Cowgirl Next Door (Sutter's Hollow Book 3)

by Lacy Williams

  But this? Noah was going to file a complaint? One that would surely make its way onto the desk of the kids' social worker. No. She couldn't let that happen.

  4

  No. Noah wasn't doing this again.

  The persistent knocking at his front door started as he was lacing up his sneakers, getting ready for a workout in his home gym.

  It had to be Jilly. The kids were in school, right? She must've rushed over immediately after Aiden's phone call.

  His threat about calling the sheriff had been just that—a threat. He hadn't really intended to do it. But now? When she completely disregarded his request that she stay off his property?

  He finished tying his shoes and strode from his bedroom toward the kitchen, where he'd left his phone after breakfast this morning.

  He was done with Jilly and her kids interrupting his life.

  The knocking stopped as he passed from the hallway into the living room.

  But instead of silence, he heard the distinct sound of his front door opening. Cool air rushed in.

  Had she just opened the door?

  Movement in the doorway amped up his awareness. She had.

  "Noah, can we talk?"

  The door closed. And she was on the inside of it.

  What was left of his composure went out the window. "What the heck do you think you're doing? Breaking in to my house—"

  "Please don't call the cops."

  "Why shouldn't I? You're inside my house, uninvited!" But he remained frozen, in a strange no man's land between the hallway and the kitchen. He was breathing hard, as if he’d just completed a set of fifty nonstop push-ups. Each indrawn breath brought the faintest whiff of something flowery. A scent that meant Jilly.

  "If you would just answer your door, I wouldn't have to. Show some neighborly courtesy."

  "You've got some nerve coming in here and lecturing me about courtesy after what those kids did."

  She went silent.

  Fabric rustled, as if she'd shifted and her jeans-clad legs had rubbed each other. He experienced an instant memory of Jilly in her cowboy boots. Other teen girls had dressed in skirts or even cheerleading outfits. Not Jilly. She'd almost always been in a T-shirt, jeans, and scuffed old boots that looked as if they'd seen better days.

  He'd forgotten about that.

  * * *

  Jilly was handling this all wrong.

  She could see that Noah was upset in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his arms were crossed, his body language all closed off. It didn't help that she’d lost her composure. Why couldn’t he have just opened the door?

  She had to make him understand. She exhaled a breath that rattled her chest. "Look, I'm sorry. Can we please start over? I'll pretend you let me in when I knocked, and you pretend like I don't annoy the snot out of you."

  Was that a twitch of his lips? "I'm not sure I am that good of an actor."

  Oh. It wasn't a get out.

  He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to speak. And... she was still staring at him. She couldn't help it. He looked like he was getting ready to hit the gym. He wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt that had had its sleeves cut off and showed off the rippling muscles in his arms.

  As she stared, she felt warmth bloom low in her tummy. Attraction?

  She wasn't equipped to deal with it, so she started talking.

  "PJ and Lindsey lived with their grandma after their parents died. She was elderly and had some health problems, and they were left on their own a lot. Casey is their cousin and came to live with them after his dad went to prison."

  The talking wasn't working to distract her. She was still fixated on the man. She desperately cast her eyes around the living room as she spoke. It was spare, with an overstuffed couch and chair, a low coffee table. No sharp edges. There were no photos or paintings anywhere. No knickknacks. Through a doorway to the right, she could see his kitchen. The hallway behind him must lead to his bedroom and office.

  She refocused her thoughts. This was too important to mess up. "Their grandma's health got worse, and the kids went into foster care when she had to be admitted to a nursing home. They bounced among foster homes. Missed a lot of school. Sometimes they were together, sometimes separated. And now they're with me."

  She couldn't tell if hearing the kids' story was making a dent. Noah remained stubbornly silent, arms crossed.

  "They haven't had a lot of good influences in their lives. They need a stable place to land." And she had no intention of letting them go back into the system, where they'd fall through the cracks all over again. "I'm doing the best I can."

  He let his arms fall to his sides and stepped around the couch as he moved toward her. "As I recall, you had a pretty idyllic childhood. What makes you think you're qualified to parent them?"

  His words were a direct hit. Was she doing enough? What if she failed them?

  She raised her chin. "I love them. And things might be hard right now, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to give up."

  He strode toward her, still with that thunderous expression, and, for a brief second, she wondered if he would bodily throw her out. "It's a nice sob story, but I don't care. It's time for you to go."

  She stood her ground.

  He kept on coming, getting in her space before backing off slightly, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he carefully blanked it.

  He wasn't as cold as he pretended to be. He couldn't be.

  "Noah, please." She touched his forearm, which was surprisingly muscled beneath her fingertips.

  He jumped as if she'd physically struck him. When he took a half step back, her hand fell away.

  "I'm sorry. I am..." She exhaled. "Sorry."

  She hadn't been able to make out all the emotions that had flashed across his expression. But she couldn't stop now.

  "Have you ever...?" She inhaled a shaky breath. "My mom died during sophomore year. Before we were really friends. For a while, I was lost. Casey and PJ and Lindsey are lost too."

