Delivery to the Farmhouse (Havenwood Cowboys Romance #4)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I couldn’t stop thinking about Colton’s offer all through my shower and while sorting through a few more boxes. He was sweet. He was withdrawn, a little timid, and he had a dry sense of humor that I liked—but I couldn’t let any of these make me give in against my better judgment.

My stomach growled, so I let it lead me to the fridge. One look told me all I needed to know—it was emp-ty.

Pouting out my lip, I stared around my equally bare kitchen. I needed to hit up The Mercantile or make a trip into Burley to an actual grocery store and get, you know, some real food.

Or you could go to that community thing, a little voice nudged. I smashed it down like the first sighting in a round of Whack-a-Mole.

The community summer fling was definitely an option. There was bound to be food there—but Colton Holden would probably also make an appearance.

Then again, why should I avoid social gatherings just to avoid him?

He could do his thing. I’d do mine. We’d keep it simple .

Before I decided whether to go to Burley or stay, a knock sounded on my door.

The unfortunate thing about living in this basement apartment was that there was no simple way to answer the door. Since the door was at the top of a very long and narrow line of stairs, I had to climb up them to answer it.

Dorothy Erikson stood at the threshold, smiling and holding a plate of something with plastic wrap over it. She gave me the sweetest smile, one I couldn’t help but return.

“Hi, Dorothy,” I said.

“Hi, there, Natalie. I’m the worst landlady. You moved in over two weeks ago, and I haven’t made it down to welcome you in.”

Um, did she not remember how she helped me carry my stuff down here? Maybe that hadn’t been formal enough of a welcome for her.

Also, had it really already been two weeks? Working in a blue-collar job, manual labor made time pass more quickly.

Her smile slipped. She lowered the cookies only to push them more insistently toward me, and I realized I hadn’t said anything else yet.

“You really don’t have to,” was the first thing out of my mouth.

She fanned the cookies in front of my face. “I know, but I was making some cookies for the potluck tonight and had a few extra I thought I’d bring to you. How are you settling in?”

“I’m good,” I told her.

And I was. I didn’t have much by way of furniture—just some spare items that my brother and his wife were getting rid of. Table. Secondhand couch to sit on. A banana chair. But I did have a bed, which was vital, especially once I took a shower after a long day.

Most of my belongings were in boxes, including my books since I didn’t have any shelves to put them on. And I had a keyboard and a stash of sheet music from my piano and ukulele days in high school, though I didn’t play much anymore .

A third option made itself known: Skip dinner. Don’t go to Burley. Eat cereal and snuggle up in bed instead.

That was far too appealing.

Dorothy wasn’t having it. It was like she read my mind because she pushed the plate at me again. “Here you go,” she said.

I took the plate this time.

The cookies looked delicious with perfect ratios of chocolate chip and mounds. And there were at least twenty on this plate.

That was a lot of cookies.

“You be sure to let me know if you have any trouble down there, you got it?” she said. “I don’t read minds, and the walls may be thin, but that still doesn’t mean I can see through them!” She laughed.

“I will,” I said, holding the plate and bracing a hand against the wall since the stairs descended behind me.

“You coming to the potluck? You heard about it, right?”

Oh, I’d heard about it all right. I hadn’t made any definitive plans. The bed option was still looking pretty tempting, but my stomach gave another grumble, one that made Dorothy’s eyes flick down to my waistline.

I hugged my free hand around my middle. “I don’t know that I have anything I can bring.”

Dorothy waved this off. “You should come. Folks will want to jaw it up about the new postmaster, and they’ll want to know how you’re doing since you stopped working there.”

That was exactly why I didn’t want to go. People in Bridgewater were nosy.

It would be the baby shower all over again.

“Thanks, I’ll think about it. And thank you for the cookies.”

“You bet!”

When she left, I turned around, made it back down the stairs, placed the cookies in my kitchen, and stared at my apartment. With it being in the basement, there was sunlight through the egress window, but other than that, the majority of places down here were dark.

