Fighting Love for the Cowboy (A Moose Falls Romance Book 1)

by Anne-Marie Meyer

  She hesitated but then settled back into her chair. “It’s in the trunk.”

  Sean nodded and pulled on the door handle.

  Thomas glanced behind him as Sean walked up. “Hey Sean,” he said as he pressed on the lever next to him. The front part of her car began to rise.

  “Thanks for grabbing this, man,” he said, extending his hand. They shook.

  Thomas nodded. “No problem. Sorry it took me so long to get out here.”

  Sean waved his comment away. “Do you mind me grabbing something from the trunk?”

  “Nope.”

  Sean walked over to the driver side door and pulled it open. Once he’d popped the trunk, he walked around and grabbed her suitcase. Just as he pulled it out, the top flopped open and all the contents dumped onto the ground. Lacy underwear and pressed shirts spilled all over the dirt road.

  Sean’s face burned as he stooped down to pick them up. He heard the door of his truck open and could only assume it was Christine rushing over to help.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, grabbing the clothes and stuffing them back into her luggage.

  “My fault,” he said. His voice came out raspy. Clearing his throat, he decided not to focus on what holding her underwear was doing to his body parts.

  Once all the clothes were safely in the suitcase, Christine zipped it up and grabbed the handle. She lifted it and started to make her way over to the truck. Sean quickened his pace to catch up with her. He reached out and curled his fingers around the handle.

  “Here, let me help,” he said, trying to ignore how soft her skin felt when he brushed his fingers against it.

  Christine stopped and turned to meet his gaze. She dropped the suitcase as if their brief encounter surprised her. Did that mean she felt something too? Was it just him?

  “Okay,” she said as she turned and made her way over to the truck and climbed into it. She slammed the door just as he dropped her suitcase inside of the bed of his truck and opened the driver’s door.

  He started his truck, trying to ignore what had happened. How could he be such an idiot? Why was he letting himself get close to this IRS auditor? He needed to remind himself of what she was here to do. She was here to take away his ranch. He shouldn’t be getting feelings for her.

  They drove in silence all the way back to the ranch. He pulled up to the back of the house and turned off the truck. Christine reached out her hand and fingered the door handle.

  “Thanks for getting my luggage for me. It’ll be nice to wear some of my clothes.”

  He looked over at her, cursing himself for thinking about how good she looked in Emma’s shirt and jeans. For a moment, it felt like she belonged here. But then he stifled a scoff and pushed those thoughts from his mind. She would never stay in Moose Falls. She was going to come and go faster than the rain during a drought.

  “Come on, let’s go. There’s papers for you to sort. And knowing my Pops, it’s not going to be easy. He was never a bookkeeper kind of guy.” Sean pulled open his door and hopped out. He went over to the bed and pulled at her suitcase. By the time he’d rounded the truck, Christine was standing next to it, watching him.

  There was something in her gaze, a look that made him uncomfortable. He forced a relaxed smile as he passed by her.

  He could hear the gravel crunch under her feet as she followed after him. The silence that surrounded them felt deafening. He decided to focus on something else. Getting her into the house and started on the audit seemed like the best idea.

  He jogged up the porch steps and opened the screen door. Once inside the foyer, he set the suitcase down onto the floor and slipped off his shoes.

  “We’re home, Pop,” he called out. He shifted his gaze toward the back of the house. Where was he? With his health issues, Pop wasn’t able to go out to work on the ranch alone. Panic arose in Sean’s chest as he started to make his way over to the stairs.

  But the sight of his grandfather sitting in the rocking chair in the living room stopped him in his tracks. He made his way into the room, and his heart squeezed in his chest when he saw what his grandfather was holding. A picture of Sean’s grandmother, who’d died a year ago.

  “Hey Pops,” he said as he approached and knelt down next to him. He reached out and rested his hand on his grandfather’s weather-worn one. “You okay?”

  His grandfather looked over at him. There was pain in his expression and a downturn to his lips. Sean swallowed as he patted his grandfather’s hand.

  “I know,” he said, emotion choking his throat. Even though his Pops hadn’t said anything, Sean knew what the problem was. His grandfather would have done anything to keep the cancer from taking her life. Anything.

  “I miss her,” Pops said, his voice breaking.

  Sean nodded. “Me too.”

  Movement next to him drew his attention over to the entrance of the room. Christine had removed her boots and was leaning against the doorframe. She was watching them, her eyebrows drawn together.

  Sean stood and walked over toward her. He was conflicted. Part of him wanted to share this portion of his life with her. For her to know just how broken his family had become once his grandmother had passed away. The other part told him to protect himself. To keep her at a distance. There was no reason she should learn all of this about him. She was here for a job and then would leave to go back to Washington, DC.

  So, he let his hand graze her elbow as he led her away from his grandfather’s reverie.

  “Come on, let me get you the boxes so you can get started,” he said as he extended his hand toward the study at the end of the hall.

  Christine allowed him to guide her. “Is your grandpa okay?” she asked as her gaze made its way back to the living room.

