The inside of the house looks about as rough as the outside, but I keep my comments to myself as I follow him down one of the hallways.
There are a few photos on the mantle that catch my eye when we pass through the living room, but they’re covered in a layer of dust, and I don’t exactly have the time to stop and wipe them clean to snoop. There aren’t any knickknacks lying around, either—not even a book or an unfinished beer on one of the side tables by the couch.
The guest room is just as impersonal, but it’s nicely put together. The blankets on the bed are tucked in neatly, the room doesn’t smell like dust, and there’s even a desk pressedup against one of the walls. A massive window takes up most of one of the other walls, the curtains drawn so I can look out over the expanse of the ranch—the fields of green, the slow-moving cattle, the crystal blue river that runs through the whole property. I must have missed that on the tour earlier.
It’s not my usual scenery, but I’ll admit the sight is breathtaking.
“Bathroom’s across the hall,” Everett says from the doorway. “You can help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. I’ll call Jennifer and figure out how she wants to handle this after I wrap up work.”
It sounds like a dismissal, but I didn’t get to where I am today by being shy, so I paste on a smile and follow him back toward the kitchen.
“Perfect!” I say. “That’ll give me a bit of time to put together some notes. I was thinking that I could probably get some mock-ups done of the website, maybe toss some ideas out for advertising plans.”
Everett grunts in what is definitely supposed to be a dismissal, his shoulders tightening in visible annoyance as I follow him into the kitchen. It looks like it gets some use, at least, although that’s mostly due to the dirty dishes in the sink and the notepad stuck to the fridge with a half finished grocery list on it.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he says as he pulls the fridge open. “Like I said, this whole thing is my daughter’s idea. It’s probably best that you just come back when she gets back into town, but you’ve been too stubborn to listen to me so far. I don’t assume you have interest in starting now, Ms. Bryce?”
“My name is Mary,” I say evenly, arching a brow at him when he scoffs. “I won’t answer to Ms. Bryce. And I have no intention of leaving.”
He glances over his shoulder before shrugging. The microwave beeps as he presses the buttons to heat up whatever leftovers he’s decided on.
“I’ll stick with Ms. Bryce,” he grumbles, “if you’re going to insist on being a thorn in my side.”
I really shouldn’t be thinking about how the muscles in his forearms bulge when he leans back on his hands like that, propping himself up on the counter. The look on his face is almost entirely annoyance, but there’s a bright little glint in his eyes that makes me want to believe he’s actually teasing me right now. My mouth goes dry dry for a moment as my imagination runs wild with entirely inappropriate ideas of him keeping up with this antagonistic act until we both reach the end of our patience with each other.
I’m not used to men like him, and I can’t help but think about what it would be like. All that muscle and rugged attitude?—
Like I said,entirelyinappropriate.
I shake my head slightly in an attempt to knock those thoughts right out of my head. Hopefully I’m not blushing. If I am, he doesn’t say anything.
“I was going to have to stick around to do some research and get a proposal together anyway,” I say when I realize that I haven’t answered him. “You can ask your daughter what she thinks, but I might as well just stay until she gets back. That way, I’ll have everything ready for her to go over and all we’ll have to do is some finetuning.”
He frowns at me, clearly wishing that I’d just get out of his hair. Unfortunately for him, though, I’m like a dog with a bone, and I’ve already got my teeth into this project. It may not have been my first choice, but now that I’m here, I’m going to give it my all. A sigh falls from his lips and he rolls his eyes just before the microwave beeps. I can see his answer before he opens his mouth.
“Fine,” he agrees begrudgingly. “Just stay out of everybody’s way. This time of year is busy.”
He pulls his food from the microwave, and I catch a whiff of what might be chili when he sets it on the counter for a moment. As soon as he gets a spoon from one of the drawers by the stove, he grabs the container again and practically beelines toward the door.
“I’ll give you as much space as I can,” I call after him.
My lips are stretched in a victorious grin, and a little laugh slips out when I hear the door bang shut behind him. I don’t usually lean toward being antagonistic, but I don’t think I could avoid annoying Everett even if I was trying to. He’s just strung so tight, and while it’s just as inappropriate as every appreciative glance I send toward his arms, part of me wants to see him relax for once.
For now, though, lunch does sound good. I don’t have high hopes for the contents of his fridge, but I hope I can find something passable. After I eat, I’ll get to work on organizing what little information I do have, and I’ll do some research on potential clients for the new and improved Black Spruce Ranch.
Today started off shitty—no pun intended—but I feel like I’ve already made a little progress. Everything has to start somewhere.
EVERETT
Mary Bryce from Branded has been on my ranch for three days so far, and she’s steadily driving me more and more insane. I have enough to deal with from my kids—Jennifer keeps hatching schemes to save the ranch, and I drove my son off years ago. I don’t need Mary adding to it.
“Is this the last of the lot for this year?” I ask, as I set another tag in with the pliers.
They’re nasty looking things, basically a hole punch with a spike, but most of the calves hardly even flinch when they get tagged. It’s the handling that they don’t like.
“Tony’s going through the field and double-checking that everyone else is tagged,” Al says. “But this should be everybody.”
He’s leaning against the fence, and while it would look casual to anyone who doesn’t know him, I can tell he’s practically propping himself up. Rough day for him, then, but with how much it’s been raining, I’m not surprised. Walking through the mud is hard on him. I make a mental note to keep him away from anything strenuous today. Maybe I can talk him into making some phone calls I’ve been putting off. He’s more personable than I am, even if he prefers physical labor topaperwork, but it’s a good excuse to keep him in the office and off his feet for the majority of the day.
