“Let’s go,” I say by way of greeting.
I start walking in the direction of the bunkhouse. Nathan follows along beside me, and I force myself to keep one step ahead of him, even though he has a good couple of inches on me and his strides are longer. By the time we reach the bunkhouse, I’m slightly out of breath.
“So,” I say. “This is the bunkhouse. We don’t have many volunteers at the moment, so it’s only going to be you and Tomás in there, though he’s out tonight. So you’ll have plenty of space.” I unlock the door, and flick on the light switch. “This is it.”
I watch as Nathan takes it in, from the old wooden bunk beds to the scratchy blankets and flat pillows, and the small chest of drawers against the back wall.
“It’s…” He falters for a moment. “Rustic.”
“Sure, rustic. Whatever. Bathrooms are in there,” I say, pointing at one of the doors. “And the kitchenette is in here.” I pull aside a curtain and show him the fridge and microwave we have. “Women’s beds are through there, but it’s locked on this side,” I say, pointing towards the door at the end of the long aisle of beds. “And that’s about it. Any questions?”
“Just one,” Nathan says. “Is there water in the bathroom or is it basically an outhouse?”
My cheeks flame at that, and I force myself to take a deep breath. I’m not happy with the condition of the bunkhouse either, but it’s low on my list of priorities for the rescue. “It’s got water, Nathan. And if you’re lucky, it’ll even get hot sometimes. Enjoy your stay.”
Nathan looks like he desperately wants to ask me if I’m being serious about the hot water (I am), but he decides against it and just nods tersely.
“We start at 6:30, sharp,” I tell him with a saccharine smile. “Will that be a problem?”
“No, Candice, that will not be a problem,” he grinds out.
“Are you sure? Early mornings might cut into your time spent drinking and whoring.”
Nathan gives me a look that could wither flowers. “Is that what you think I do?”
“Am I wrong? The Western Horsewoman interview made it seem like you were happy to remain single and unattached forever, and that your favorite place aside from the barn was a bar.”
Nathan’s stare turns from deathly to fiery as he takes a step towards me. “Been reading my interviews, Candy Cane?”
“Don’tcall me that,” I hiss.
“Fine. Hissing Viper it is. But the point still stands. You’ve been reading my interviews, and I’d like to know why. I’d also like to know why you seem so concerned with my sex life.” Nathan smiles as he says the last part, a slow, languid smile that reminds me of honey being drizzled into a glass.
I take a few steps back, my back now nearly flush with the wall behind me, but Nathan just follows, like a mountain lion stalking its prey.
“Well?” he prompts. His blue eyes blaze in the dim light and the strong angles of his face are thrown into sharp relief. If I’m a viper, he’s something much, much more dangerous.
“One, I don’t control what trash the editors of Western Horsewoman deem worthy of publishing, but I can say that the magazine has gone downhill since I subscribed years ago.” I pause, and Nathan just stares at me, challenging me to continue and answer the second part of his question. I take a deep breath. “And two, I’m worried about the women of this town. They don’t need your type sniffing around them.”
“What’s my type, exactly?” Nathan says, smiling a bit wider, like he’s loving this conversation. “Because I’m sure the women of this town will like me just fine. They always do.”
“You know, the type who leaves in the middle of the night without saying goodbye and never texts again. The type who’s around for a good time, never a long time. The type,” I swallow and choke out the next words, “who barely sees the women in front of him as anything but potential pieces of ass. And if they don’t meet his standards, then he barely sees them at all.” The memory of the first time I met Nathan burns through me in a blaze.
Nathan takes yet another step towards me, backing me fully up against the wall, as if he’s trying to intimidate me with his physical presence. But it doesn’t work. I tip my chin up and meet his gaze head on.
“So that’s what you think of me?” he asks, his tone acidic.
“Yes.”
“Well, jealousy looks bad on you, Candice,” he says. For some reason, he reaches out and tugs gently, just once, on the end of my braid. The action makes me shiver.
“Jealousy, Nathan? Is that what you think it is?” I manage to huff out a laugh as I say this, despite being completely unnerved. “As soon as I’d spent five minutes in your presence, I realized that nothing on heaven or earth could move me to tolerate you, let alone convince me to want you. I’m not interested in being just another piece of ass.”
Nathan’s gaze shutters, just a bit, and a small thread of guilt worms its way into me. But I shake it off because I’m just telling him the truth.
“That’s not the type of jealousy I was talking about, Candice. But thanks for making it clear that you’ve thought about having sex with me.”
“What the f?—”
