“Talking to yourself is not a good sign,” she advised Karen. “I only have a second before it gets crazy in here. Are you okay? Need somebody to talk to?”
“I did, but Stella filled in.”
Cassie grinned. “She always has. Now sit tight. I imagine Emma will be in shortly to keep you company. Of course, Ford may be right behind her. The man’s been like her shadow lately. She still says it’s wearing on her nerves, but she hasn’t chased him off yet. What about you? Did you chase Grady Blackhawk off permanently the other day?”
“Afraid not,” Karen admitted ruefully. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. He was at the ranch all day yesterday and said he’d be back today.”
Cassie’s expression turned indignant. “All day? What is wrong with that man? He wasn’t pressuring you again, was he? Maybe Emma was right about getting a restraining order.”
“No, he wasn’t pressuring me, not the way you mean. In fact, just the opposite. He showed up and went straight to work without a word to me. When I caught sight of him, he was stripping the paint off the barn.”
Cassie looked as stunned as Karen had felt when she’d first seen him outside. “What? Why would he do a thing like that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said wearily. “He seems to have a list of projects he intends to help me with. Did I ask for that help? No. Do I want it? No. Does he listen to a word I say? No.”
Her friend chuckled. “Interesting. A man who can’t take no for an answer. I have one at home just like that.”
“Don’t even go there,” Karen said.
Before the morning was out, she had advice from Emma and Gina and Lauren, all of whom had popped in and out of Stella’s just long enough to grab some food before getting on with their days. Unfortunately, the only way Karen could get on with her day or her life would be to go home…where Grady would be waiting.
Since she was not prepared to deal with the man—or her own tangled emotions—again so soon, she headed for Laramie instead. Maybe a movie and some wistful window-shopping—the only kind of shopping she could afford right now—would get her mind off him. At the very least, it would mean she could delay dealing with Grady until tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the lead in the movie she chose looked a lot like Grady. And the actor who resembled her sexy nemesis was the romantic hero, not the villain. It seemed that everything was conspiring to change her opinion of Grady, which meant she was just going to have to cling more tightly to all the warnings Caleb had uttered over the years. Maybe, if she repeated them like a mantra, this uneasy weakening of her resolve would end, and she could go on with her life as before.
True, these days everything seemed a bit rocky and difficult, but she’d take that anytime over dealing with Grady and the unlikely, inappropriate feelings he’d begun to stir in her.
* * *
Grady didn’t bother going to the door when he arrived the next day. He just started to work, counting on Karen to spot him sooner or later as she had the day before. He couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from drifting to the house now and again, though, as he tried to imagine what Karen was up to inside.
Was she baking again? Those cookies had been the best he’d had in a long time. He couldn’t help wondering if there were any left or when she might appear with a few. Or maybe she’d taken the hint about an apple pie. Maybe one was cooling on top of the stove right now. He’d been on his own so long that the mere thought of home-baked treats made his mouth water.
Fortunately, he’d learned never to rely on wishful thinking when it came to food or drink. He’d brought a thermos filled with coffee and a cooler with him. The latter was filled with sandwiches and sodas, enough to share in that warm, cozy kitchen if the opportunity arose. He didn’t like the stirring of disappointment he felt when noon came and went with no sign of the woman with whom he’d meant to enjoy his meal.
So far the only company he’d had were the two part-time hands, who regarded him with suspicion when they found him atop a ladder scraping the last of the paint off the side of the barn.
“Who’re you?” the grizzled older man had demanded within a few minutes of Grady’s arrival.
“Grady Blackhawk,” he replied, keeping his temper in check at their obviously dismayed reaction to his name. “And you?”
“Ain’t none of your business who we are. We belong here and you don’t. What are you doing on Hanson property and makin’ yourself right at home, at that?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Not to me it ain’t,” the old man said. “No way Mrs. Hanson would let you come sniffin’ around here, much less approve of you bein’ out here messin’ with her barn.”
“And why is that?” he asked, curious to see what Karen might have said about him.
“Because now that her husband’s dead and buried, you’re trying to steal this place right out from under her,” the younger man said. He gestured toward the paint cans stacked nearby in readiness for the next step in Grady’s project. “You trying to work up a debt she won’t be able to pay off?”
“Absolutely not,” Grady insisted. “I’m just doing her a favor.”
“Now why would you do that, unless you had somethin’ up your sleeve?” the old man asked. “Nobody does somethin’ for nothin’.”
“Is that a fact?” Grady asked mildly. “Well, in this case, you’re wrong. I’m just being neighborly.”
“Humph!” the old man said with a snort of disbelief. “Good thing she ain’t around to see this. Woman has enough on her mind without seein’ you out here makin’ like you have a right to be here.”
“Karen’s not home?”