I remembered the empty state of my fridge. There was a whole lot of nothing. I could bring milk, maybe. Or peanut butter. After Dorothy’s visit, I suddenly didn’t want to be alone tonight.

There was always The Elkhorn. I could eat there and skip the socializing.

Or I could grab a bag of chips from The Mercantile and bring that.

Or I could be lame and bring the plate of cookies Dorothy gave to me. It wasn’t like I was going to eat all those by myself. But that would be tacky.

After digging through my cupboards, I found a box of Rice-a-Roni. That would have to do. After fixing it, I tied my hair back into a braid, threw on some regular clothes, and carried my meager serving of rice back up the stairs and outside.

The Square wasn’t that far from Dorothy’s house, and I was in the mood for some fresh air, so rather than making for my car, I strolled down the sidewalk toward the center of town.

The evening air was warm, the sky still a bright blue. I loved Idaho in the summertime, and I ambled, keeping my eyes on the horizon.

Kids were playing at the playground. A band was setting up their speakers and equipment on a makeshift stage. Bex Holden had one hand on her belly and gave directions to what had to be the committee over this event, directing where to set up the cornhole boards. I took my bowl to the table already groaning beneath bowls and platters of food.

That was something in Bridgewater’s favor—people were nosy, busybodies, but when it came to coming together, they really came together.

Lights were strung from poles at one corner of the Square to another. Tables and chairs were positioned in the grassy open area just off from the playground and the statue and monument honoring our veterans.

Gina and Bill Hansen sat at a pair of folding chairs at the end of one of the tables. Gina’s predatory sniffer picked up the scent of possible gossip, and she poked her head up from the safety of her burrow.

“I heard your folks left town,” she said, smiling in that way she always did. That smile wasn’t out of niceness but because baring her teeth was far less socially acceptable.

“Yeah, they made it.” I left it at that. Gina was nosier than a lying Pinocchio. That thing grew longer by the hour.

I’d liked her well enough as a kid until she’d spread a rumor about my sister, Chelsea.

She’d caught wind that Chelsea had been smoking behind the movie theater using stolen cigarettes—not true, for the record. It didn’t matter if it was true or not; that rumor had been the reason Chelsea hadn’t made the swim team that year. She’d been devastated.

Reality had struck like lightning, crackling through the sky and showing her true colors. It’d been like one of those werewolf transformations where she was a human one minute, and then next she was snarling, and her eyes were green with cat-slit-eye pupils.

I hadn’t spoken to Gina much since.

That didn’t stop her from trying to talk to me, however.

“How come you didn’t go with them?” she asked. “You know there’s not much left here for you, not after Jensen Cummings quit town the way he did.” She sniffed and eyed Jensen’s parents as though they were at fault for their son leaving.

Aaaand, that was my cue to beat it.

“You know, I’d better go introduce myself to the new postmaster,” I said, jabbing my thumb in the general direction of anywhere else. An homage to the binder sitting on my couch back home.

I didn’t wait for any kind of confirmation before turning on my heel and walking away.

But I didn’t go to meet Tad Benion and his wife. I meandered closer to the playground. Kids weren’t judgmental—not the way some adults were.

Belle and Luke pulled up in Luke’s truck. Belle waved to me as she slid out, and Luke’s younger brother, Kyler, stepped out of the back seat. He paused to retrieve a long case from the truck.

When did he get so tall? And since when did he play the guitar?

Waving to a few people, Kyler—or Hoss, as they called him—made his way to the stage. He greeted several of the other men standing on the stage and set his guitar case on top.

“Hey, Natalie,” Allie said, approaching. She was hand-in-hand with Bryce. He waved with his free hand.

I did, too. It was easier seeing the two of them together. In this moment, bygones were bygone. They were a beautiful couple.

Bryce had this smoldering look to him, with his dark hair and handsome physique, and Allie was like a supermodel, completely put together in a blue blouse and dark pants. Her toenails were painted red and peeking out of the end of her sandals.

“Since when does Kyler play guitar?” I asked.

