch for a while, but it was a little…” he shrugged, “crowded. I decided to head out on my own and I’ve been amblin’ about ever since. End of story.”
“When did you talk to your brother last?”
His frown deepened. “We don’t talk much.”
“You and your brother don’t…get along?”
He sighed and his arms flexed against his chest. “You could say that.”
A lot more lay behind that statement, but Addie got the impression it was off-limits.
“How long have you been amblin’ around?” she asked instead, leaning her elbows on the end of the counter. This was the most he’d offered about himself since he arrived, and she was curious.
“Hmm,” he murmured, looking up at the ceiling, apparently counting in his head. “Five-ish years altogether.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.”
He nodded. “Yep…”
“Didn’t you say you’ve only been in rodeo for a couple of years?”
“Yeah.”
“So, why the delay?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think of trying it right away,” he said, pushing away from the counter and dropping his arms. “I’m beat. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll grab a shower and turn in.”
“Sure,” she said, sensing a barrier had dropped between them, effectively ending that topic of discussion. “I’m going to turn in soon, too.”
“I should be able to get the barn roof completed tomorrow,” he said, moving toward the hall, his shoulders sagging a bit. “Then I’ll check the machinery and make sure it’s all ready for Saturday.”
“Sounds good,” Addie said. “Goodnight, Cade.”
He stopped at
