“No worries there.” I take a step back, irritated at myself for expecting more than I’m getting and for thinking that showing up at the ranch was going to fix all the shit in my head. In reality, taking one look at her had done nothing but piss me off and made the envelope folded in my pocket that much heavier. “By the looks of your ranch, it seems that what I’ve heard is true and that moments of weakness are all you seem to have.”
“And you wonder why I told you to leave?” she all but shouts as she takes a step toward me, anger lighting up her features. “I don’t hire people who run their mouths in the Lone Star rumor mill. You’ve been in town, what? A whole three days, and they’ve already gotten to you. Thanks, but no thanks. I like people I can trust working for me.”
“I’m not the one whose integrity is in question,” I say, her wince telling me the barb hit its mark and giving me the reason behind her hostility. That she knows and doesn’t like what people in town say about her.
I wouldn’t either if I were her because none of it is flattering in the least.
And yet, after hearing every last juicy tidbit of it, I still showed up today. Here I stand, trying to find some kind of redemption for myself when I’m pretty sure there isn’t any to be had.
For the briefest of moments, I feel guilty for being a dick and for taking my anger out on her when she has nothing to do with it.
Then again, it’s not as if she’s all smiles and sunshine either.
Fuck.
With a sigh and a resignation of my temper and impatience, I shake my head. Let’s try this again.
“From the looks of your ranch, you need me.”
“I don’t need anyone.” A half-cocked smile tilts up her lips.
Your words and your eyes aren’t matching up there, sweetheart.
“And for the record, it’s my husband’s ranch, not mine.”
“He’s dead, so technically, it is yours.” She doesn’t want to pull any punches, then neither will I.
“Ah, the lovely Lone Star rumor mill strikes again? Who was it this time? The guy at the gas station? The waitress at the diner? Perhaps the teller at the bank? Oh, wait, was it Ginger? He’s a smart man and usually stays neutral, so if it was him, that’s a new development.”
Her nonchalance at how much people in town dislike her is not unexpected considering how blasé she’s been about everything else thus far.
“Nope. Your words on the phone last week during our interview.” I take the pause she’s given me with her lax lips and wide-eyed stare and make a show of looking around. I had heard it from her first, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t also hear it from everyone I talked to as well.
A controlling husband who was flashy with his money but who couldn’t seem to get this place up and running to save his life. A fiery car accident that claimed his life. His high-and-mighty wife who thinks she is too good for the town they live in and can’t seem to keep a single employee on staff.
“Like I said, I don’t need anyone,” she reiterates, breaking the silence stretching between us like a rubber band that is bound to snap. “I’ve got this handled.”
“About to lose your farm is not exactly what I’d call having things handled.”
“Whoever told you that is full of shit,” she says.
“You sure about that?” I ask, noting the uncertainty fleet across her face—lips pulled tight, eyes widened, and jaw clenched. “From what I hear—”
“I’m not losing the ranch,” she asserts. “Not even close.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw, uncertain whether I believe her or not. The rod in her spine tells me she’s telling the truth but everyone else in this town tells me otherwise.
Maybe they just want her to.
And maybe a small part of me did too until I got here.
“I don’t associate with people who lie,” I muse as I lean against the railing behind me.
“Then what in the hell are you doing at the bar in town? They all lie and you’re listening to them, right?”
Touché.
“Why’d you tell me to come out here, Knox, if you already knew you were going to fire me the minute I showed up on your porch?” I ask, curious about her when I shouldn’t care.
“Why’d you sit in town and listen to the rumors, believe them, before you ever even met me? Shouldn’t your boss be given more respect than that?”
“I don’t believe rumors, but they aren’t lies if they’re true.” I shift on my feet, the wood of the porch creaking beneath me. “And respect is earned, not expected.”
This woman. Hell. If her spite wasn’t so damn frustrating, it might be a little attractive.
“Why are you still standing here?” she asks.
“Good question.” I wondered the same thing. Turning my back to her, I take in the dead flowers and weeds overflowing the planters positioned around the porch and let my eyes skate over the paint peeling on the railing on the verandah.
But I know why I’m here.
I know what guilt feels like as it weighs you down so heavily you’ll do anything—even deal with a woman like Tatum Knox—if it means you just might get to lift it off your shoulders.
It’s a goddamn emotional tug of war, and I’m not quite sure which side I want to win.
“You hired me to get you more business,” I say when I turn back around. “You think potential clients are going to be eager to buy a horse when they stroll up here and see this?” I motion to the first set of pots. “How can you be trusted to keep horses healthy when you can’t even keep flowers alive?” I give a slow shake of my head in displeasure, causing her to scowl.
“If you’re trying to win my favor, you’re going about this all wrong.”
“Winning your favor is the least of my worries.” I cross my arms over my chest and just hold her glare for glare. “Forget me being able to secure quality studs to breed. Screw me getting the ranch new clients under a long-term contract. What you really need more than anything is a ranch manager who is worth a shit.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” I nod. “By the looks of what I see, he’s not managing shit. Your hired help isn’t pulling their weight. Your feed isn’t being housed properly. You have fences that seem to have been broken for some time. And I haven’t even started on the horses. For a ranch that survives by selling its foals, it doesn’t look like you have nearly enough pregnant mares out there, which is something you mentioned during our phone interview.”
Those eyes of hers narrow.
Hit a nerve now, did I?
“I didn’t realize I asked your opinion.”
“You didn’t have to. I give opinions freely.” I smile, but I do it to piss her off.
Truth hurts, doesn’t it, sweetheart?
I recall the comments that were made in town.
“That Tatum woman doesn’t fit in here.”
“She supposedly works on the ranch, but come on, what rancher has the beautician come out on the regular to do her hair and nails? She’s probably the gopher. Or the trophy groomer. There’s gotta be a reason why she runs all the employees off. She’s probably worried word will get out that she doesn’t know what in the hell she’s doing.”