Read Online Texas Twist (Texas Montgomery Mavericks) by Cynthia D’Alba - Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia D’Alba
Tags: Cowboys
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open area. “Are you going to be using the other bedrooms?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t thought that far.”
Glancing down at her watch, she swore. “I’ve got to go. My last night of work at Leo’s starts in thirty minutes.” She hurried toward the stairs. “Good luck with the cleaning,” she tossed over her shoulder.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What? You aren’t going to help me?”
“Nope.” Her answer floated up from the bottom of the stairs. “You’re on your own with that.” She produced a fake sneeze. “Dust allergy, remember?”
“Bull,” he yelled back. Her answering laugh made him smile.
He didn’t deserve her friendliness. He’d treated her horribly. He knew it. Hell, he’d known back then that he was a shit but he hadn’t been ready for someone like her in his life.
And now here she was…the right age, the right maturity, the right everything, except this time, he was nothing but a damaged cowboy who had nothing to offer someone like her. She deserved better than him.
After her car crunched down the gravel drive, he headed downstairs to look for cleaning supplies, which he located under the kitchen sink. A new-looking vacuum stood in the hall closet, but he thought a rag with soap and water might do as well.
With no water available, he had to trudge up the steps carrying a three-gallon bucket of soapy water with a stack of cleaning cloths under his arm. Starting in his bedroom, he made a long swipe with a wet cloth down the wall. Years of grime coated his towel.
Maybe he should have hired a cleaning service instead.
Except he needed the exercise. He had to get this done before he could move in here. Once he got finished today, he’d head out for the whiskey he really wanted. Sort of payment for a job well done. Nothing wrong with that.
Two hours later, his left leg was on fire. His back cramped like he’d been on a bull for an hour. Sweat dripped down his face and stung his eyes. But his bedroom was clean.
He stood back, propped his hands on his hips and admired his work. The oak floor gleamed. The glass in the window sparkled. Even the overhead light seemed brighter.
Bending over at his waist, he stretched his hands toward the floor, straightening his back muscles, relieving a little of the pain. His leg still protested bearing his weight for the extended time, but the fire in his thigh had abated a little.
He debated stopping versus moving on to the bathroom and ultimately moved on. If he quit now, he might never get going again.
But, damn, he wanted a beer. Or whiskey. Or a shot of whiskey dropped in a beer.
The bathroom cleaning seemed to go faster. Either because it hadn’t collected as much dust over the years—which he doubted—or because he had his cleaning routine down to a fine art—which was where he laid his money. A mere ninety minutes in that room and he was done.
Still, the three-and-a-half hours of cleaning had taken almost five hours when he factored in dumping the dirty water and getting fresh every thirty minutes or so.
He thought about tackling the other rooms, but his phone rang as soon as he picked up his pail of dirty water. Setting it back down, he pulled his phone out of his front pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey,” his mother said. “How are you?”
His knees practically groaned in relief when he sat on the top step to take the call. “I’m good, Mom. What’s up?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with us? We loved having you and Noah here the other night.”
“I know. But I just…well…”
“Need to do this yourself, right?”
Thankful he’d been given a great set of parents, he smiled. “Something like that.”
“The reason I’m calling is that Caroline is coming home from the hospital today or tomorrow. Olivia and I are taking dinner over Sunday. Enough for a family meal. We want you there.”
“Are Travis and Caroline aware the entire clan will be invading their house? I mean,
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t thought that far.”
Glancing down at her watch, she swore. “I’ve got to go. My last night of work at Leo’s starts in thirty minutes.” She hurried toward the stairs. “Good luck with the cleaning,” she tossed over her shoulder.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What? You aren’t going to help me?”
“Nope.” Her answer floated up from the bottom of the stairs. “You’re on your own with that.” She produced a fake sneeze. “Dust allergy, remember?”
“Bull,” he yelled back. Her answering laugh made him smile.
He didn’t deserve her friendliness. He’d treated her horribly. He knew it. Hell, he’d known back then that he was a shit but he hadn’t been ready for someone like her in his life.
And now here she was…the right age, the right maturity, the right everything, except this time, he was nothing but a damaged cowboy who had nothing to offer someone like her. She deserved better than him.
After her car crunched down the gravel drive, he headed downstairs to look for cleaning supplies, which he located under the kitchen sink. A new-looking vacuum stood in the hall closet, but he thought a rag with soap and water might do as well.
With no water available, he had to trudge up the steps carrying a three-gallon bucket of soapy water with a stack of cleaning cloths under his arm. Starting in his bedroom, he made a long swipe with a wet cloth down the wall. Years of grime coated his towel.
Maybe he should have hired a cleaning service instead.
Except he needed the exercise. He had to get this done before he could move in here. Once he got finished today, he’d head out for the whiskey he really wanted. Sort of payment for a job well done. Nothing wrong with that.
Two hours later, his left leg was on fire. His back cramped like he’d been on a bull for an hour. Sweat dripped down his face and stung his eyes. But his bedroom was clean.
He stood back, propped his hands on his hips and admired his work. The oak floor gleamed. The glass in the window sparkled. Even the overhead light seemed brighter.
Bending over at his waist, he stretched his hands toward the floor, straightening his back muscles, relieving a little of the pain. His leg still protested bearing his weight for the extended time, but the fire in his thigh had abated a little.
He debated stopping versus moving on to the bathroom and ultimately moved on. If he quit now, he might never get going again.
But, damn, he wanted a beer. Or whiskey. Or a shot of whiskey dropped in a beer.
The bathroom cleaning seemed to go faster. Either because it hadn’t collected as much dust over the years—which he doubted—or because he had his cleaning routine down to a fine art—which was where he laid his money. A mere ninety minutes in that room and he was done.
Still, the three-and-a-half hours of cleaning had taken almost five hours when he factored in dumping the dirty water and getting fresh every thirty minutes or so.
He thought about tackling the other rooms, but his phone rang as soon as he picked up his pail of dirty water. Setting it back down, he pulled his phone out of his front pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey,” his mother said. “How are you?”
His knees practically groaned in relief when he sat on the top step to take the call. “I’m good, Mom. What’s up?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with us? We loved having you and Noah here the other night.”
“I know. But I just…well…”
“Need to do this yourself, right?”
Thankful he’d been given a great set of parents, he smiled. “Something like that.”
“The reason I’m calling is that Caroline is coming home from the hospital today or tomorrow. Olivia and I are taking dinner over Sunday. Enough for a family meal. We want you there.”
“Are Travis and Caroline aware the entire clan will be invading their house? I mean,
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