“Just started about a year ago,” Bryce said. “Hoss has a new teacher and has just taken off.”

“And he’s in a band?” Was he the replacement singer Drake had mentioned during lunch earlier?

“He’s been trying to find someone to play with him and came across a drummer while he was at school in Pocatello.”

“So he came all the way back here to play tonight?”

“Yeah,” Bryce said. “He’ll take any chance he can get.”

The squealing sound of a speaker hitting interference scraped my ears, hitting the wrong way. I bent and covered my head with my hands—as did pretty much everyone else around.

Tesha Bradshaw, who owned The Frontier Inn and was also on the city council, stood on the stage, tapping the mic and gaining everyone’s attention. Bex and Dawson sat at a table, with her three kids sitting on chairs near them. Luke and Belle sat close by, and others around town stilled and gave her their attention.

My eyes caught Colton’s from across the grass. He stood by Kyler, holding a cord and handing it to him. As if he sensed me watching him, his attention veered in my direction. Our eyes caught, and it was like the little lightbulbs hanging all across the square flickered.

He lifted a hand in my direction. Smiling, I greeted him back, feeling squeamish though I didn’t know why.

“This looks like a mighty fine spread!” Tesha said. “We’ve also got a brand-new band playing their debut tonight! We’re excited to hear more from Whiskey Creek!”

Applause sounded. The members on the stage lifted their hands and then resumed setting up.

Tesha cleared her throat. “Let’s say a blessing on the food and we’ll dig in! Bob, if you’ll give us the invocation.”

The prayer was said, and then people lined up with plates around the food tables. Music began in down-to-earth tones filling the square. Kids gathered around the stage, jumping up and down and cheering for the four band members.

Attendees gathered to put food on their plates, bobbing their heads in time to the music. I joined them, eyeing the stage.

It was hard to believe the band had never played together before. Their music was easy and mellow, the perfect serenade while the rest of us enjoyed our dinner.

“Natalie!” Emily Stone waved me over. “Nat! Come sit here!”

Smiling, I carried my plate and joined her, and I was surprised to find that Jo was sitting there as well. She wore a pair of overalls over a black tube top, and her brown curls tumbled down her back.

“This is my friend, Oakley,” Jo said. “She lives in Burley.”

A girl about Jo’s age with pointed features and blonde hair hanging in long ringlets waved. Big sunglasses perched atop her head. She’d pushed them back since this part of the Square was mostly shaded.

“Hey,” Oakley said, waving. “This is the cutest town. I’ve driven through Bridgwater on the way to the ski resort, but this is the first time I’ve ever been to one of your community events.”

“I kept telling her to come check things out,” Jo said.

“I’ll check out that lead singer,” Oakley said, lifting her glass toward Kyler Holden on the stage.

“He is gorgeous, just like the rest of them,” Emily said, sinking back in her chair and licking her bottom lip.

“You do realize Kyler is like ten years younger than you,” I said dryly.

Emily shrugged. “He’s got the Holden genes.”

“Actually, they’re Levis.”

I startled and turned around. Colton was behind me. My heart gave a little flip when his fingers brushed my shoulder, and I wondered how long he’d been standing there, listening to our conversation.

I eyed Jo. Why hadn’t she told me he was right there?

Then again, she didn’t know the current fetish my thoughts were having with him.

“It’s the jeans I wear, anyway,” he said when none of us replied.

Genes. Jeans. Same difference. He looked good in them either way.

Not that I’d checked him out in jeans whatsoever, but when a man had a backside like he did, it was hard not to notice. My thumping heart kicked up a few more spikes on my internal Richter scale.

“Hi, there,” Emily said, pushing her untouched plate of food away from her.

Like not eating would make her more attractive.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” she went on, leaning toward him. The motion allowed her shirt’s v-neckline to lower that much more .

Could she be any more obvious?

“Actually, I’m glad you asked,” he said in this provocative tone.

My stomach clenched. He can ask her out, I told myself. It was fine. I’d told him no. It was only natural that he would move on to someone else.

