He shifted on his barstool, not happy. “You don’t need to work. You’re my wife now. I can take care of your bills.”
“Joe, that’s not happening. I’ve been financially independent since I graduated from college nine years ago. I take care of my own bills.”
“You weren’t supposed to be paying for a hotel room, either, and yet here you are—”
“I don’t mind. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying I think it’d be good for me to have a job, and have a purpose. It’ll help time pass more quickly, and I’ll feel better about myself.”
He looked away, jaw hard. “I like it when you’re at the ranch. You make it feel… different.”
“Different how?” she asked, curious.
“Brighter, lighter, better.” He looked at her, managed a crooked smile. “I probably sound needy and emotional.”
She laughed out loud. “No, you don’t. Saying you enjoy my company isn’t pathetic, either. It’s a nice thing, and makes me feel wanted.”
“You’re wanted,” he said gruffly. “I look forward to having you back.”
“And I will be, once your mom isn’t so resistant to having me there.”
“This is so not easy. Managing my mom isn’t easy—” He broke off, shook his head. “I don’t want to be disloyal, but she wasn’t well when I was younger and I got mad at her for being sick. I was pretty hard on her for a number of years and it wasn’t fair. She was doing the best she could, but I pushed her away and it’s only in the last five years, since I’ve come home, that we’ve grown closer.”
“I understand.”
He looked at her, blue eyes cool and clear. “Just know I’m aware this is hard, and I’m aware it’s extra hard for you.”
“So, what do you suggest, Joe? I’m not being sarcastic. I’m completely sincere. I’ll do whatever you think is best. If you think I should move in, I’ll do it. If you think we should wait, I’ll stay in town. All I know is that I don’t want my mother-in-law hating me, so let me look for a job, and we’ll just keep seeing each other in the evening and on weekends.”
“What kind of job will you look for?”
“Ideally, something in my field. Import-export.”
“Montana’s top exports are cigarettes, coal, copper, silicon, nothing remotely like your business in California.”
“Exports are exports.”
“But these export fields are dominated by men.”
“I’m familiar with the old boys’ club. It’s part of every business.”
“You won’t be welcomed with open arms.”
“Huh. That seems to be a pattern around here.” She glanced away, battling her temper. Joe didn’t seem to realize that he wasn’t helping. He wasn’t being supportive in any way. “Would you rather I just get my nails done and take an exercise class every day?”
“Is that what you’d like to do?”
“No. I like working. I’m really good at what I do.”
“Then why did you give it up to move here?”
“Because I thought I could help with your business. I thought I could contribute to your family business. I come from a family business, and spent the past five years working for a family business so I thought I’d be needed, and wanted—”
“You are wanted,” he interrupted gruffly.
“But not needed,” she added in a low voice.
“Not yet, no, but that will change. I promise.”
She studied his expression, but he looked serious, earnest. “I’ll look for a temporary position then. I’m capable of doing just about anything in an office, but would be happy to just be busy.”
“Would you want a car? Mom’s is just sitting there. She doesn’t drive anymore.”
Sophie arched a brow. “And you think she’d go for that?”
“She might. We’d discussed selling it last November. Leave it to me.”
*
Joe called her late the next morning to check in. He’d had a sleepless night and he woke up wishing Sophie was there with him. He thought of her all the time, and even when he didn’t want to think of her, he could see her face, and the shape of her lips, and the long glossy length of her hair spilling over her shoulder.
He wanted to wake up and see her at breakfast, smiling at him over her cup of coffee. He wanted to walk with her, and take her out on the ranch and show her his favorite places. He just wanted her at the house, settled, so that they could move forward as a married couple.
Same house, same room, same bed.
His body ached and his chest tightened as it struck him that he missed his wife.
“I’ve begun looking for a car for you,” he said. “I wanted some ideas if Mom’s car isn’t an option.”
“I don’t think you should talk to your mom about her car. It’s her car, Joe.”
“She doesn’t drive it.”
“But she won’t want to sell it to me.”
“We’ll see.”
“Do we have a price range?” she asked, still sounding troubled.
“Ten to twenty thousand,” he answered, “and don’t worry. Everything will work out. I promise.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “I have news.”
“Good news?”
“I think so.”
He smiled. “Then tell me.”
“I’ve got a job! Thirty hours a week to start. Additional hours possible if it’s a good fit.”
“Doing what? Where?”
“Front desk and light bookkeeping. It’s for a hair salon, just a short walk from Bramble House on the way to Main Street. Yesterday, I saw a sign in the window that they were looking for someone to manage their front desk and so I stopped in today and after interviewing with the owner, she offered the job.”
“Do you remember the name of the salon?”
“Um… no. Darn it. I can look it up, but it’s in a pink house on the corner, if that helps.”
Joe closed his eyes. That was all he needed to know. There was only one pink house, or one pink hair salon, in all of Crawford County, and that pink house was the Wright Salon, and belonged to Charity’s younger sister, Amanda. At one point he’d spent a lot of time with Amanda because Charity and her sister were inseparable.
“Do you know it?” Sophie said, sounding uncertain.
“I do.”
“You’re not happy I’m going to be working there? It’s not my normal industry but I thought it’d be a good way to meet people in Marietta—”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“The owner, Amanda, is really nice, and she needs me. I think they’ve been without a receptionist for over a week. It was bedlam when I arrived, and I get the job by just jumping in, answering the phone, and helping look up appointments.”
“Good for you.”
“I can also get my hair done for free. Every month I get to have a free service, whether it’s my hair or a spa service.”
Joe frowned, picturing her long glossy dark hair. He loved her hair. “What would you do to your hair? It’s perfect.”