Page 57 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“Hey, look,” I said. “Fried chicken. Biscuits and butter. Oh, honey butter, too. Macaroni salad.” I pointed. “And blueberry pie. Shall I get two slices for you?”

“Yes, please.” He looked at me with hooded eyes. Sleepy eyes, with a warmth behind the cut-glass colors that I could get used to. He rubbed his jaw, dark with beard growth, and bumped into me a little, as if to let me know he was right there. As if I could ever forget.

I ate quickly, then leaned on my elbow, watching him slowly devour everything on his tray, followed by the two slicesof blueberry pie, licking his lips. That little half-smile of his showing up at long last.

“I got to get back to work,” he said sadly, as though he was apologizing for it. “But I’ll come by and get you later?”

“No.” Before he could react, I added, “You have the rest of the day off. Jesse’s orders. We’ll start by going back to your bunkhouse so you can get some shut-eye. Don’t.” I shook my finger at him. “Do not argue with me. It’s settled. You need sleep, and you’re going to get it.”

“Oh.”

That was the response I got: a little sound of shock that turned into a question that slid into gratitude. We bused our places, and then I pointed him to bunkhouse six.

Inside, I sat him on the bed so I could pull off his boots. His socks were gray and damp, and disgusting. He needed new ones.

I made a mental note and finished undressing him, putting his filthy clothes in a pile on the floor. Then I stripped myself, and together we tumbled into the bed.

I pulled the sheet over us and snuggled into the curve of his body, my head on his shoulder. I wrapped his arm around me and took a deep breath.

The whole while he didn’t say a word. Just did as my hands directed him.

“Ten minutes,” he said. “Just that.”

“No,” I breathed against his neck. “An hour. Maybe two.”

This was not a man who could be made still, at least not easily. His life was movement. Work. Dirt on his hands. Those were good things, of course they were, but he was working himself to the bone. Someone had to stop him, at least for a little while. That someone was me.

“Relax,” I said. “I’ll keep watch while you sleep.”

Even if there was nothing to watch out for, no danger approaching, it was the right thing to say, for he finally let hiseyes slide shut. For a brief time, I’d be taking care of him instead of the other way around. It made a nice balance and settled warmth inside my chest.

I dozed on and off, but it was only an hour before he was awake again, blinking at the ceiling of the bunkhouse. I was starfished over his body, my arm across his bare chest, legs tangled with his.

“Better?” I asked.

He looked at me as though nobody had ever asked him that question before. He trailed his fingers along my arm, cupping my elbow, bringing it up so he could kiss the palm of my hand, a gesture we’d made, back and forth, between us, like a silent vow. Though what that vow was, I didn’t rightly know. Maybe if I paid close attention, I’d find out.

“I know you’re worried about the mountain lion,” I said. “But think of it. They’re probably taking him to the wilds of Utah as we speak.”

“Not that quick,” he said. “Tomorrow, probably. Mountain lions are awake at dawn and dusk. It’ll be dusk soon. They’ll probably pick him up midmorning tomorrow.”

The things I was learning from him amazed me.

I was just going to suggest that we could call the park rangers to find out when my phone rang. Thinking it was Lucas checking up on me or Jesse wanting Jake for something, I answered it.

That was a mistake, and I realized it the second I heard the voice at the other end. It was Cadmar, and he was already talking before I’d said hello.

“What’s the problem?” I squinted and covered my other ear so I could focus. To figure out what he wanted this time. “Say again?”

“Like I said, if you’d been paying attention,” Cadmar said, his voice nasal and annoying, “the tax papers arrived for the Scottsbluff property, and you need to deal with them.”

“Are you back from Hawaii?” I’d not paid attention to their schedule, so I really had no idea.

“Yes, and if you’d been here house-sitting, the papers would already be in your hands.”

He was only irritated because he’d had to pay a house sitter, instead of getting me for free, but he wouldn’t want to hear that. “How do you know I need to deal with something?” I asked. “Did you open the envelope?”

“Of course I opened it. It was addressed to you, but it came to my house, so?—”