“Let’s start with the house,” he said, walking from the little sitting room into the kitchen. There were spiderwebs in the corner. “Have you cleaned?”
“A little,” she said.
He said nothing, he just kept on looking. At the dust, the peeling paint.
She wrinkled her nose. “Okay. I’m not really used to doing any of my own cleaning. I’m not opposed to it. There’s nothing wrong with being prepared. It’s just... I haven’t really done it, so I don’t really think of everything. And I hate that, because I don’t feel like I’m a spoiled rich girl, but I guess to an extent I am. I feel like I can do all these things, but I never have. It’s all based on... Well, basically nothing. Just my feelings about the fact that I can do this. But that has to mean something. Right?”
Granted, he was here to try and give her advice. Advice that would discourage her from all this. The truth. He was here to give her the truth, but she was suddenly looking at him like he might contain the answers to the mysteries of the universe, and he had no idea why.
He didn’t like it either.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know that it is always a good time to learn to take care of your own damn self. So go get a broom and clear your cobwebs. I’m going to evaluate.” He began to walk the perimeter of the room, making note of places where it felt like there might be water damage. Right by the sink. He wasn’t surprised. It was an old farmhouse, and it was easy to believe it hadn’t been worked on at all, judging by the rest of the place.
He was surprised when Cricket did what he asked, and went into the small pantry, grabbed a broom and began to harass the spiders in the corners.
“Granted,” she said. “I can keep the spiders.”
“I would’ve thought you and spiders were natural enemies.”
“Why?”
“Don’t they eat crickets?”
She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
Her name was just another thing that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the Maxfields. A name with bounce and humor. And he didn’t think anyone in her family had an ounce of either. “Why did they name you Cricket?”
“Why is your sister named Honey?”
“Well, that’s easy. Mom picked it, and my dad agreed because it was so sweet to finally have a girl.”
She frowned. “He sounds nice.”
That was the problem. Cash Cooper was nice. A good father in many ways. It would have been easier if he was an out-and-out asshole. He wasn’t. Jackson resented him plenty sometimes, carried a lot of anger toward him.
But Honey adored him. Creed had been so mired in his own issues he’d never gotten to know their mother as an adult the way Jackson had, and she’d certainly never confided in Creed.
Jackson was the only one who knew.
“He has his moments,” he said. “I mean, he’s a crusty old man.”
“Yeah, well, James Maxfield is a little more than crusty.”
James Maxfield had been unveiled as an unrepentant sexual predator. One who’d gotten a girl pregnant and cast her aside, left her a shell of herself after a mental breakdown. A man who’d blackmailed any number of employees who’d felt harassed by him. A serial cheater, liar and all-around asshole.
Cash might have his flaws, but he wasn’t that.
“Right. Sorry.” Then, he did feel bad, because she looked so lost.
And the way she looked reminded him of how he’d felt when his mother had died. It had been...a hell of a thing to lose her. The entire family had done what they could to stay strong in the aftermath and they had each other. But he remembered that feeling. Cricket was hollow-eyed, and he had to wonder if James’s behavior was as shocking to her as it had been to her sisters. It hadn’t shocked him. The way his father had always carried a grudge against James Maxfield had made Jackson suspect there was a very serious reason for it. Of course, there would be. His father wasn’t the kind of man who disliked somebody just because.
“It’s okay. So, how did your dad get interested in wine? You know, since he was a cowboy first.”
Jackson peeked under the sink, frowning when he saw water. Then he turned on the water so that he could try and figure out the exact source of the leak. “Well, he didn’t like your dad. And I think his aim was more or less to try and prove that he could do exactly what your dad did. But better.”
“That’s a pretty powerful dislike. To do something just to prove you can. I mean, I respect it. That’s exactly the kind of thing I can understand. Needing to prove yourself that much. It makes perfect sense to me.”
“A little bit vindictive, are you, Cricket?”
She shrugged. “I think so. I mean, in seventh grade Billy O’Connor made fun of my buck teeth, and then I got braces, and two years later I made him think I wanted to go to a school dance with him, only so I could turn him down.”
“That’s pretty stone cold.”
“He shouldn’t of made fun of my teeth. Did you have buck teeth?”
He frowned. “No.”
“Did Honey?”
“If so, I don’t recall.”
“Oh. Well, I do. And no one else in my family does. I think that’s kind of weird.”
“Families are different.”
“Of course. I’m not saying they aren’t. I’m just... I dunno. Sometimes I try to see something in common with my sisters, and I just can’t. But I don’t know. That feeling kind of goes away here. Spiders or not.”
“Well, good to know.” He knelt down, had a good look at the pipe. “I have some plumber’s tape in the truck. But I’m going to need to go get a part from town to actually fix this.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Great.” He headed back out toward the truck, and he could practically hear her holding something back. “Yes?”
“It just occurred to me that maybe I should go out to the bunkhouse with you. Show you around.”
“Okay.” He looked at her. “Are you really going to make me sleep in the bunkhouse?”
If he were another kind of man he’d sneak across the field and into his own house. But he was honorable with his dishonor. They’d had a bet.
He was sticking to it.
“Absolutely. It was part of our bet. You’re going to be my ranch hand.”
She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t offer any sort of reasoning behind why she needed him here. He just had a feeling it amused her.