She hugs herself, wrapped in her black, fleece-lined Carhartt jacket as I open first one, then the other bottle.
“You cold?”
“A little,” she says, pressing her shoulder into mine. “But the house is too warm.”
I nod. Somehow I get it.
“What you did back there at the feed store?—”
I frown.
Her eyes flick to my mouth, and heat pools in my chest.
“What you did at the feed store was dumb and reckless.”
I laugh in disbelief, taking a swig of beer. Then another. “No, whatyoudid was.”
“Me?” she challenges, lifting an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Picking a fight with your old ranch hand. Then, counting on me to do the punching,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t make you do anything.”
“You did. The moment he laid a hand on you. It was done. Over.”
“Because you’re a macho asshole? Or because it was me?”
I sit back as she turns toward me. Her chin trembles slightly, still coming off the adrenaline. But her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip, and all that heat in my chest curls lower. Much lower.
“Yeah, because I’m a macho asshole.”
She shoves her beer bottle into my chest, chin raising defiantly. “I don’t think so.”
“Doesn’t matter what you think. Matter’s what’s true.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
She jumps to her feet, and I follow. Her breath hitches in her throat as I realize we’re way too close for employees and employers. Her mouth works like she’s trying to find the right words. But I’m too lost in her sandalwood and rosebud fragrance to process words.
“Asshole,” she repeats, like a defense.
“Yeah. Yours. And I’d do it again.”
Her mouth forms a little O.
Shivers of desire dance down my spine. “Though I don’t appreciate being drug into your fights.”
“You’ll leave, then,” she says. “Like they all do.”
“Like who does?”
“Every man who’s worked this ranch with me. They all ran from the fight.”
I draw closer, anger humming in my chest. “I have never run from a fight. But I refuse to be pulled into an ambush.”
“Are you accusing me of manipulating what happened at the feed store?” She stands on her tiptoes, our lips inches apart.
“Of course, I am. Because that’s what youdid.” My eyes can’t stay off her mouth.
“I went there to relay a message, not start a ranch hand brawl.”
