Page 97 of Cautious Love

“Take a seat while I get things going,” he says.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” I ask him and take a sip.

He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m fine.”

I sigh and watch him work, dropping potatoes into a pot and turning them on to boil. He seasons the steaks and sets them to the side, then starts cutting up vegetables for the salad.

“Have you always wanted to be a sheriff?” I ask him. It hit me the other day that we know each other simply because we’ve grown up in the same town. But the longer I’ve lived with him, the more he does for me, for his family, for this town. I realize I don’t know Ledger as well as I assumed. There is much more that meets the eye to the rule-following cowboy.

He stops chopping and looks up at me. “That’s a random question.”

I shrug and take a drink. “I’m full of surprises.”

He huffs and starts chopping carrots. “You’re right about that.”

“And?” I push him.

“I don’t know. I guess I knew one day I’d have to take over more of the ranch and help Fletcher. He’s running it for the most part. But on top of being a cowboy, I wanted to do something else for a bit. I talked to deputies after we graduated high school, and that’s what sold me on it. So I did my schooling, worked my way up, and here we are.”

He’s always the man with a plan.

“What about you? Did you want to do the college thing?” he asks.

I look up from my glass and meet his gaze. He’s not chopping because he’s giving me his full attention, waiting for an answer. I don’t know why I expected judgement from him, but there’s not a hint of it on his handsome face.

“When we graduated, I was having so much fun I didn’t want to be stuck in a classroom again. Plus, my grades weren’t great so I don’t think I would have gotten in, and then the whole cost of school would’ve made it nearly impossible. I don’t like the thought of being in debt.”

Ledger nods and goes back to chopping.

“There was a day when I had a dream to start a distillery. I started working with super small batches and experimenting, but it’s expensive to experiment with, and I didn’t have the cash.”

“Why a distillery?”

I shrug and spin my bottle around. “I found it interesting. I like whiskey, bourbon, and scotch. So I wondered what it would be like to do my own thing with it.”

“Have you made any?”

My stomach twists, and I blink away the tears making a surprise appearance. I don’t know why I still feel this way because it was so long ago, but I do, and I kind of hate myself a little for it.

The knife clangs on the cutting board, and Ledger comes around the island, tipping my chin up with his finger and thumb. “What’s this about?” he asks with a frown.

I lift my hand and smooth out the furrow in his brow.

“I did,” I sigh, closing my eyes.

“What do you mean you did?” His hand drops, and he slips it to the back of my neck.

I lean into the touch, opening my eyes.

“Grey … got mad about something. I don’t even remember what it was about. It wasn’t something I did. It was probably something with his family. But, uh, I had saved up for months to buy this kit to get started. I researched the heck out of it, sourced my corn and grain because I had an idea for a specific mash. I made it, put it in my charred white oak barrel, and stored it up in the attic, you know, for temperature changes and stuff. I had brought it down to turn it because you’re supposed to do that, and I …” I trail off because he doesn’t need this whole story.

“Go on,” he encourages.

“I brought it down to take a small sample, and I left it on the counter, and like I said, he got mad and threw it, and some of the staves cracked, and then the cork popped out and it all spilled out. He apologized for it. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, but yeah …”

Ledger stares at me, and I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.

“What’s that face for?” I ask him.