Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

it works. You gotta get up early to be ready to work.”

“That seems obscene.”

“I grant you, I like an earlier morning than most.”

“Go away. Morning people are suspicious.”

“I made coffee.”

She made a rumbling sound again.

“I’m going to go into the kitchen and pour you a cup. Don’t make me come back in here and wake you up.”

He turned around and walked down the hall. He did not need to see her get out of bed. He did not need to answer any of the questions he had about what she was or wasn’t wearing under that T-shirt.

He didn’t like the whole thing. This whole sudden, errant attraction to Cricket. It could definitely be argued that it would be a fine enough thing in theory. Because it wasn’t like they weren’t both adult people, even if he was a bit older. But he couldn’t give her anything. And that… That didn’t seem fair. She was young and scrappy and trying to make it on her own, and the last thing he wanted to do was…

Well, none of it bore thinking about because he was a grown man. And thinking a woman was pretty didn’t mean acting on anything.

He wouldn’t do it. Most especially because he was here to talk her out of her ranch. He had his limits.

He got a small, chipped mug out of the cupboard and poured some coffee in it. Just in time for Cricket to appear, in what he thought might be the same T-shirt, her blond hair resting on top of her head in a messy knot, jeans and a pair of boots.

“Good morning,” she groused.

“You said you wanted to be a cowgirl.”

He handed the coffee mug over to her.

“I was unaware that being my own boss would involve being woken up at a specific time. Hey. I’m your boss. You’re not my boss.”

“Yes. But the land waits for no one, Cricket. That’s your first lesson in being a real, bona fide rancher.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Why do you love the idea of being a rancher?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“You have to do better than that.”

“I feel… I don’t know. I feel weird and wrong most of the time. I feel like I don’t fit. But outdoors, I always felt like maybe I belonged. You know, I was better at riding horses, at dealing with bugs and dirt and all of that kind of stuff than my sisters. It was something I was just naturally more comfortable with. And maybe that’s not right or fair. Maybe that’s a little bit smug. To like something simply because I was better at it, when I couldn’t be better at school, or being pretty.”

“Better at being pretty?”

“Oh, come on. Wren and Emerson are naturally elegant and completely and totally perfect in every way.”

“They’re perfect when it comes to their particular kind of pretty, I’ll give them that. And I’m not going to say people don’t tend to have their favorite kind of flower. But all flowers are pretty.”

“Surely not all of them.”

“You’re messing with my metaphor.”

“It’s too early for metaphors.”

“It’s never too early. Drink your coffee.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to be nice to her. It was just that she seemed…utterly lost. He related to the feeling. He supposed that in some ways, losing whatever connection with her father that she’d had—though she claimed that it wasn’t a very deep one—was a lot like a death.

And he knew what it was like to lose a parent. It was hard. It had left him feeling… Honestly, he hadn’t known what to do after his mother had died. He hadn’t been ready for it. No one was ever ready. But he had felt deeply and profoundly unprepared for the way the grief had rocked his life. For all the things he’d left unsolved and unsaid. For all the regret he felt on her behalf.

He knew she’d felt stuck in a loveless marriage. Even though she’d loved their family. Loved the kids.

Sometimes he felt…responsible for her unhappiness.

His dad was mired in grief, as if she’d been the love of his life, but sometimes Jackson thought the real reason his dad was mired in grief was that he’d known they weren’t the loves of each other’s lives and they’d trapped each other.

Sometimes, as a family they’d been so happy…

It didn’t matter. All he knew was there was something in Cricket that he recognized. Didn’t matter that she was a completely different creature than him. He knew what she was feeling.

And he might resent the position he found himself in, but honor prevented him from backing out. Anyway, now that he was here, he wanted to help her.

She sat at the table, her shoulders hunched up by her ears, and sipped her coffee a bit too slowly for his taste. He liked a leisurely morning, but you needed to get yourself out of bed a bit earlier if you were going to be that sluggish with it. Granted, they didn’t actually have specific chores. But this was her lesson. Her lesson in ranching. And if she really thought she was going to do it… Well, then she had better get used to this.

He didn’t think she would, though.

In fact, he had a feeling he was a step closer to being able to make his move than he’d thought he’d be at this point.

“Come on, little Cricket,” he said as soon as she had drained the last drop of her coffee.

“I’m not little,” she said.

“You are to me.”

“I’m quite tall,” she sniffed.

He looked down at the top of her head. “Again. Not to me.”

“Well, you’re ridiculous. Height runs in your family,” she commented.

“Honey is short.”

“But you and Creed are very tall.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

She seemed suddenly renewed, and he opened the front door and held it for her, and she went past him, going straight down the steps. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, why don’t we start by looking at your pastures and your fencing. Then we’re going to take a