See, heart? This is me NOT caring.

Rather than give in to her advances, he kept his hand on the back of my chair and knelt at my side. “It’d be a shame to put a good song to waste,” he said. “Would you like to dance with me, Natalie?”

My cheeks were on fire. I was highly aware of the other girls watching every spec of this moment take place.

What was he doing? First asking me out—now, this?

The girls grinned at him, giving me expectant glances. The warning signs of an earthquake had been rumbling, but up to this point they’d only been preliminary shocks. The full shaking had only just begun.

And yet, I grew eager at the prospect. At the sweetness and the dash of a shimmer in his eyes.

He had a lot of courage to come here and ask me like this, especially with Emily coming onto him. It would be awful to turn him down now—and besides, it was just a dance.

“Sure,” I said.

Jo clapped her hands. Emily’s brows were lifted, and she didn’t look our way as I pushed up from my chair to join him.

It felt like every eye was on us as we made our way to the open gathering in front of the stage. The music was louder here, which only made sense.

Kyler strummed his guitar, looking like a tormented teen heartbreaker with dark hair and come-and-get-it eyes. He stepped up to the mic to sing in harmony with the lead guitarist. He had a nice voice as well, serene and smooth.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” Colton told me.

Facing him like this was so much different than working with him had been. We’d been in grubby clothes, in the muggy heat of the townhouse. And while he had a pull that called to something inside of me every time we were together, it was nothing to the charge zipping up my spine as I stood before him.

Waiting. Anticipating.

We were both dressed far nicer than we’d been during any of our other interactions—not counting Belle’s wedding where he’d been in a tux. His face was freshly shaven, and he wore a blue button-up shirt and those jeans he talked about. And the way he looked at me dislodged my brain from the rest of my body.

The evening’s cool hint in the air didn’t last long. Because Colton’s hands slipped to my waist. I lit up like a firework as I placed my hands around his neck and allowed myself to look into his eyes.

They were soft. Kind. And they made my insides evaporate.

“You were right,” I said, needing to talk, to break the tension between us. “This is a good song.”

“I think it might be an original,” Colton said.

“Kyler writes his own music?”

Colton glanced toward the stage. “I never knew Hoss had it in him.”

Kyler stood at the mic and sang into it, and then he stepped back as the lead guitarist took the stage for a solo. Colton took my hand, twirled me away from him, and brought me back again.

Every touch—his hand on my back, my waist, my spine—surged right into me with a fresh charge and made it hard for me to stay where I was. The analogy of climbing a man like a tree had always been weird to me, but I had all kinds of insane notions in this moment.

Like moving closer. Like sliding my hand into his hairline and guiding his face to mine.

There I went thinking about kissing him again.

Stop it!

“How are things going at the site?” Colton asked .

“You’re asking me about work?”

He lowered his head. “Is there something else you’d rather talk about?”

I linked my fingers behind his neck. “How about—your farms?”

“You want to talk about my farms?”

The truth was, I didn’t know anything else about him. Maybe that was why he’d started with talking about the site—he didn’t know what to talk about with me, either.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” I said.

“What is?”

“We don’t know what to talk about. Maybe we shouldn’t be talking.” My attempts to keep some distance between us sounded feeble even to me. The goblin in my chest was stomping as an invader took a swing at the bricks he’d carefully laid earlier.

“Is there something else you’d rather do besides talk?” Colton’s eyes flicked to my lips, and he grinned.

Heaven help me if my heart didn’t flare like fire out of an exhaust pipe.

I lifted my chin. “You start mouthing off, and I’ll go back to my seat.”

He laughed. “All right, all right. But I think I’ve got a solution for you.”

“What’s that?”

His hands settled on my hips. “Maybe we just need to talk more. Get to know each other.”

I was an empty drum, and his glance was the mallet pounding hard and making my whole body hum.

More bricks toppled. I pulled my hands away. “Or maybe we talk just enough.”

He raised a single brow. “You don’t like me, do you?”

