There was a pause. Long enough for me to think maybe he’d take the hint.
He didn’t.
Instead, he knelt beside me and reached for the scoop.
“I’ll fill the buckets. Just point me to the right kennels.”
I grabbed the scoop from his hand without looking at him.
“I’ve got it.”
He didn’t budge.
"Okay, tell me what you do need help with."
His voice was annoyingly calm, like he was determined to absorb my energy and wear me down.
I finally glanced over.
His hoodie was rumpled, dark green, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His hair was slightly damp as if he’d just showered and hadn’t bothered with a hat. And those eyes—clear and sharp—watched me without flinching.
Great. He looked good. And here I was, covered in straw dust and self-doubt.
"Why are you here, Colton?" I asked, dropping food into the first bowl with more noise than necessary.
"I wanted to help."
Why am I annoyed? He is here to help—without the PR entourage.
Why is he so confusing?
His jaw ticked just slightly. "Just wanted to see if the grumpy girl who throws hay like a gladiator needed a hand."
I turned toward him, ready to say something—what, I didn’t know. One look at him, and the words tangle in my throat.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
I walked away.
But, of course, he followed.
“Careful, you missed a spot,” he said, nodding toward a patch of dust I’d just swept.
I spun around, broom still in hand. “Do you want a medal, or are you just trying to annoy me on purpose?”
Colton grinned, infuriatingly relaxed. “Just trying to be useful.”
“You’re not. You’re in the way.” I turned back, aggressively sweeping the same spot again to prove I wasn’t rattled—even though I was very rattled.
“Wow. You really do sweep angry.” He leaned against the wall near the kennels, arms folded. “Should I be worried?”
I shot him a glare. “Only if you plan on getting between me and the disinfectant.”
He chuckled, low and warm. “Noted.”
I moved to the next kennel and began replacing bedding, trying to block out the awareness of his presence. But his footsteps trailed me, soft and steady, matching every move I made like some stubborn shadow.
“I’m not here to make things worse,” he said, quieter now, like he was trying. “I just… I hate feeling useless.”
