“How do you know about what we do on the ranch?”
“I Googled it. Because I am interested in helping you. And me. It’s all...symbiotic helpfulness. And what’s wrong with that?”
He felt like he was losing control. Like she had come along, grabbed his control and was running around holding it over her head, laughing maniacally as he tried to reclaim it.
“What’s wrong with that is you’re proposing to turn this place—my place—into a fun fair. We live here. We work here. This isn’t a carnival.”
“I never said it was! But what’s wrong with a few special events? It’s not like I have to take over the barns. I mean, I would, but I can keep it contained.”
“Have you run any of this past Connor?”
She shrugged. “Not...specifically, but he did agree to let me bring a certain amount of the public onto the property when I initially sent over my business plan, so I didn’t see why this would be a problem.”
“You didn’t see why it would be a problem?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t.” She took a drink of her beer. “I’m running a business, and it benefits Connor, benefits Kate and you. I have a five-year lease agreement, and it seems to me that we should all be into ideas that will make things more successful. Right?”
“Not ideas that include my ranch crawling with a bunch of random people. I don’t like that kind of disorder.”
“You are the singularly most frustrating, uptight, obtuse... No one makes me mad, Eli. No one. I am not an angry person. I like to smile. And every time I’m around you, no matter how cheerful I determine to be, I end up irritated.”
“That’s funny, Sadie, because I feel like I end up irritated every time I’m around you.”
“I just think your irritation is contagious,” she said.
“Maybe you’re so irritating you irritate yourself.”
“Oh! Bah! What are you, twelve?”
“I thought you were the one acting like an adolescent boy, not me.”
“No, I am the one acting like I have a sense of humor. Because I do. And you,” she said, drawing her beer against her chest, “are ridiculous. And humorless.”
“If you think that barb is going to wound me, you obviously don’t know me very well.”
“I don’t know you very well. And I’m content with that. I think I will spend the next five years not knowing you very well.” She grabbed her shoes from the stool and plopped onto it, bending over and fidgeting while she put them on her feet. She straightened, a clump of wet hair falling out of her bun. “I’m going to go now. And I’m taking the beer. And the water. Thank you. Again. I’ll try not to bother you anymore.”
He snorted. “Good luck.”
“Oh, I don’t need it. I don’t mind bothering you. You are clearly the one who is bothered by being bothered. So...you’re the one who needs the luck, not me.”
She stood up, collected her bag and managed to grab the water jugs as well, then turned on her heel and stormed out toward the entryway, out the front door, slamming it shut with her foot and rattling the windows.
She had no right to be angry. He was the one who had every righteous reason to be pissed. She was a tenant, not a part owner. She had no right to be making decisions that affected his life and his business.
Tomorrow, he was going to talk to Connor about her. And very definitive boundaries. After he was done with work anyway. He groaned and shoved his beer back. It was officially getting too late for him to stay up and drink. Sadie Miller had ruined his entire evening, and now he was going to have to go shower in a shower still wet with water that had been on her body. And then he was going to have to sleep with visions of sweater bunnies and strangers doing the hoedown on his porch dancing in his head.
Which meant he was better served getting on the computer and working on campaign plans. At least planning would help make him feel like he had some control.
Yes, tomorrow, he would talk to Connor about what needed to be done.
And tonight? Tonight he would just have to deal with his annoyance. At least annoyance was better than sexual frustration.
* * *
Eli took a sip of his coffee and walked out of Copper Ridge’s coffee shop, The Grind, and onto the main street. Connor gave him endless grief about the fact that he cut his coffee with steamed milk. And that he ordered lattes. But he wasn’t a fan of the black sludge his brother poured down his throat all day.
Eli needed caffeine, and he would get it in the way he found most palatable, even if his older brother called it Bitch Coffee.
Besides, he needed his coffee extra bad today because of his encounter with Sadie last night.
He’d been so annoyed that he’d barely been able to sleep, thanks to the images of his property being overrun with civilians. And he knew that it shouldn’t bother him. But he also knew that if it really did happen, he would be putting caution tape all around his portion of the property and shouting, “Get off my lawn!” to anyone who got too close.
Old habits died hard, and things like that.
Anyway, that kind of behavior wouldn’t be good for his campaign. And he had to think about that kind of thing now.
He let out a breath and headed toward the crosswalk. He waited for the signal to change, then started to cross, heading back toward his patrol car. A breeze came in off the waves. Salt, brine and moisture filled his lungs.
He needed to get his head on straight and stop worrying about Sadie. Though if there was a magic way for him to just stop worrying he would have found it a long time ago. But it seemed like the day his mother had walked out the door, she’d taken his stability and shoved a knot of anxiety straight into his chest that he’d never been able to get rid of.
He put his uniform on every morning and took it off at night, and the worry didn’t go on and off with it. It was in him. Part of him. He’d more or less accepted it. And accepted that the only way to really deal with it was to make sure things were taken care of.
“Deputy Garrett!”
He looked to his left and saw Lydia Carpenter signaling him. He really didn’t have time to field any issues from the Chamber of Commerce today. Lydia always had something to talk to him about. From obtaining proper licensing for an event, to dealing with complaints from home owners about “noise pollution” during one of her carefully planned summer concerts.
Everything in him screamed, Not my problem, but on the outside he just smiled and nodded. Because, most especially, when someone was hoping to gain the good favor of the voting public, one had to be pleasant.
