Chapter 2
Heath
“Who the hell are you?”
Knowing that Mrs. Foot would have left today and looking forward to some peace and quiet, it was quite a shock to ride into the stable and see a young woman, stable cat in hand, bathed in the last of the afternoon sun, patting my mare and looking as if she belonged here.
Dark brown hair up in a high ponytail. Waves and curls falling down her back. A sweater and jacket. Leggings that show off her thick thighs and curvy hips, well worn boots and a bright smile.
For most of my life I’ve been surrounded by pencil thin women in tailored, expensive suits. It’s nice to see a curvy girl in her shabby clothes. There is something sexy in her assertive look and friendly smile. But sexy or not. She should not be here on my property.
The fact that I’m still mounted on my horse and she has to look up at me has that sweet smile faltering a little. But her chin up, eyes narrowed, she takes a moment to let the cat jump from her arms to the stable door.
“I’m Zoey Hart. I’ve been hired as a maid over Christmas. And who, may I ask, are you?”
I ignore the question and dismount. At six foot, I’m a good head taller than her so she still has to look up at me as I step closer.
“Maids work in the house. I don’t need a maid in the stables.”
She puts her hands on her hips, lips narrowed. “I was told no one else was working here.”
“That’s right. I’m Heath Beaumont. I don’t like a lot of staff around.”
“Beaumont?” She looks surprised and then, looking me up and down as I had done to her. “So you’re the billionaire who can’t be left alone for Christmas?”
Not many people dare to speak to me like this. On this farm girl, I find it oddly charming. But I don’t like the insinuation. Damn old mrs. Foot, who thinks I can’t take care of myself.
“I can look after myself just fine, thank you. Your services are not needed, so you can just go back to wherever you came from.”
“Ha. No way mister. I was promised good money to stay here over Christmas, so I’m staying. I was hired by Mrs. Foot, so I would need to hear it from her if I’m fired.”
“But Mrs. Foot works for me.” This is so incredulous I almost feel like laughing.
Zoey shrugs, an adorably stubborn look set on her features. I’m not about to bother old Mrs. Foot with this so I guess the girl can stay. It might be amusing to have her around for a little while.
“Fine.” I pick up a pitch fork and hold it out towards her. “Then you can start by cleaning out the stables.”
For a moment we stare at each other. A wealth of emotions behind those wide, brown eyes. And then she grabs the pitch fork with a little huff and sets to work. I let out a bark of laughter. The sound is strange to my own ears. But the girl is amazing, stubborn, adorable, and with a temper as I watch her dig into the hay with more force than is needed.
It’s been six months since I came back here. The one place I was truly happy as a kid and I think I’ve been searching for that feeling ever since. But it’s different now as an adult. The finest schools, over a decade running the business, and now, with the passing of my grandfather, I’ve been feeling lost.
I should go back to New York. But I can’t bring myself to give up this place just yet. With Christmas coming up fast, I may as well stay here to the new year.
This place meant freedom as a kid. Where else could I just run across the land, exploring, climbing trees. If I was at boarding school, or the penthouse in New York, I had to mind my manners, keep clean and stay quiet. Here, for a little while each summer, I wasn’t the heir to the fortune. I could just be a kid. A morning ride feels the same. The wind in my hair, a fine horse beneath me. Riding out onto my land. Chasing that feeling of freedom.
Every day it’s been the same routine. A morning ride. Take care of the animals. And then lock myself away in the study to deal with work or try and make sense of my grandfather’s accounts.
But here, now, Zoey Hart might be just the distraction I’ve been needing. She certainly has me feeling lighter than I have in a long, long time.
Chapter 3
Zoey
Heath Beaumont is nothing like I expected. In fact, when he rode in on his big, black horse, dark hair, broad shoulders, wide chest, regal posture - he quite took my breath away. Standing next to him had my pulse racing, a heat of excitement rushing through me.
He is pompous. Spoilt. Rich. But when he looks at me with those hazel eyes, the sharp jawline, the cheekbones. I about peed my pants, he is so damn good looking. He makes arrogant sexy. His deep voice and perfect pronunciation has my insides doing backflips. We were close enough I could smell the soap he uses, that mixed with a masculine scent and the heat off his body. It was all I could do to hold my ground.
If he could remove the stick from his ass, relax and maybe smile, then he would be devastatingly handsome. He’d said he didn’t need a maid in the stables, so having me clean the stables was meant to humble me. Little does he know that I’d rather muck out with the horses than dust and wash floors.