  “Yeah. He’ll be okay. Just. . . memories.” Sean swallowed against the emotional lump that had formed in his throat.

  “Memories.” Her voice came out soft—as if she understood without him saying the words.

  “Yeah. Not really something I like to talk about.” He pulled open the door to the study and nodded toward the desk that sat in the center of the room. “You can set up shop here.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. The walls felt as if they were closing in on him. He needed to get outside to the sunshine and fresh air. Where everything made sense.

  Christine walked into the study and glanced around. The walls were adorned with pictures. As he watched her make her way over to them and study the photographs, all he wanted to do was shoo her from the room.

  She was rapidly learning too many things about him. Secret things. Memories that he wanted to share with only people who cared about him. Who weren’t here to take away the very thing that he loved. So many conflicting emotions raced through his mind and body. He needed to get out of there.

  “I’ll go grab the boxes,” he said, backing up toward the hallway.

  Christine nodded.

  Once he was out of her line of sight, he sighed. He really needed to get his head on straight. There was no reason for him to be acting like this. He just needed some distance from her, that was all. Thankfully, once he got the boxes down from the attic, he’d get that time. There was so much work to do around the ranch that he wasn’t going to have any time to think about anything. Much less an aggravating auditor that had his head spinning.

  After digging around in the attic, he found all the receipts and documents packed away in boxes. When he opened the lid, he shuffled a few around. The dates ranged from last year to five years ago. He winced at how disorganized his grandfather had been. Their bookkeeping was definitely going to give Christine a run for her money.

  But, that’s why she was here.

  Grabbing all the boxes he could locate, he brought them down one at a time. He then made his way to the study, where he dropped off the first box.

  Christine was sitting in the desk chair, staring out the window. When he came in, she glanced over at him and stood. “This all?” she asked, lifting the lid to the box.
“It doesn’t look too bad.”

  Sean snorted. “This is just the first box. I have five more coming.”

  Christine’s eyes widened. “Five?”

  “They’re all intermingled with each other,” he said as he waved his hand toward the box and made his way back down the hall. If she protested, he didn’t hear.

  When the sixth box was finally unloaded, Sean clapped his hands. “Well, I’m going to head out to do some work. You go ahead and get started.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Feel free to help yourself to whatever’s in there. There’s not much, but you should be able to scrape something together.”

  She followed his gesture toward the kitchen. “Are you not coming back for lunch?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t have time. Got lots to do. I probably won’t be back until tonight.” He turned to make his way out of the room but then stopped. “Are you going to be okay?” He was nervous about leaving this woman alone in his grandfather’s house. What was she going to do? Could he really trust her?

  Christine pinched her lips together and nodded. “I think I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got a ton of work here.” She moved her hand around in the air above the boxes.

  Sean looked at her once more and then nodded. “Okay. I might stop up in a few hours just to make sure everything’s okay.”

  She waved him away. “Not necessary. I probably won’t leave this room. Once I’m in the zone, I’m in the zone.” She held up a stack of papers and began riffling through them.

  Before he went ahead and said something stupid, Sean turned and left the room. He grabbed his keys from the table in the hallway. Pops was fast asleep in his rocking chair when Sean peeked into the room. Before he could talk himself out of leaving, Sean pulled open the front door and bounded down the stairs.

  It was time he started working. He was so behind. He needed to stop letting Christine distract him as much as she was. He needed to focus—not lose sight of what was really important. Keeping his ranch, that was all that mattered. And he’d make sure that it stayed that way.

  Chapter Eight

  Christine

  Christine sighed as she rested against the desk chair. It rocked back from her weight. The ache that had taken up residence in her neck didn’t dull. Desperate for some relief, she reached up and rubbed her shoulder.

  As she glanced out the window, her eyes widened. The sun was already below the horizon—sending orange and pink streaking across the sky.

  She gazed at the clock on the wall.

  Seven o’clock?

  She shuffled the stack of papers and stood. Her legs protested as she tried to force life back into them. How had she worked for eight hours straight? When her gaze fell to the two open boxes, she sighed. That’s how she’d lost track. Sean’s grandfather was a lot of things but organized was not one of them.

  He had so much information packed into the six boxes that she hadn’t really known where to start. So, instead of driving herself mad, she decided to start with organizing the papers by dates. That had taken up most of her time.

  She walked out of the study and into the hallway. After she pulled the door shut behind her, she swept her gaze around. Where was everyone?

  Her socks made no noise against the dark wood floor as she made her way toward the kitchen. It was eerily quiet here. No police sirens going off. No rush of evening traffic. The sound of crickets outside was the only thing that broke up the silence.

  She made her way over to the fridge and pulled it open. There wasn’t much inside. Some meat and eggs. A squishy apple sat in the back. Christine wrinkled her nose as she shut the door. None of this was going to work.

  Besides, if she were completely honest with herself, she was a terrible cook. What looked like a meal waiting to be put together to someone else, only looked like odds and ends to her.

  “That’s an interesting expression.”

