I can’t stop staring. I can barely keep myself from drooling at this point.
Is that normal?No.Healthy?Fuck no.
“Sorry—” His hand hovers in the space between me and McCrae, and my own trembles at my side, some invisible electrical current pulling us together. I don’t understand it, and I definitely don’t like it. “My name’s Santos. I’m actually currently between jobs, but I’m a hard worker. I don’t have a place to live right now, so if you’d consider trading labor for room and board, I’d love to help.”
“Know anything about ranching?” McCrae bites out the question.Is that jealousy in his voice?
I can’t actually be considering hiring a man I just met, not after we still don’t know who shot at us. I can’t—I won’t.
The guy smirks—a panty melting, should be illegal in every country twist of his lips—before facing me fully, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t. But I’m motivated and good with my hands.”
I shouldn’t even allow the thought to form, but?—
McCrae speaks before I have a chance. “Not interested. Better luck finding somewhere else to use your hands.”
“McCrae…” I don’t know why I’m defending the stranger. Must be his devilish looks and the fact that McCrae’s jealous for the first time since I’ve met him.
It can’t be because I’m attracted to him. That would be beyond pathetic.
McCrae looks at me, shocked. “Two seconds ago, you didn’t want help.”
“And you said we needed the help regardless. He seems like he could be helpful.”
“You don’t even know him.” McCrae’s voice rises, his irritation growing. I nearly preen like a cat who got the cream—he’s truly jealous.
I remain nonchalant instead. “I didn’t know you when I met you either, McCrae. But I’ve got good instincts.” I extend my hand toward the stranger, eager to feel the heat of McCrae’s ire. “Santos, I’m Valentina. You’re hired.”
But when Santos’ hand swallows mine, it’s not McCrae’s heat that threatens to burn me alive.
Blending into the shadows of the hallway, my heart a steady drum in my throat, I watch McCrae, watch Santos.How did I go from alone this morning to living in on this ranch with not one, but two devilishly handsome men?
I could have worse problems. Someone could be out there, still waiting to shoot me.
Oh, wait.
Santos walks around the perimeter of the kitchen, his fingers skimming the surfaces with a mix of awe and well-hidden anger—I’d miss it if I wasn’t so attuned at reading people. I’ve made it my entire life to read people, to sense their moods and prepare for the worst before it happens.
I shouldn’t trust the stranger—there’s something dark and forbidden about him, a secret wrapped in a pretty present, but I can’t help but feel called to him too. Not the way I am with McCrae.
McCrae’s sturdy and safe and never yielding.
This stranger,Santos,is everything McCrae isn't. Wild, passionate, desperate and vast and violent—he’s adventure and danger and adrenaline. He’s everything I’ve always protected myself against.
“Why are you out of a job and out of a house?” McCrae doesn’t bother with niceties, and I reluctantly smile.
Santos shrugs, not bothering to look at McCrae as he slowly prowls. “I lost it.”
“Do you have family around here? Why don’t you stay with them?”
Santos tenses, and there’s a flash of unrestricted anger in his eyes that’s quickly smothered. “They’re gone. Spread out from here to the coast.”
McCrae chews on the corner of his mustache before asking, “Is that where you’re headed?”
Instead of answering, Santos finally looks at McCrae, his eyes landing on his injured shoulder. “What happened to you?”
“I was shot.”
“Why?”
