The Bequest
Chapter 29—Abigail

"Morning," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah, good morning," I say. "I didn't expect you to be awake."

He frowns. "How did you know I was sleeping?"

I could hear his white noise machine playing ocean sounds, but I'm not about to say that. It's not polite to draw attention to how small someone's house is. I've been careful not to talk on the phone while he's asleep. When I absolutely had to do a zoom call or talk via phone, I'd walk a dozen paces away and rest my computer on his birdbath. It's not exactly ideal, but it's the farthest I could get from the house and still have a decent signal. I figure, if I can hear his white noise machine, he could hear me talking. "Just a guess."

He grunts.

"I'm sorry, I know it's the weekend. I can find someplace else. Kevin said he thinks maybe the "

He stands up. "It's fine. I can have my coffee out in the barn. It's just that I have this one cat, Bungo, who loves coffee and he won't leave me alone."

Plus, it's so nice here in the morning. "I'm certainly not going to kick someone off their own porch swing. I can download the contracts and then drive back later to upload the revised versions. It won't take more than five minutes each time." Crisis averted.

Steve shakes his head. "Please. If you think it won't bother you for me to be here, get your work done. We can share the bench. Might be nice to have another human on the property for a bit."

I've seen someone here, lending a hand with the horses, but I suppose that's not quite the same as company.

Not that I'm going to be any better. I'm probably worse, since I know he wants to get rid of me. I still get a little irritated when I think about the fact that two of the three people Uncle Jed appointed to determine whether we've complied with the conditions want us gone. If we did want to stay, it feels like we wouldn't have much of a chance.

Awkward or not, I have to get these done, so I force myself to sit down on the far left of the swing. "Thanks."

The contracts download quickly, and luckily they're much cleaner than I feared they'd be. It takes me a few minutes to work out the issues with the first, and the second is a mirror of it. I whip up an analysis and attach the analysis and the redline to Mr. Newton and copy Robert. Once the email goes through, I lean back and release a sigh of relief.

"Done?"

"I'll get out of your hair. Thanks so much for letting me come work here. Not just today-this whole week. You've been a lifesaver."

He shrugs. "It hasn't bothered me at all. It's not like I pay for usage on the internet."

"Well, it's never nice to have someone invading your space, but you've been pretty decent about it." I'm not sure whether I'm talking about the internet or our presence in the area. Either way, I suppose my statement's true. "It's not that I don't want you here," he says. "I think when we spoke before, I didn't explain very well."

I slide my laptop into my bag. "I probably overreacted. We don't have an interest in staying anyway, so there's no conflict."

"But I've had a week to watch you with three of your children."

"What do you think about Whitney?"

He bobs his head. "She's coming along faster than I thought. Her handling has improved, but let's see how she does on your horses next week."

"Jed's horses, you mean?"

He shrugs. "I guess that's what I mean."

"I'd think you'd be relieved that we're leaving. Your friend Patrick can buy his precious land the second we're gone."

"Patrick's inheriting his dad's ranch. It's his sister who actually wants to buy it. Patrick just offered to pay you to vacate earlier."

His sister? "Oh. That's...alright." Not that I care who buys it.

"Patrick's a lousy human being in a lot of ways, with his bribes and his manipulation, but his sister Donna's a really good person. She's probably the person I admire most in town."

Inexplicably, a hot flash of jealousy shoots through me. Which is absurd. I don't know Donna, and I don't care if she's Steve Archer's favorite person in the entire world. In the entire universe. I hope they get married and have ten children. "Actually, it might be better for her to buy in a few months anyway."

It's utterly irrational, but for some reason I do not want to hear any more about Donna. "Alright," I say. "Well, I'm always happy to help." I stand up.

Steve Archer does, too. He sets his empty mug on the seat of the swing. "Listen, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I know you're busy, but if you ever want some adult time, I'd be happy to take you to dinner. Manila's finest, or we could take a little drive and head over to Green River. I can show you the feed store, the actual grocery store, and even the middle school."

"Why would I want to see a middle school?"

He smiles. "There isn't one in Manila. Dutch John, Flaming Gorge, and Manila only have two schools between them-both located in Manila. One's an elementary school that runs through sixth grade. The other is a high school that picks up with seventh grade. So Green River's quite the impressive metropolis, as evidenced by the existence of a middle school."

"Sometimes I feel like you can't throw a rock in the Houston area without hitting a school."

"Sounds nice."

I shrug. "Pros and cons to everything, I suppose."

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"How about it?" he asks. "Any interest in a tour led by a local?"

Wait, is he asking me on a date?

"If mornings are better, the Gorge Reel and Grill isn't bad." He smiles. "It may not sound like it, but it has decent French toast and killer waffles."

"Would you be able to wake up that early in the morning?"

He tilts his head. "What does that mean?"

"Never mind." I toss my head back toward my car. "I doubt it's a good idea for us to have dinner together, or any meal, really."

"I'm not handsome enough." He shrugs. "C'est la vie."

"No, it's not about that. You're teaching us horseback lessons, and you're my only source of internet until June 26. Without that, I'll lose my job. So no matter how good-looking you are, it's a bad idea."

His eyebrows shoot up. "How good-looking am I?"

What is wrong with me today? "Look, the point is that, I'm happy to start over." I force a smile. "But I think we should be friendly neighbors, nothing more."

He frowns. "I was asking to show you around as a friendly neighbor. What did you think I was doing?"

"You said you weren't handsome enough, and surely that implies-"

"That you didn't want to be seen with a scruffy old tour guide?" He tilts his head.

"Oh. Well."

He holds out his hand. "But don't worry. No pressure from me. I'm happy just to be friends."

"Friendly neighbors," I reiterate. But I take his hand to shake.

The second our fingers touch, a shiver runs up my arm and pulses through me. His hand is so big, and so strong, and calloused in a way I've never experienced. I'm suddenly very aware that this is a man who uses his entire body in a very precise and calculated way. He controls animals that weigh more than a thousand pounds. He breaks green horses and trains the broken ones.

It's been years since I've really touched any man but my husband, who had very smooth, very refined hands.

They were nothing at all like Steve's. Who is supposed to be a trainer and one of the people involved in determining whether we're complying with will terms. I definitely shouldn't let him take me on a 'friendly neighborhood tour.' It's a terrible idea that will just confuse things.

Me.

It will confuse me.

And I'm still holding his hand, like some kind of halfwit.

I snatch my fingers away, but it does nothing to stop his knowing grin. "Did you say you'll be getting internet on the 26th of June?"

He changes gears fast. "Uh, yeah."

"And we'll be done with the cattle drive by then."

"We?" I ask. "You mean Kevin and Jeff and I and Izzy will be done."

"I bet Whitney can go too, as long as you have someone along who knows what they're doing. If anything did happen and I was there, I could talk her through it. Or I could trade horses with her, if it came to trouble."

I love the idea of him coming, which should set off all kinds of warning bells.

"And on June 27th, you'll no longer need to make use of my porch swing," he says slowly. "Then if I wanted to show you around, you'd be out of excuses."

I wait for the anxiety I felt when Robert mentioned liking me, and all the fear and crippling guilt I've felt whenever any man has brought up the possibility of anything even somewhat related to a date...

But it never comes.

Probably because nothing here this summer is real. It's like make-believe. That might make a friendly neighborhood tour with a random, possibly drunk, horse trainer who makes my skin itch and my heart pump faster, an alright idea. With no expectations for either of us, how bad could it be?

"I would probably be out of excuses," I agree. "I might even say yes-to a neighborhood tour. It would be rude to turn down the guy who has helped us out so much."

He grins. "I'll mark my calendar."