Page 36 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

Asher shifted toward her as if he wanted to defend himself for returning to the life—the good one—he had going in the city.

“It’s not about you making the time.” Herman nudged his elbow into Asher’s side, drawing Asher’s attention away from Kelley. The farmer’s eyebrows hitched upward. “It’s about you being worried you might realize you still like it around here. Hey, you might even miss it, if you give yourself the chance to think on it too long.”

There was a certain chef Asher was starting to worry about missing. Asher grinned. “Okay, if I do ride for pleasure, I promise to stay on Blackwell land.” But staying away from his cowgirl, well, Asher knew he should do that, too.

“To be fair, I’ve expanded my corn crop so there’s not much prairie out there for you to chase now anyway.” Herman’s gaze was clear and wise. “But if you’re lucky, when you’re out riding and remembering, you might find some of those roots.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Asher said and earned a quick nod of approval from Herman. He would also keep his eyes off his cowgirl.

Kelley straightened. Her arm brushed against Asher’s. Her words were apprehensive. “Herman, this looks more like a small house than a chicken coop.”

Asher finally looked at the plans.

“It’s my chicken palace.” Satisfaction and pride filled Herman’s face. “My daughter has a degree in architecture. She whipped these up for me.”

“It is quite something,” Kelley whispered.

That was an understatement. Asher rubbed his chin, already calculating the amount of wood he would need. Well, he wanted to be busy. And from the look of things, constructing the chicken palace was certainly going to fill up his days.

Kelley’s eyes widened, revealing her skepticism. “I’m not sure Asher has the time or the…”

“Or the skill,” Asher finished for her.

Kelley flushed but did not correct him.

Even his chef doubted him. He should be more upset than he was. Instead, anticipation filled him.

“You still remember how to handle all those power tools, don’t you?” Herman eyed Asher and rocked back in his boots. “If I recall correctly, Asher worked enough jobs around town, putting them to good use, just about every summer.”

Kelley watched Asher. Interest replaced the uncertainty in her expression.

“As it happens, I remember a lot about those summer days,” Asher said casually.

How things had changed. Now he simply called the building maintenance manager whenever he had a problem, big or small, in his apartment. Still, if Asher could not be behind his laptop screen, buried in work, he supposed the next best thing was having a power tool in his hand, building something.

“Well, son, you’re gonna have to prove it,” Herman said, his smile relaxed and his words resolved. “You build me this coop, and you got yourself a proper parade trailer.”

Prove it. There it was again. First Mayor Corbin and now Herman Whittaker. Asher should be insulted at being underestimated again. Ironically, he welcomed the challenge as if he had something to prove to himself and it seemed to Kelley now, too.

After all, he promised the mayor the Blackwells could be counted on. He wanted Kelley to believe it.

Challenge accepted, cowgirl.

CHAPTER NINE

“Stop right there, cowboy.” Kelley aimed the vintage stainless-steel sifter at Asher and watched him pause in the archway from the mudroom to the kitchen inside the Blackwell ranch house. She arched an eyebrow at him. “I won’t have you spreading sawdust all over my desserts.” Or wreaking havoc on her pulse.

Too late for that. Kelley hadn’t seen Asher since he had dropped her at the diner yesterday afternoon when they left Herman’s farm. It was a mere twenty-four hours later, and her pulse was doing double-time as if he had been away for much longer. And she missed him every minute. Kelley gathered her grit and shut the door on her sappy sentimental side.

Asher raised his hands, palms out. “My hands are clean.”

“But not the rest of you,” Kelley countered.

Asher lifted his arms away from his sides and glanced down as if only just noticing he was covered in sawdust from head to boots. His words were light and playful. “Can we just backtrack to the good stuff for a second?”

The good stuff was his one-sided grin tipping into his cheek. Yet, Kelley refused to get sidetracked by a neatly trimmed, close-shaved beard speckled with sawdust and a pair of mischievous blue eyes. Tonight was about her catering work, not her cowboy.

Asher drawled, “What is on the dessert menu for this evening?”