“I thought we were doing just fine. I handle the feed and grooming. You handle the horses and everything else we agreed upon in that fancy contract you signed. So, as long as we stay out of each other’s ways, we’ll get along perfectly.”
His shadow against the wall in front of me moves as he takes a step closer. “Works for me, but I can’t do my job properly because we have yet to sit and talk about the breeding schedule or the budget for stud fees. The—”
“I trust you to handle it.”
He emits a low, disbelieving chuckle. “Handle what, exactly? A little direction would be nice. A budget would be a good start. Information about who’s already been bred with who would also be helpful. But hell, if you’re giving me carte blanche to do as I please, I’ll just shoot for the damn moon and find a Thoroughbred for Ruby—”
“That isn’t what I said!” The words tumble out in a panic. The stud fees that Fletcher used to quote have my throat closing up. There’s no way I can afford anywhere even close to them. More importantly, Ruby’s up for sale. The last thing I need is her getting pregnant and losing the only way I have to keep this place afloat. I scramble with what to say, with how to tell him I don’t even have enough money to pay him let alone exorbitant stud fees. “Leave Ruby out of this.”
“You said you trusted me, though.” He flashes me a smile and then tilts his head in thought. “Why is it you get so irritated with me? One minute, you’re fine, the next, you aren’t. It’d make this working environment a whole lot easier if you just admitted you liked me and told me I’m doing a good job.” He takes a step closer to me. “In fact, fantastic would be an even better adjective to use.”
“Fantastic?” I ask with a lift of my eyebrows and a shake of my head. When he takes another step toward me, I want to take one in retreat but am unable to with the counter at my back.
The dreams come back to me. The feel of his body against mine. The taste of his kiss on my lips. The featherlight touch of his fingertips over my skin.
The settled feeling I had from his presence during them is almost overwhelming.
He leans forward and lowers his voice, that cocksure grin irritating and attractive all at the same time. “Yes, fantastic.”
His voice right now doesn’t help me forget anything at all.
“You’re staring at me,” I finally say after a few seconds have passed, and I’m more unnerved than not without anything pertinent to say.
“And?”
“And don’t you have work to do?”
“Sure do.” Another megawatt smile meant to irritate me. “But until you start filling me in on the details I need to do it, then I’m just going to follow you around”—he crosses his arms over his chest, leans his hip against the wall, and simply holds that smile as steadfast as his gaze— “and stare at you like you do me.”
“I don’t stare at you.”
I absolutely do.
His laughter is his answer. “Most women have a hard time resisting the jeans and the hat.” I begin to speak, and he cuts me off. “I know. You are not most women.” Moving a step closer to me, he takes the scoop from my hand without asking, and begins to measure the supplements. “But I’ll grow on you. Pretty soon, you won’t have any other choice but to like me.” His shoulder rubs against mine as he leans forward to pour the supplements into Sky’s bucket. “Next thing you know, you’ll be daydreaming about me.”
“Give me the scoop,” I say through a laugh with a swipe of my hand, but he holds his hand above his head, which makes it impossible for me to reach.
“Nope. Not until you talk, Knox. We can’t make this work—the ranch, that is—until you get me up to speed on all its problems.”
“You’ve seen all the problems. In fact, you don’t hesitate to point them out every time you find a new one.”
He gives his head a measured nod, but his eyes don’t waver. “There are always problems no one can see. Those are the ones that will ruin a ranch . . . pull it under. Last time I checked, you not trusting me is one of those problems.”
I bristle at the truth in what he just said . . . and lie. “I trust you.”
“Nice try, but lip service isn’t going to do shit. You won’t give trust, but you expect it. That there is a problem.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t?”
“No.” I raise my voice and stand on my tiptoes to reinforce my denial and hope that it hides the fact that I’m on the defensive. Really, I want to refute everything he’s saying simply because he’s right.
“Then we’ll do this another way,” he says and takes a step back, his words confusing me. “You’re doing this all wrong.”
I bark out a laugh of disbelief and pretend the condescension in his voice and the rebuke doesn’t sting. “What do you mean I’m doing this all wrong? The ranch? You’re the one doing everything wrong,” I say calmly while my pulse pounds in my ears.
“Define everything.”
“The horses. The schedule. The—the . . . just everything.”
“You mean the schedule you refuse to talk to me about? That schedule?” His chuckle grates on my nerves. “Why don’t you tell me specifically what I’m doing wrong with the schedule and then explain to me how you normally handle it so I can correct the error in my ways?”
I want to stomp away and leave him to enjoy his sarcasm all alone, but I end up narrowing my eyes and glaring at him instead.
“You changed the routine.”
He swears under his breath. “How would I know I changed it if you never gave me one to follow in the first place? Let’s see. I’ve tended to the horses, I’ve put in calls to past associates, trying to cash in IOUs to get some of them out here to look at us as a breeding partner, the stables are getting a much-needed facelift, and the farrier was out here today. For not knowing the routine, I’d say I’m doing pretty damn fantastic. Forgive me if I’m not adhering to your routine, but they’re always easier to follow when they aren’t imaginary.”
“You can add knocking that condescending smirk off your lips,” I say and hold my hand out for him to give me the scoop back.
“Should I use my invisible pen to add it to the imaginary schedule?”
“It’s time for you to go and work now and to stop badgering me. I’ll get you the lists and schedules and whatever else you want by tonight,” I say, making the offer purely to get him and his charming smile out of my face because it’s so much easier to ignore my dreams when he isn’t in my line of sight. “Is that acceptable?”
“It’s fantastic.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Just face it, Knox. You’re head over heels in love with me.” He finally smiles, dimple winking and those eyes lighting up as he takes a step toward me, holding the scoop to his chest. “You can’t be near me because you want me, and you can’t talk to me because you get all flustered and tongue-tied.”
“There is nothing about you I find attractive,” I lie.