Before he could ask her what she meant, they took off fast, and he had to wrap his good arm around her waist to avoid being thrown from the four-wheeler. He wondered momentarilywhether she had done it on purpose, knowing he would have to hang on tightly to her, but he quickly wrote the idea off. She didn’t seem that devious a person. On the contrary, she seemed overly honest and trusting. If he’d wanted to, he was pretty sure he could have pulled a similar move on her, and she would be none the wiser. But he wouldn’t do that, of course. This was a professional relationship, and he intended to keep it that way. Even so, he couldn’t help thinking that it felt unreasonably good to put an arm around her waist and pull her back against him.
Several days later,Kyra asked permission to paint her apartment. Since Adam had already decided he wasn’t going to hire anybody else, he didn’t see the harm. He assumed she wanted to paint the interior walls. That assumption was dead wrong, but he didn’t realize how wrong it was until she had already started the project. By the time he noticed that she meant to paint the outside of her apartment, she had already done exterior repairs and applied a coat of primer.
He stood watching her for a while before she noticed his presence. She was working hard, wiping sweat from the back of her neck with a cloth handkerchief and dripping primer all over herself. After he’d had his fill of observation, he said, “I thought you were going to paint the wallsinside.”
She whirled around on the spot and stared at him, wide-eyed. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” he lied.
She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly doubting his answer, but she didn’t bother accusing him. “Well, I guess I apologize for the misunderstanding. Did you… want me to stop?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The building needed some maintenance anyway. As long as I didn’t pay for the paint.”
“Nope. I paid for it all by myself.” She straightened up, tall and proud, and he immediately felt heat creeping up his spine.
It was vital that he escape the situation immediately before he started visibly blushing. “Well, carry on then, I guess. I don’t need any more help this evening, so you can paint to your heart’s content.”
“Thanks, boss.” She gave him an adorably incorrect salute, and he had to turn away from her because his face was two seconds from becoming a full-on stoplight.
All evening, he focused on work and more work. He went to bed that night without bothering to say goodnight to her. He seemed to be getting drunk on the sight of her, and he didn’t trust himself to stay sober in her presence. Maybe hiring an attractive woman wasn’t a good idea after all. Or maybe he was just tired and needed a good night’s sleep. He chose to believe the latter. It was far too late to address the former anyway, not without looking like a complete jerk, although he was used to looking like a partial jerk.
Why did he care what Kyra thought of him anyway? Not caring what people thought of him was one of his favorite personal traits. He didn’t have very many favorite personal traits, so he had to treasure the ones he did have. That did it. Decision made. He would force himself to stop caring and stop staring. He was going to be professional and not lose control of the situation.
She was already up feeding the horses the next morning, and he did a marvelous job ignoring her. But later that afternoon, when he went to collect her from her lunch break, he found that she had finished applying the first coat of paint. And it was bright yellow. All he could do was stand there and blink at it.
She stepped out of the apartment and noticed him. “Do you like it?” she asked. “I thought it would brighten the place up a bit. Add a little sunshine, you know.” She seemed unreasonably pleased with her choice of colors.
“Is this a ranch, or is it a daycare?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kyra appeared to think about it for a moment. Then she answered, “It’s a daycare for animals?”
“Nice try, but no. You’re not weaseling your way out of this one. What could have possessed you to choose a color like this?”
She shrugged. “I like it.”
“So, you weren’t trying to make it hostile to potential future hands I might hire to replace you?”
“Hm.” She leaned on the doorframe and thought a moment. “I like that answer better,” she concluded at last. “Makes me sound like some kind of evil genius. Scratch my last answer and replace it with that one.” She grinned. “But come on. It’s called daffodil. You can’t hate daffodils, can you?”
“Please, say the trim isn’t going to be orange.”
“The trim isn’t going to be orange,” she said in a flat, obedient tone.
“Are you saying that because it’s true, or because I told you to say it?” he asked, suddenly suspicious again.
Kyra burst out laughing. “It’s true, it’s true! I swear it’s true. I was thinking white trim would be nice. What do you think?”
He glowered at her but eventually nodded. “At least it isn’t pink.”
She bit her lower lip and looked mischievous all of a sudden. “Now you’re giving me ideas. Does the barn need a paint job, too?”
“No,” he barked, pointing a finger at her. “Bad hired hand. No pink barns.”
“Chartreuse?” she offered.
“We’ll talk,” he said with a stern expression. “Now let’s go. Josie, Midnight, and Domino need their cake.”
All of a sudden she burst out laughing. “You remembered them!” she cried. “I didn’t think you would. Does that mean you like the names?”
