Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(13)

“But you did believe it, Miss Up-at-the-Buttcrack-of-Dawn-Every-Morning. I thought you knew me better than that.”


“I do. You’ve blabbed all your secrets to me, remember? Since you’re constantly underfoot pestering me.”


“No, I’ve withheld a few secrets. It adds to my manly mystique.”


Rielle laughed. “As Sierra would say…you’re a dork.”


“You laughing at my jokes proves you’re equally dorky.” He reached over and brushed his fingers beneath her jawline. Her skin was so soft right there.


Rielle’s pale green eyes were enormous as his fingers moved across her jaw. “What are you doing?”


“Umm…you had flour left from this morning’s bake-a-thon,” he lied to cover up his strange compulsion to touch her.


“Thank you.”


“My pleasure.” He tried really hard not to stare at her ass as she retreated and busied herself refilling their mugs with the last dregs of coffee.


“What are you really doing today?”


“Chet and Remy West are coming by this morning to show me the tentative plans for the four-car garage they’re building.”


“Ha ha. You almost got me twice today.”


“I’m not kidding.”


A moment passed and then she demanded, “When did you decide that?”


“Last week. They’ve promised to get it done before the snow flies.”


“Where on earth are you going to put a four-car garage?”


Gavin sipped his coffee, hating that their easy banter was about to end. “On the right side of the drive. The structure will be attached to the house and be accessible—”


“Through the mudroom in the basement.” Rielle looked as if she wanted to say something else but she didn’t.


“As long as they’ll already be doing dirt work, we’re revamping the front. Since this isn’t a B&B, there’s no need for a full-sized parking lot. Adding a garage will fill the space and close it off, giving it a more residential feel, as well as adding symmetry.”


“So the barn?”


“What about it?”


“Just wondering if you were making changes to it too.”


Not just prickly, but pissy. Not that he was surprised. “The barn is new, and from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, largely unused.”


“You sure aren’t letting grass grow under your feet when it comes to making changes, are you?” She slapped her hands on the counter. “Speaking of grass…please tell me you don’t intend to lay sod across the entire length of the former parking lot? That’d be a serious waste of natural resources. Water is as scarce here as it is in the desert. No one has groomed lawns in the country, Gavin, not to mention the deer and turkeys will rip it up—”


He placed his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t go off half-cocked on environmental self-righteousness, hippie chick.”


“Hippie chick?” she mumbled beneath his fingers.


“I figured you’d prefer that to granola head or tree hugger.”


Rielle’s eyes darkened.


He grinned. “Ree. I was trying for levity to make this easier on both of us. Yes, I’m making changes, but not without help. I intended to ask if you had time to talk to a landscaper. You know everything about this chunk of land and I don’t. I prefer the natural look. Maintaining a manicured lawn is the last thing I’d ever do.”


She turned her head, dislodging his fingers. “I’m glad to hear you aren’t completely an urban idiot with visions of becoming a hobby farmer, calling your riding lawnmower a tractor.”


He murmured, “Touché.”


“If you’re serious about hiring a landscaper, I know a local guy in Spearfish who is excellent and specializes in xeriscaping.”


“I’d appreciate it. I’ll tell the West brothers we have that part handled.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”


“Doesn’t change the fact that now I wish you had been telling the truth about being locked away inside playing video games.”


Gavin had no response for that as she walked away.


Dirt therapy worked better than scream therapy. Good thing because she wanted to scream her fool head off at Gavin.


The man drove her insane. Always so even-keeled. Matter of fact. Not to mention he was thoughtful, surprisingly funny and so unconsciously sweet that she just wanted to hug him.


And that annoyed the piss out of her.


The earth made a loud ching as the shovel blade connected with the crust. She put muscle into it, turning the soil over until dark chunks appeared. Rielle dropped to her knees and brushed the dirt from the clumps of blue fingerling potatoes. These were in high demand in recent years, so she’d filled one entire bed with just this variety. Restaurants in Casper, Cheyenne and Jackson Hole had already placed orders. The entire crop was sold before she’d harvested. That was a good feeling.


She stood and wiped her brow with the back of her glove. It was unseasonably warm for September—not that she was complaining. The longer the sun kept shining, the better the chances were the last crop of heirloom tomatoes could ripen on the vine.