Solid Gold Cowboy, Maisey Yates [best young adult book series TXT] 📗

the wedding day and then let it dissolve.”

“Teller of hard truths,” she muttered.

“Right. So, how do you want to get your clothes?”

“I think Dylan is gone,” she said. “So it should be pretty easy for you to go back and get them. If you don’t mind. There’s a spare key to the house under the flowerpot by the front door.”

“Wow. Very secure. Why don’t you just not lock your doors?”

“That wouldn’t be safe,” she said, deadpan.

“At least give the burglars a scavenger hunt.”

“Well, I didn’t. But it should be pretty easy for you to get in. My... I have a packed suitcase.”

“Great. I’ll grab it.”

“I don’t know where I’m going to go. I’m going to have to get a place. But I don’t make enough money at Sugar Cup to just magically have a deposit for an apartment.”

She wasn’t just an employee at Sugar Cup, she was a part owner. She had bought a stake in it a few years ago, and she had never been more proud of herself. In hindsight, it was a telling thing, really, that Dylan had been worried about how much time it would take away from their relationship, and Laz had been extremely proud of her.

That should have been clarifying all on its own. Why should her friend be happier for her than her fiancé?

“I’ll tell you what. You were supposed to be on vacation the next couple weeks anyway. Why don’t you work for me instead. Hide up here and earn some money.”

“Laz... There’s no...”

“I can pay you whatever the hell I want.”

“I’m not taking charity from you.” She couldn’t do charity. Because she’d done it. Too many times. There were always fake grins and an expectation of gratitude. She’d often thought people were waiting for her to put on a Cockney accent and do a dance number with a chimney sweep when they’d given her canned food as a child. And then of course there was Dylan’s family.

“You’re my best friend,” he said. “If you don’t take charity from me, who are you going to take it from? Anyway. I will give you jobs to do. Don’t you worry about that.”

She wouldn’t point out that she had in fact taken charity many times. When she was a kid and it was that or go hungry.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” she asked.

“Jordan, I think that you have been under the delusion that the only people that were going to ever do anything for you were Dylan and his family. I get that your parents did a hell of a number on you. And I don’t blame you for being skeptical about the fact that there are more than just four good people in this world. I get that his mother and father and brother have been there for you. And I get that in some capacity he has been. But that’s not a good enough reason to marry somebody. And it doesn’t mean that nobody else wants to be there for you. I want to be there for you. So let me.”

There was really no other option. What he was giving her was the best chance at getting her life together that she could have ever thought of. He was giving her an opportunity to hide. To earn money.

“Well, where are you going to sleep?”

“You’re very concerned about me, as if I’m not a grown man who hasn’t spent a hell of a long time taking care of himself.”

“Well, then what do you want me to do?”

“I miss my grandmother’s cooking. I miss having the house a little bit tidier. If you could be my housekeeper for the next couple of weeks...”

“I’m not going to be able to cook like your grandma.”

She recalled Laz bringing in some of the things his grandmother had made to the bar. Gladys Jenkins’s cooking had Southern roots, and while Jordan was handy—especially when it came to baking—she didn’t know anything about food from Louisiana.

“That’s fine. I eat all kinds of food. Just know that I’ll appreciate it.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it. Thank you. Because I just don’t know what else I would’ve done.”

“That’s what I do. I take care of people.”

And she couldn’t deny that, but there was something about that assurance that rang hollow to her, and she didn’t know quite what to do with it.

CHAPTER THREE

WELL, HELL. LAZ hadn’t meant to go and get himself a roommate. But, here he was. Engaging in a high level of torture that he hadn’t intended to fling himself down at the mercy of.

And as he drove down through the main street of Gold Valley, looking at the familiar redbrick buildings and pondering his life choices, he realized that there had never been a choice. Not really. He could be as irritated with himself as he wanted, but that didn’t make it... Well, any less than it was. He was going to be there for Jordan. Whatever she needed.

He just would. Because there were certain things that he... There were certain things he could give her. And certain things he couldn’t. And all of that was a tangle around what he wished.

Why hadn’t he asked her not to marry Dylan?

Because it would have been a self-interested demand. He wanted her. It was plain as that. He wanted her in his bed, but he didn’t know how to have someone else in his life.

And he wondered if he was like Gladys. Too stubborn and too solitary to ever really settle down. He had often wondered that about his own dad.

His dad was a faithful husband. He would never leave his mother. He had been dedicated to them, always. But he’d also flung himself into his work as a doctor. His practice had taken precedence over everything else. And it had caused endless issues between his parents, because his mother’s work as a lawyer had been extremely demanding and she had felt like his dad didn’t give enough at home. They had never fought. No.