“Thank you for the ride, Tanner,” Tilly says, wiggling her fingers at him when he reaches for the truck door.
The pleased smile he flashes her has me kicking off the stable, stalking away from them. Inside, I fill my lungs with the scent of horses and remind myself that she’s doing this on purpose. If I give her a reaction, she’ll get worse, spurred on.
If she wants to fuck her way through my ranch, she can. God help the men who she lets crawl into her bed at night. They’ll lose themselves and wind up chasing her tail for so much as a pitiful grin.
“You’re lucky my father didn’t bother coming out here to talk to you himself,” I bite out when boots hit the aisle behind me.
“Oh, because you’resomuch better. I’m one lucky girl.”
The grooming stall is open, unused and clean behind her. I don’t know or care who found the time to get it ready after the old groomer left. All that matters is that I make it clear which horses she’s supposed to touch and which she isn’t.
“You don’t go near Diesel,” I say, my tone final. “I do his grooming myself.”
“Really? He loves me.”
Twisting to face her, I cross my arms. “Yeah, really. The last thing he needs is to get used to your presence again.”
“He’s a horse, Rowe. Not a young one either. He’s met plenty of people who haven’t stayed around forever.”
I trample down my immediate response, hiding it with another. “You weren’t a random face to him. He shouldn’t have been alone.”
“Alone?” Her eyes fill with realization a second later. “Don’t put that on me. I wasn’t the one who went to prison.”
“And what’s the reason behind me going, Tilly?”
She doesn’t look away. If anything, my question ticks her off enough that she stares harder, those deep green eyes unyielding. There’s an intense feeling of rage flaring between us, pacing as we stand off. I can hear Diesel chuffing in his stall, his head no doubt pressing against the metal bars like I’ll turn to look at him if he makes enough noise.
“Stop throwing that in my face. You’re starting to really piss me off,” I warn, my voice like gravel.
Her spine snaps straight. “You don’t get to take the moral high ground here. Nobody forced you to do what you did. I sure as shit didn’t ask you to.”
“I know. I’ve had a decade to get that through my thick skull. You’ve never had a problem with moving on, hellcat. Don’t start caring about the past now.”
The flare of her nostrils shouldn’t excite me. Yet, here I am, almost buzzing from the anticipation of her sharp tongue. She lowers her gaze to my chest, to where I know the top two buttons of my shirt are undone. I don’t have a fucking clue what exactly she’s looking for there, and I don’t care. The colourful designs I wear on my skin can entertain her for as long as she wants to stare. They weren’t there before I went to prison, and she won’t be seeing anything more than what I’ve already got on display.
She can have fun with her imagination.
“Do you have a list of the horses’ names for me?”
I almost don’t hear her.
“What?”
“Is there a list of the horses’ names?” she repeats herself, blinking at me as if I’m just an idiot who didn’t understand the question when she first asked it. “So I know which I’m working with and when.”
“It’s at the house,” I lie.
She dips her chin, turning without another word. I shoot one foot forward like I’m going to follow before stopping myself and bringing it back.
“The mare in the last pen hasn’t had a good brushing in days. Start there,” I demand roughly.
That makes her pause. “Is that an order?”
“My father put you on me. I didn’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”
Her bitter laugh crackles through the stable. Her honey-blonde braid swings behind her back when she twists and arches a brow at me. “Well, did you tell him how terrible having to be around me would be for you?”
“Do you think he gave a shit?”