  Was that a crack in the tightness of his expression? She wished she could read him better. His eyes were unfocused, his gaze somewhere above her head.

  "Have you ever felt something like that?” she asked softly. “Have you ever been lost?"

  It was the wrong thing to say. It was as if a switch flipped inside him, and whatever slip of compassion disappeared completely.

  His frown intensified. "Please go. Keep your kids away. They've caused me enough trouble."

  Trouble. She swallowed hard. "You found out?"

  He'd reached past her to open the door. A rush of cold air hit her in the back, sliding under the edge of her coat. But he went still. "Found out what?"

  Oh. Oh no. There was nothing else to do but come clean.

  "They graffitied the front of your house," she said quietly. She said the expletive that had been written, and it made him flinch.

  Red crept up his jaw and into his cheeks.

  "It's black spray paint." Her voice was shaking now. "It's huge and ugly. Each letter is about as tall as I am. I don't know which one of them did it. I didn't see it until after they'd left for school." The boys were tight. She didn't know if she could get one of them to confess, or if it had been both of them together acting out.

  "They will have consequences," she said. "I'll pay to have it removed. What I'd really like is to have them to come over and work on it themselves."

  "No. Absolutely not." His voice was quiet, almost deadly. "Get out of my house. Stay away from me."

  "Please, Noah." She'd already been so rude, her mom would've been appalled. She'd entered his house without an invitation. She had no choice but to back out the door. "If you don't want them to work on the house, that's fine. I'll pay to have it fixed. Just don't call the sheriff. Please."

  He made no response, only snapped the door closed in her face. And turned the lock with a decisive click.

  What was she going to do now?

  5

  A hundred and fifty p
ushups later, arms shaking, and Noah still wanted to punch something.

  After he'd slammed the door on Jilly, he had picked up his phone to call the sheriff's office. He'd had his phone in his hand, ready to dial, when he'd heard her tractor start up from a distance. As if she'd just gone back to work, unaffected by what had happened.

  He'd used the energy coursing through him and started a workout that'd turned into a double.

  Now, he lay flat on the floor of the tiny third bedroom he'd converted into a home gym. He was drenched and had ditched his shirt an hour ago. The room reeked of sweat. He couldn't even summon the energy to cool down the way he should, or wipe down the floor mats with soap and water. Five more minutes. Then he'd make himself get up.

  Usually, after an intense workout like that, his brain was fuzzy and still.

  But this morning, his thoughts were roaring. And it was all Jilly's fault.

  He was still jangling from when she'd touched him earlier. He couldn't blame it entirely on the surprise. He'd known she was close. He'd nearly walked right into her. And he should've known she wouldn't back down even when he was trying to edge her out of his house.

  He could still feel the press of her fingers against his skin. The heat, the texture.

  For him, every touch was a surprise. He couldn't see when someone lifted their hand to touch him. She could've slapped him in the face and he would've had the same reaction. Her touch had shocked him.

  He’d starved himself from contact with others. which had made him hyper-sensitive to it.

  When he visited Mom, her hugs made him ache inside. Touch was what he missed the most in his isolated life.

  He'd felt the ache last night when he'd taken Lindsey's hand in his. That had been intentional, and he'd braced for it.

  He hadn't expected Jilly's touch and hadn't had time to shore up his defenses. Had she noticed his reaction? He felt a flush of shame at the thought.

  But it was her probing that made him feel like he was crawling out of his skin.

  Have you ever been lost?

  She couldn't have known how her words would hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, leaving him out of breath and with black spots swimming in his vision.

  Sutter's Hollow had been his second chance. His mom had moved them here when he'd been thirteen and in a dark place he'd never thought he'd crawl out of.

  For a while, he'd thought moving had been like some sort of magic charm. The demons he'd been running from had faded. He'd thought to exorcise them once and for all.

  And two days after he'd told his two best friends his deepest secret, he’d lost their friendship. The car accident had cost him his sight, but it was his past that had caught up with him that cost him the friendships he valued the most.

  Even now, panic swelled. Did she know his secret shame? He hadn't counted Jilly as a close friend, even though they'd been in the same circle. He'd only told Cord and Callum, and he’d sworn them both to secrecy.

  Callum had left town before Noah had been released from the hospital. Maybe even the night of the accident.

  Cord had left not long after.

  Noah had thought his secret was safe, but now the two men were back in town. Callum was married to Iris. Which meant Jilly probably saw him frequently. What if she'd mentioned that her mean old neighbor was Callum's former friend?

  And what if Callum wanted to share a little juicy gossip?

  Noah’s breath threatened to spiral out of control, and he rolled over on his back, throwing one arm over his eyes.

  His phone rang with a soft trill—the ringtone he'd assigned to his mom—and he was jarred out of his thoughts.

  He considered not answering because of how much of a mess he was mentally, but the last time he hadn't answered, she'd jumped in the car and arrived on his doorstep hours later for an impromptu visit.

  He ran one hand over his face, and then accepted her call.

  "Hey, Mom." He held the phone to his ear. Mom never insisted on video calls.