This was another conversation I wasn’t ready for, though I couldn’t explain why. I stepped away from him, turning my attention to the stage and clapping for the band as their song ended .

“It’s not that. I’m just…I’m not ready for anything right now.”

There. Would that be enough of an explanation?

The pain I’d expected to find earlier when I’d rejected him flashed in his eyes. I hated being the reason for that look. I hated that I couldn’t give my heart to him like he—and my heart, judging by how hard it pounded right now—both wanted.

Colton rubbed his chin. There was a moment of silence as the band members talked amongst themselves to decide which song to play next.

Taking my hand, he guided me through the crowd of people waiting for the next song to start. I couldn’t bring myself to wrench my hand free. I liked his touch.

Even so, when we made it to the space between the dancers and the food tables, I extracted myself once more.

“Thanks for the dance,” I said, wishing I didn’t have to leave things on a completely terrible note. I didn’t know how to fix this.

I didn’t know what to do because I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Thank you, Miss Natalie. And I just wanted to say something.”

My breath lodged in my throat.

He licked his lips, a line appearing between his brows. Several people passed, and he nodded to them, waiting for them to pass before he leaned in close.

“I know my brother hurt you, but breaking hearts isn’t on my track record,” he said.

The words struck me. They hit me right to my soul.

I gaped at him, taken completely aback. Before I could respond, he tipped his hat toward me.

“You have a nice evening. Thank you for the dance.”

And then he strode toward the food tables.

What the what? Our whole interaction chewed through me as I made my way back to the girls. I moved robotically, dazedly, distractedly. I couldn’t fully concentrate. I couldn’t move past the hurt look in his eyes.

A shrill, screeching noise came from the stage. Dancers paused, covering their ears, and it was only then that I realized Jo, Emily, and Oakley were trying to talk to me.

“Earth to Natalie,” Jo said at the same time Emily vocally wondered what was going on with the band.

“Maybe they’re having a glitch,” Oakley said. “My brother plays guitar and sometimes, the cords can short out?—”

But I didn’t hear the rest of what cords sometimes did. I didn’t hear any of the whispers spreading as people wondered what was going on. I didn’t even really hear one of the band members call out to the crowd about hoping to have things fixed real soon.

No, my attention was on Colton Holden. Though he’d walked away after our dance, he’d dashed back and hiked onto the stage without any trouble. His agility, the look of him in his cowboy boots, jeans, and hat coincided with his parting words.

Breaking hearts isn’t on my track record.

Did that mean he’d never broken anyone’s heart before? Had he dated anyone seriously before? I’d be surprised if he hadn’t. He was in his late twenties, I’d guess.

Because he was male, I’d lumped him into the same stereotype as men like his older brother or Jensen, but really, he’d given me no reason to think he was a bad boy or untrustworthy in any way. In fact, I started seeing him differently from that moment on.

Was I wrong about him?

I was riveted by every move he made. The band members gathered around him, and he spoke to them with his hands on his hips. Moments later, he crossed to the other side of the stage, bent behind the amp, and whatever he did, tweaked it, working to fix it.

Muttering spread over the crowd, but I heard Colton call out, “Try it now.”

Seconds later, the speaker kicked back in. Hoss lifted his fist, and the crowd responded, cheering.

And my foolish heart took off once more as—of all the people he could look at from his vantage point on the stage right now—his gaze meandered over the crowd and settled on me.

That look. It struck me all over again just like his words had earlier.

Guitar in hand, Kyler approached his mic.

“Thanks to my brother, Colton has mad skills with anything electrical,” he said. “He’s a freaking jack of all trades. If there’s anything that needs to be fixed, Colt will figure it out.”

People cheered, and then the guitar strains began again, and Hoss spoke into the mic once more. “Let’s get the party back on!”

Emily, Jo, and Oakley coerced me back to the dance floor. I boogied with the best of them, but I couldn’t get into the dance. Not completely.

Because I noticed Colton didn’t stay. After fixing the band’s equipment, he’d made for the parking lot, and left me wondering if I had him all wrong.