Page 5 of The Rancher’s Bride
“I’m not your mother.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“No. You just assumed I’d start rearranging your furniture because we’re both women.”
I’ve got a comeback, but saying it would only dig the hole deeper. I head upstairs instead and show her to her room.
“The bathroom’s across the hall,” I tell her. “Hot water takes a minute. Don’t crank the knob all the way left or it’ll stick.”
She steps into the bedroom and looks around. The room is plain, but it’s clean. I put fresh sheets on the mattress yesterday and found towels that didn’t look like they’d been through ten years of ranch work. Even cleared junk off the dresser.
She touches the edge of the dresser, then looks out the window. That’s it. No comment. No smile. Nothing.
“Well?” I ask.
She turns toward me. “What?”
“You going to say anything?”
“About the room?”
“About any of it.”
Her expression goes careful. “It’s nice.”
Nice.
The word people use when they don’t have anything good to say.
“Don’t sound too excited.”
She draws a breath through her nose. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything.”
“You just asked me to.”
“I asked what you thought.”
“And I told you.”
“Yeah. Nice.”
Her eyes cool. “Would you prefer I lie and say it’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen?”
“I’d prefer you quit acting like you’re inspecting the place for faults.”
“I’m looking around because I just arrived here.”
“Quietly judging everything.”
“I haven’t judged anything.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
She stares at me. “You told me not to move your chair, Damian.”
“So?”
