“I’m not givingToffeelove. You’re trying to kill me, just admit it.”
I smirk, rolling my eyes without breaking rhythm. “If I were trying to kill you, princess,” I mutter to myself, “you wouldn’t be standing there. You’d be flat on your back, begging for mercy.”
I glance over at her, oblivious to what I just said, waiting for me to answer her back.
She clears her throat, breaking the silence. “You do realize I am not staying here all day, right?” Her voice rings throughout the barn like a damn siren.
Fuck. Can she talk any louder?
I pause just long enough to glare at her from under the brim of my hat. “Where the hell else would you be going?”
She wipes sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, muttering under her breath. “I need to go into town, like I told you earlier today. Don’t you listen?”
I arch a brow, letting the silence stretch a little too long just to piss her off.
“For what? An emergency shopping spree? Spa day? Another excuse to waste my fucking time?”
She rolls her eyes so hard I’m amazed they stay in her head. “No, asshole. I need to look for a job.”
That makes me stop what I’m doing. I straighten, resting the shovel against the fence, and turn to face her full on.
Vartan never said a goddamn thing about her needing a job out here. All he told me was to keep her busy, teach her responsibility, and to work her ass off until she straightens out.
“A job?” I repeat.
She shoots me a pointed look like I’m the dumbest thing she’s ever laid eyes on.
“Yeah, you know employment? Earning a paycheck? Basic survival?” she snaps, hands gesturing wildly. “My father cut me off, so unless you’re planning to give me money, I need to make money somehow while I’m stuck out here in cow town.”
I narrow my eyes, studying her carefully. “And what exactly do you think you’re qualified to do?”
She practically vibrates with offense, her whole body going rigid.
“I’ll have you know," she says through gritted teeth, “I am very skilled at many things. Just because Daddy threw hush money at me to shoo me away doesn’t mean I’m helpless.” She points her finger at my chest. “My mother taught me plenty.”
The minute she says it, she shuts herself off, quick to slap up a wall I wasn’t even reaching for yet.
Before I can dig into that landmine, she barrels forward.
“Anyways, can I borrow your truck?”
“Absolutely not.”
She plants a hand on her hip, the other flicking up likeshe’s ready to punch me in the face. “And why the hell not?”
I rake my gaze down her infuriating body, letting it linger long enough to make her squirm.
“One,” I say, counting it off with my fingers, “you look like you just lost a fight with a pigpen.” I point two fingers up. “Two, I don’t trust you not to crash my damn truck into the first boutique you see.” I breathe out. Lastly, I lift the third finger, wiggling it. “And three,” I lower my voice, stepping closer just to watch her bristle. “I’m not letting you wander off alone when you don’t know jack shit about this town.”
She stares at me like she’s debating whether to claw my eyes out or choke me.
I cross my arms over my chest, unmoving.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I growl, not budging an inch.
I grab my flannel off the fence post, turning my back to her without another word, and make my way toward the house in long, heavy strides.
