A Cowboy To Come Home To. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
a nice, if small, home. She had good friends and a lot to be thankful for.
She looked up at the unfinished structure before her. Things could definitely be worse. Take, for instance, Stu Dickinson and his family. They were going to own this house when it was finished. The Dickinsons had been living in a cheap duplex rental in town when it had burned and they’d lost everything. With his wife suffering from multiple sclerosis and unable to work, Stu was the sole breadwinner for them and their two kids. Tenant’s insurance had made it possible for them to replace necessities, but they were struggling to make ends meet.
Which was where a local charity organization came in.
Melissa wasn’t that great with power tools, but she’d signed up to volunteer now that the house was framed. She had no idea what she’d be doing today, but the coordinator had assured her that she’d be fine and that someone would show her exactly what to do.
When she stepped inside the house, the racket was unbelievable. The shrill whine of a saw rang in her ears, followed by a bang and the sound of male voices.
“Hello?” she called out in a brief moment of silence, putting her purse by the door. The room on her left had been finished with Sheetrock and had had its cracks filled, but not painted. The one on the right was still only framed and the wiring was visible, including electrical outlets and dangling wires for an overhead light fixture.
Boots sounded at the back of the house and she wiped her hands on her jeans. “Hello?” a voice returned.
A strange feeling slithered through her stomach in the instant before the man appeared.
“You!” she exclaimed. Oh, wasn’t this just her luck! Twice in one week, no less.
Cooper halted in the doorway to the hall. “Oh,” he answered, his face going completely blank for the space of a second. “You’re volunteering today?”
She nodded. He sounded as pleased about it as she was. “And I take it you are, too?”
He nodded in turn.
She couldn’t back out now. For one, she’d committed to volunteering. And two, if she did withdraw, Cooper would know it was all because of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
At some point it might be good if they could be in the same room together without her wanting to spit in his eye.
He took off his gloves. “Stu works for me. Least I can do is help out, you know?”
Melissa blinked. “I would have thought things were too busy out at your place.” Cooper’s ranch was profitable and his reputation for breeding great stock horses was growing. Ranchers from all over the prairies and northern states came to the Double C for their cutting and working horses.
“Sure it’s busy. But I don’t run it alone. I have good men working for me. They know what they’re doing and I trust them. You know what it’s like. You must have someone working the shop this morning.”
She did. Against her better judgment she’d hired Amy Wilson on a part-time basis. Amy’s reputation around town wasn’t always the greatest, but Melissa had taken a chance and given the vivacious blonde a try. So far she’d worked out well. She was a fast learner and was good with the customers. The only thing she couldn’t do was arrange flowers, so Melissa had gone in early to do up the day’s orders and make sure the cooler was filled with prearranged bouquets for walk-in sales.
“So, is there someone here to tell me what I need to do?”
Cooper grinned. “Yep. Me, for now. The bedrooms are all painted, and we’ve just finished laying the floor in the master. How are you with a brad nailer? We’ve got the baseboard and crown molding ready to go.”
Melissa hesitated. Couldn’t he install the trim while she worked with someone else? The last thing she wanted was to spend the next four hours in the same room with Coop.
“Melissa.”
His rough voice pulled her back. “What?”
“Is it so bad? Really?”
She met his gaze. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t making fun or trying to be charming—for once. He was dead serious. He shifted his gloves from one hand to the other—was he nervous? He hadn’t aged, other than a few lines in the corners of his eyes that were more likely from the sun and wind than time passing. He still looked so much like the boy she’d laughed with over the years. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud in a thousand years, she missed that guy. Once upon a time she’d called him her best friend.
“You remind me,” she said coolly. “You remind me, okay? Of how stupid and naive I once was.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He took a step forward. “But I can’t change it. We’re grown-ups. Surely we can manage to work together for a few hours without killing each other.”
He was right. “Yeah, well, this place isn’t about you or me, so we just have to suck it up, right? Besides, I don’t know much about construction, so it appears I get to swallow my pride and let you boss me around.”
He smiled then, a crooked upturn of his lips that reached his eyes. “Like I could ever tell you what to do.”
The air hummed between them for a few minutes. Briefly, Melissa missed the way things used to be, the easy rapport they had shared. Cooper had been a tease, though she’d always known that his flirting meant nothing. It had been safe to banter back and forth because he was Scott’s best friend as well as hers. He’d given the toast at their wedding, for Pete’s sake.
She ignored his last statement and checked her watch. “Shouldn’t we get started? I only have until one o’clock, when I have to be back at the shop.”
He led the way to the master bedroom, pausing briefly to introduce her to the other people working there, installing oak hardwood in the other bedrooms. To her surprise she saw Callum Shepard, a local dairy farmer and newcomer to town, and Rhys Bullock, Martha Bullock’s son and one of the hands over at Diamondback Ranch. The big surprise was that they were being bossed around by Chelsea Smith, whose father owned the hardware store.
After the hellos, Melissa followed Cooper to the back bedroom, pausing in the doorway to admire what had already been done. the walls were the shade of her favorite vanilla latte, and the rich color of the hardwood looked lovely against it. There were windows in two walls, providing a view of the distant Rockies in one direction and a view of the creek valley that ran to the north in the other.
“This is nice,” she said, stepping in and hearing her boots echo on the wood floor.
“Stu deserves it. They were already struggling to make ends meet, and then to lose all their belongings…Sometimes life just isn’t fair. I’m glad they were able to get this going and I’m happy to help. He’s a good man and a good worker. He deserved a break.”
It was easier to dismiss Coop when he was being deliberately charming. When he was sincere it was hard to remember why she resented him so much.
Lengths of baseboard were stretched across the floor, and a saw was set up on a heavy drop cloth. A loud drone filled the room as the air compressor fired up.
Cooper saw to filling the air nailer and then reached for his measuring tape. “Hold this here,” he commanded, leaving her with one end. Together they measured the wall, then measured the baseboard—twice—and Cooper marked it with a carpenter’s pencil.
She held the end while he made the first cut, then angled the other side with the miter saw so the next piece would match up in the corner.
Together they moved the piece to the wall, putting it flush against the end cap of the woodwork in the doorway. “Okay, now you’re on. I’ll hold it in place and you nail it.”
“Me?”
“Sure, you. Take the nailer and press it against that hollow part there.” He pointed to the curve in the baseboard design. “Is it pressed all