Forever Cowboy (Montana Brides Book 5) by Leeanna Morgan Page A

hour longer to drive back to Bozeman the next morning. Mondays were always the busiest day of the week in the boutique. He liked to arrive early, review the work schedule and talk about any changes with the contractors. But most of all, he liked to set everything in motion before one pesky redhead made an appearance.
    Emily was driving him insane. When she wasn’t at home sewing, she followed him around the building like a second shadow. Except this shadow wanted to know everything about the remodel. And when she couldn’t be there she insisted he email her photos from his cell phone.  
    When they’d finished scraping years of paint off the staircase, Emily had driven across town to have a look. He might have given her a hard time, but he had to admit he felt more than a touch of pride at the finished product. After a couple of coats of varnish the wood turned to a rich honey, gleaming under the fluorescent lights someone had installed a few years back.  
    And that reminded him about the electrician and the lighting catalog he’d left with Emily. God knew what light fittings she’d want to install. After their disagreement about the paint color, he wasn’t going to risk leaving any decisions until the last minute.  
    He slowed down as he passed the boutique. Either someone had left the door open or they had unexpected visitors. He did a u-turn and parked outside Tess’ café. His heart rate kicked up a notch when he remembered the tools stacked on each floor. They hadn’t installed an alarm, figuring the town was more curious than criminally minded about what was going on inside the building. But curious people stuck their head in the door during normal business hours, not at five o’clock on a Sunday evening.  
    He grabbed his metal crutch out of the cab. He might not need it for walking, but it would make a good weapon if someone decided to get rough. He ran his gaze over the front of the building. Apart from front door being open, nothing looked as though it was damaged.  
    He thought he could hear music. Country music. Not that he was biased, but he didn’t think anyone with criminal intentions would listen to country music. Which made about as much sense as finding the building unlocked. He pushed against the door handle.  
    “What the…?” Emily had her back to him, rolling paint the color of ripe raspberries on the walls. The green scarf knotted on her head bobbed in time with the music. Every now and then she started singing in an off-tune, no one’s listening kind of way.  
    He walked across the room and switched off the music. Emily spun around. The roller in her hand clattered to the floor and she nearly leapt as high as the ceiling.  
    “Jeez, you gave me a heart attack.” She looked at where the long handled roller had landed and grabbed it off the floor. With a scowl plastered across her face she asked, “What are you doing here?”
    “I was going to ask you the same question.”
    Her face turned as red as the wall she was painting. “I had some free time, so I thought I’d do something to help.”
    He looked around the room. Emily had painted one wall as far as the first set of bookcases. She’d made good use of the scaffolding, but he didn’t have a clue how she’d managed to reach the underside of the moldings. When he saw the stepladder sitting on top of the scaffolding, his blood pressure went berserk
    “What the hell were you doing up there?”
    “Don’t roar at me, Alex Green. I was perfectly safe.” She glanced at the ladder. “I’ve painted walls before.”
    “Not balanced thirty feet in the air you haven’t. You could have killed yourself.”
    Emily’s green scarf slipped over one eye. She pushed it back and glared at him. “Well I’m still here, so stop yelling and help me clean up the mess you made.”
    “I made?” He stomped across to the drop cloth covered in paint from the roller. “Anyone could have walked in here. You had the damn music up so loud that