‘Because my supervisor didn’t like me.Said I had to earn my stripes first.’She huffed, squaring up her shoulders.She didn’t want to tell him that her old sergeant held a grudge against her because of her family’s name.He’d actually told her so, and she’d never stuck around to find out why.
‘But I know my horses.And growing up on a sheep station, I’ve dealt with shearers, stock agents, and auctions.I’ve got a licence to drive trucks, tractors, forklifts—and have been driving them since I was a kid.’
‘Homeschooling?Like most of the kids out here?’
‘Um… A governess, then boarding school.’
‘I bet you went to the best in the country.’
She shrugged as she glanced around, taking in the dust and heat pressing down on them.‘I’m not fragile, Porter.I do have a farming background.It’s just… different up here.’Rougher.Hotter.More remote than anything she’d ever imagined.
‘And so the snobby attitude comes from private school, and those polo events with the fancy hats and champagne?’He pointed to her pink stockman’s hat.
‘Can we just stick to one story at a time?’The hurt in her voice was clearer than she’d intended, echoing along the deep verandah.
That was two stories she didn’t want to share.
He took a step back, hands sliding into his pockets, as his voice dropped considerably.It was almost tender.‘Sure, Amara.’
He’d actually spoken her name.
It was enough for her to take a deep, calming breath, even if she wanted to puke from sharing too much already.But it also felt silly as she explained, ‘I told Finn that if he called me Constable all the time, it would keep that level of professionalism, and I would call himsir.’
Porter tilted his head.‘Is that to stop tongues wagging over Finn having a young female as his offsider?’
‘And Finn said he would not be my babysitter—especially on the road.’
‘Ha!’
She scowled at him.Because she had been playing the role of Finn’s babysitter these past few weeks.
‘So…’ Remembering to play nice, she gave a meek shoulder shrug.‘Did it work?Having Finn call me Constable?’
Porter gazed up at the sky, hands on hips, as if pondering the world’s problems.His profile was strong, manly, with a little shade from not shaving along his jaw.His hair—clipped short, yet somehow messy on top—suited his whole casual persona, which was irritatingly charming, and somewhat attractive.
Just not to her.
Then he shared that lazy smile, while locking those eyes on her, giving the impression that perhaps he was a lot smarter than she’d realised.‘I believe it has.’
‘Good.’She gave him a curt nod, forcing down the growing pull she felt for this guy.
He’d already failed three points on her Not-to-Love List, plus she worked with him—and she was only here for the horse.
She did not need to complicate things.
Porter placed her last box down by the wall.‘So, how about we make a start fixing up those stables?’
And for the first time, she started to believe this housing arrangement might actually work.And smiled at him.‘I’d like that very much.’
Eight
Porter shoved open the side door of the large living room and kicked off his boots with a tired grunt.He’d just pulled a night shift, running on caffeine and habit, so instead of unpacking his new man cave, all he wanted was a cold beer, a shower, and a few hours of shut-eye.
At least that was the plan.
Three days.That’s how long he’d managed to avoid the woman living under the same roof.Time spent fixing up her stables during the day, while dodging his new housemate like it was a tactical operation.
Checking that the hallway door was still closed to not disturb his housemate, he flicked on the kitchen light.