  Sean’s deep, playful voice caused her to jump. Turning, she saw him leaning against the door frame. He was watching her with a smile teasing his lips. His hair was damp. He had on a t-shirt that accented his tanned skin and muscular arms.

  Heat instantly raced to her cheeks when she realized that she was staring. Trying to come across as a normal person, she smiled over at him. “Just trying to figure out what to make,” she said, pulling open a cupboard only to realize that it was full of canning jars. “Just not in there,” she said under her breath.

  “Yeah, there isn’t a lot that you can make with jars,” he said.

  From the corner of her eye she saw him push off the wall and walk into the kitchen. Well, more sauntered in. As if he owned the place. Which he did. What was the matter with her?

  She should not be thinking any of the thoughts that were rolling around in her mind. He was the client getting investigated. That was all. She needed to remember that.

  He pulled out the barstool from the counter and patted the cushion. “Why don’t you take a seat and let the master work.”

  Christine studied the seat. Part of her wanted to run from the room. To leave this place and all the confusing cowboys that lived here. The other part wanted to see just what exactly he could whip up from a soft apple and meat. So, she shrugged and sat. “This should be interesting.”

  Sean moved over to the fridge, where he studied her. “What should be interesting?”

  She motioned toward the fridge. “Seeing what you can make from the contents in there.”

  Sean laughed as he pulled out the eggs and steak. “Oh, ye of little faith. This is something my granny always taught me. On a ranch, all you need is a few good staples and you can make just about anything.”

  Christine studied him as a forlorn expression passed over his face. Something had happened in his family and she had a suspicion that it had something to do with his grandmother. From the way his grandfather had been holding the picture frame earlier, she must have passed away.

  Was it strange that she wanted to know what that was? Would it be weird to ask? Perhaps she should take a less direct route. She smiled and rested her arm on the counter. “She sounds like quite the woman.”

  Sean had grabbed some flour from the cupboard next to the stove and nodded. “She was.” Then he pinched his lips together as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

  A familiar ache rose up in Christine’s chest. She knew what it was like to lose someone close to her. Both sets of her grandparents had passed away in the last five years. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she traced the counter top with her fingertips.

  Sean set the flour next to the meat and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if he too were trying to keep his emotions at bay. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It was hard.”

  Christine’s heart swelled from his confession. For the first time since she’d gotten here, she felt as if he were opening up to her, and that made her both excited and scared. She wanted to learn more. To speak openly with him. Was that too much to ask?

  “How’s your grandpa taking it?”

  Sean paused and glanced over at her and then toward the living room. “It’s hard for him. They’d been married since he was nineteen.”

  Christine raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s young.”

  Sean shrugged as he got out a bowl. “Back then, it wasn’t. Besides, when you’re in love—you’re in love. There’s really not much to it.” He set the bowls down in front of him then returned to the fridge and removed a jug of milk.

  If only it were that simple. Trouble was, Christine was having a hard time finding anyone who wanted to love her back. She had just about enough heartbreak to swear dating and marriage off completely.

  Before her head caught up with her mouth, she blurted out, “Have you ever been in love like that?” Just as the words left her lips her heart began to pound. How could she be such an idiot? “Er—I mean—” But then she clamped her mouth shut. There was really no redeeming herself from that question.

  Sean was dumping flour into a bowl when he glanc
ed up at her. “Are you asking me if I’ve ever been married or if I’ve been in love like that?”

  Thankful that he hadn’t written her off as an idiot, Christine sat back on the barstool. “Both.”

  Sean cracked some eggs into another bowl. “Neither. Moose Falls isn’t exactly bursting at the seams with eligible women. And if you go into the city, not a lot of women want to give up their cushy lifestyle to be a rancher’s wife.” He grabbed a whisk and began beating the eggs.

  Christine watched the movement. It mesmerized her. On one hand, she understood what he was saying. It was like a different world here. It was alive. It breathed and beat to its own rhythm. But that was what was so amazing about it.

  “I didn’t understand, but I think I’m starting to,” she confessed, keeping her gaze trained on the counter in front of her. When Sean didn’t reply, she looked over at him. Had she said the wrong thing? Just her luck, she’d scared him off. Maybe this was what Parker had meant when he told her she dove into her assignments head first. That she allowed herself to care too much for those she was auditing.

  Braving his reaction, Christine lifted her gaze to meet his. He was studying her with a confused look on his face. Like he was trying to figure her out. Truth was, she wasn’t too complicated. When her gaze met his, he held it for a moment before he cleared his throat and turned his focus back to the eggs in front of him.

  “Have you ever had chicken fried steak?” he asked as he returned to whipping the contents of the bowl.

  “Once,” she said. “My grandpa grew up in the south. He made it for me when I stayed with him.”

  Sean nodded. “Good. I’m gonna make you some.” He glanced up at her as he nodded toward the steak that was sitting on the counter. “But where I come from, everyone helps.”

  Christine laughed. “You don’t understand. I’m the worst cook.”

  Sean shook his head. “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t cooking. I need you to pound the meat.”

  “You want me to what?”