  "Hey, sweetie!" Mom's voice always made his heart quicken. She'd been his biggest supporter after the accident, pushing him to complete his O & M training, helping him furnish the house, listening to all of the audiobooks he recorded. She still sounded the same as she had a decade ago, her voice bright and warm.

  "Everything okay?" she asked. "You sound out of breath."

  "Finished a workout." She wouldn't know it was an excuse. "How's Steve?" His stepdad.

  "Oh, fine. We're taking a cooking class together. Turns out he's a better chef than I am, and he's been hiding it since we got married."

  Steve was almost a decade older than she was and had worked construction all his life, though he was making noises about retiring. He was one of the most easygoing people Noah had ever met. His mom had once described Steve as a bald Santa in steel-toed work boots.

  "Speaking of cooking, we were wondering if you'd changed your mind about coming down for Thanksgiving."

  He'd known she would bring it up. She wouldn't be Mom if she didn't worry about him, and the holiday was only a week and a half away.

  "I can't make it this year, Mom. I'm pushing to finish this contract on time."

  She didn't sound like she lost her smile when she said, "All right, honey. There's always Christmas."

  Mom knew why he preferred to be alone. And if she didn't agree with him, she gave in with good grace. This time.

  He wouldn't see her at Christmas either. Steve had purchased cruise tickets for the two of them months ago. It would be an anniversary surprise, and Mom didn't know yet. And it just happened that the cruise dates were the week of Christmas.

  "You sound upset, dear. Are you sure nothing's wrong? Are you getting enough sleep?"

  His thoughts whirled through an almost instant reel of all of it. Jilly. The troublemaker boys. Lindsey playing kitty at his door in the middle of the night.

  "Everything's fine." He forgave himself the little white lie. His mom worried too much.

  “Are you sure?”

  He felt a muscle tick in his jaw. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t find out the next time she visited.

  “I have a new neighbor.” He winced the moment the words slipped from his lips.

  His mom hadn't lived in Sutter's Hollow for years but kept up on local gossip thanks to social media and several of her friends. Mom had loved living in the small town. The house they'd moved into when he was a teenager was a 1950's bungalow that had been two blocks from both the middle school and high school.

  When he'd moved himself onto this twenty-acre farm seven years ago, his city-slicker mom had been appalled. She'd been in a new relationship with Steve at the time, and Noah had used her distraction to his advantage, moving before she really knew what he’d done. He'd wanted the emptiness. He still wanted it.

  "Anyone I know?" Mom asked.

  He ground his back teeth. Made himself inhale and exhale. Tried to sound normal. "Jilly Tatum."

  "Tatum?" He could imagine her tapping one finger against the corner of her lips, her eyes soft and unfocused. It was her favorite thinking pose. "Weren't you friends in high school?"

  "It was a long time ago." He pushed himself off the floor. Bent and brushed his fingertips along the floor until he found the sweaty shirt he'd tossed into the corner.

  "Not that long," Mom countered. "Have you gone over to say hi?"

  "No."

  "Well, you should make an effort. What if you need to borrow a cup of sugar sometime?"

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. He would rather go without. And Mom knew it.

  "I've got to—" Go.

  "She had a sister, didn't she?” Mom asked. “Which one married the famous bull rider?"

  Callum was the now world-famous bull rider. It hurt to squeeze out the words. "That's Jilly's sister. Iris."

  "Oh, that's right. Jilly is the one who had cancer. Goodness, it wasn't too long ago. Is she doing all right?"

  What? Mom's words made no sense.

  Jilly
didn't have cancer.

  She was annoying. Not sick.

  She'd fought like a bulldog. She couldn't be...

  Except Aiden had said she had short hair. Noah had always remembered it long, down past the middle of her back. Had she lost her hair because of chemo?

  "Are you sure?" His voice sounded foreign when he uttered the question. Hoarse and thick.

  "Oh, honey. I would have to look. I think I saw one of those online fundraisers on social media. You know, something about helping pay off medical bills. It might've been someone else."

  Yes. Maybe it was someone else.

  But the tightness in his chest didn't ease up.

  Mom had to be wrong. Jilly was too young to have cancer.

  "Mom, I need to go. I have to touch base with Aiden about this contract we're working on."

  It was an excuse, but she let him get away with it.

  "I love you, honey."

  "Love you, too, Mom." The words choked him up a little this time, and he didn't know why.

  Instead of heading for a shower, he went to his office.

  His skin felt too tight on his body. The stupid computer took too long to boot up.

  He only hesitated a second before he logged on to one of the social media sites he hadn't visited in years. He hated trying to navigate social media. None of them were user-friendly for people like him, people with vision impairments.

  It took too long for him to search for Jilly. They weren't connected on the app, so he could only find a snippet of information about her.

  No way was he sending her a friend request.

  He kept searching, this time looking up Iris's profile.

  And he found it. The fundraiser his mom had mentioned, with a public status so that anyone could see it. He scrolled through Iris's other posts, but couldn't find anything else about Jilly's cancer.

  Finally, he sat back in his chair, reeling. Jilly had breast cancer.

  Was she okay? Was she still getting treatments?

  It shouldn't matter to him.

  She was nothing to him.