Downpour: A Grumpy Sunshine Romance (The Griffith Brothers Book 2)
Downpour: Chapter 3

“Shit!” I squeaked as my foot caught on the uneven sidewalk outside Mr. Wilson’s house, sending me sprawling. My palms slammed against the cement and my knee followed. The concrete’s jagged edge bit into my skin and blood trickled down my shin.

I bit my lip, rolled onto my butt, and poked at the gash to examine the damage. That only made it bleed more.

On the bright side, at least I was done with my only client for the day and could enjoy the glorious weather with a good book and my feet propped up.

I brushed myself off and hobbled to my car, grimacing at the sharp ache in my knee. As I settled into the driver’s seat, a truck whizzed by, making my car shake. I held my breath, hoping the mirrors would stay on.

Just as I pulled away from the curb, I spotted a blob of tapioca pudding on my shirt. Typical. But it wasn’t enough to ruin my day.

I slowed to a stop at the next light and peeled off the Caring Hands uniform polo, swapping it for a workout tank top from the floorboard.

As I struggled out of one top and into the other, an impatient honk sounded from behind me. I waved apologetically and eased through the intersection.

My phone buzzed. With one hand on the wheel, I rummaged through my bag. “Hello?”

“Brooke, are you done at Mr. Wilson’s house?” Peggy’s voice echoed.

“Yes, ma’am. I just left.”

“You have another client. I’m texting you the address. It’s half an hour away, so don’t dilly dally.”

I eyed the fuel gauge. “I thought Mr. Wilson was my only client?”

“Do you want the job or not? There’s a cash bonus today, and double pay if you last longer than a week.”

Money today? Double in a week? Sold. I needed the cash more than a relaxing afternoon in the park. Hopefully, the family and the client wouldn’t mind that I wasn’t in the proper uniform. Mr. Wilson certainly didn’t care, and Peggy didn’t have eyes everywhere.

Or did she? Maybe that’s why she was adding to my route.

“I’m on my way,” I chirped.

Peggy chuckled ominously. “Good luck.”

I punched the address into my GPS and swung a U-turn at the next light.

I drove with the windows down, singing my heart out to the radio. Five wrong turns and a pit-stop for gas later, I found myself speeding down a dirt road.

Dust whipped up from beneath my tires as I drove under a timber gate, that read Griffith Brothers Ranch.

Wide plains rolled across the horizon in an endless sea of green. Peggy hadn’t been kidding—this place was in the middle of nowhere.

Gosh, it was gorgeous.

My tires skidded through each turn as I navigated the dirt path, following Peggy’s brief directions on how to find the client’s house. I passed a picturesque house with white siding and a blue star on the side, then took a left at the split in the path.

The next two houses were nearly identical, with covered porches and neat landscaping. The second of the pair had bicycles in the yard. Barns and warehouses were scattered across the grounds.

And standing right in the middle of the dirt road was a cow with pink and yellow pool noodles on its horns.

I stopped and poked my head out of the window. “Hi, friend! Could you move out of the way, please? I don’t want to turn you into ground beef.”

To my surprise, the cow obliged and sauntered toward one of the buildings that had corrugated metal siding.

I followed the long road a few more miles until I spotted the white-sided house peeking out from behind a thick grove of trees.

The car bumped as the tires went from dirt to a freshly paved driveway. The black asphalt glimmered in the waves of afternoon heat. A brand-new wheelchair ramp was accented with a patriotic garden flag at the very end.

I pulled up beside a truck covered in a tarp, grabbed my gas station haul, and hopped out.

“Hello?” I called out as I propped the bags on my hip and knocked on the door. When no one answered, I gave the handle a jiggle for good measure. It was locked.

Silence for miles. No engines. No voices. No car horns. Nothing.

The trees rustled as a gentle breeze danced across the yard. The house was picturesque. Neatly edged flower beds were covered in dark mulch. The house had a star on the side, matching the one on the house at the front of the property.

I really should have walked around to try to find the client Peggy had assigned me, but the sun felt too good. I plopped down on the front step and took it all in. Today was the perfect day to stop and smell the roses.

The scrape of hooves made me look up from the plant on my lap. The cow with pool noodles on his horns sauntered up the drive and gave me a curious look.

“Oh, hello again.” I couldn’t help but smile at the pool noodles. “Are you friendly? You look friendly. Can I pet you?”

As if he understood me, the cow eased up and settled down in front of the steps. His head was heavy against my leg.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” I smoothed my hand down his nose. “What’s your name, handsome boy?”

He let out a soft grunt and promptly fell asleep right then and there.

“That settles it,” I said as I scratched beneath his copper-colored chin. “I’ll just wait here until they get home.”

It was common law that if an animal laid on you, you were to be their bed until they deemed it time to get up. I shuffled my things to the side so his head could take up full residency on my lap.

A rumble like thunder started low in the distance. The growl of the engine grew closer and closer until I spotted the nose of the truck poking through the opening in the trees.

The cow didn’t stir. Poor guy must’ve been tuckered out.

A heavyset man with a thick beard leaned out of the driver’s side window as he navigated the curving driveway. Two other people were in the truck, but the glare from the sun obscured them from view.

I nudged the cow. “Hey, fella. I need to get up now.”

It didn’t even open an eye.

The truck came to a stop five feet from my knees, and the door opened.

“Hello!” I said, waving at the driver.

His hair was tied back in a neat bun, though most of it was hidden beneath his cowboy hat. Brown boots scraped against the paved driveway.

“Ma’am,” he said with a nod.

The passenger’s side door opened, and a woman stepped out. She took one look at me and raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

Oh my god, she was hot. And scary.

“Who? Me?” I clarified.

She rolled her eyes. “No, I meant Mickey. Of course, I mean you.”

At the mention of his name, the cow—Mickey—lifted his head and looked at the woman.

“Get lost,” she shooed.

“Cass,” the cowboy said as a warning as he reached into the bed of the truck and lifted a wheelchair out.

I scrambled to grab the plastic gas station bag and my plant as the cow heaved himself back to his feet.

“Bye, Mickey.” I patted his back as he wandered off. “Thanks for the snuggles.”

The cowboy set the wheelchair on the ground. His body was hidden behind the back door as he reached in to help the third person from the truck.

“Who are you?” the woman asked sharply.

She ignored my outstretched hand and hit me with a bone-chilling stare. “We aren’t hiring yet.”

“O-oh…” I stammered before I finally got the words out. “No, I was sent here from Caring Hands Home Help.”

“Then you can leave.” The voice came from behind the truck door.

I watched curiously as the cowboy shut the door.

Oh my stars.

The guy in the wheelchair was hot. Like panty-dropping hot. Like, melt my clothes off with one glance h-o-t.

I looked down to make sure my tank top hadn’t spontaneously combusted.

Tattoos covered every inch of his arms, and I caught a glimpse of ink peeking out from the collar of his shirt as the art extended up his neck. His jaw was sharp like an arrowhead and covered in dark scruff. He had cheekbones that models would kill for. Brown eyes pierced through me. His hair was disheveled in a way that screamed, “Hello, sir, she calls me daddy, too.” His nose was adorably crooked as if it had been broken and reset. It gave him an edge that made my heart flutter.

Wait. He was the client?

Oh, no, no, no. I assisted elderly people. Really unattractive, one-foot-in-the-grave elderly people. I picked up their prescriptions, cooked their meals, and provided companionship so their loved ones could have a break. Most of them thought I was their granddaughter. I usually played along. It was easier than correcting them.

I didn’t work for hot men who made my heart skip. I couldn’t do this job with a cardiac condition. Heart skipping had to be a dealbreaker, right?

“Be nice,” the cowboy scolded. “Both of you.”

The man in the wheelchair and the woman growled at the same time.

“Well, Brooke from Caring Hands,” the woman said. “You were supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. Ray almost missed his PT appointment because you were late. Is this going to be a regular pattern of behavior for you?”

“I got lost, and then I had to stop for gas.” I looked down at the plant in my hand. “And there was this lady at the gas station selling these plants on a table outside. They all seemed like they were dying because of the heat, so I bought one to save it. It’s a rescue plant—you know, like a rescue puppy, but a⁠—”

She lifted her hand. “That’s quite enough.”

The guy in the wheelchair seemed slightly amused, but the threat in his eyes quickly returned.

The cowboy sighed. “For god’s sake. Use your manners, you feral heathens. My children and the animals behave better than you two.”

When he looked at the woman, there was a warmth in his eyes. There was a softer side to their relationship.

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” the cowboy said. “I’m Christian Griffith. I run the ranch. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Griffith,” I said. Some people only said to reach out as a polite gesture, but I believed him when he said it.

I shifted my weight uneasily in my flip-flops. Should I ask to go inside? The sun was scorching my shoulders.

Christian nudged the man in the wheelchair.

He grumbled something at Christian before huffing at me. “I’m Ray.”

I gasped. “Oh my god! Your name is Ray? Like a ray of sunshine? I love it!”

I held up the plant for him to see. “I brought this for you! I can help you name her if you want. All plants need names, you know? I’m still trying to figure out her personality, but ‘Betty’ seems like a good fit. The lady at the gas station said it’ll bloom when you meet the love of your life. Isn’t that fun?”

Ray’s gaze dropped to my knee. “You’re bleeding.” His stern timber made my head spin and my heart flutter.

Was it normal to feel like you were going to pass out when talking to a man?

“Oh, that?” I laughed neurotically. “I tripped.” I tried to wave it off casually, but accidentally dropped the plant. The terracotta pot shattered on the asphalt. The already wilting leaves sizzled on the blacktop.

The woman cackled. “This’ll be fun to watch. I sincerely hope you last longer than the last one. We could use some entertainment around here.”

Ray remained silent. The disdain in his eyes said it all.

That was fine. I enjoyed a challenge.

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