“A staff?”
“You can’t do this alone. You’ll need people. I’ll get them.”
“I can do things on my own.”
My gaze scours the wrecked farm before landing deliberately back on her. “Of course you can do it alone.”
She hears the sarcasm in my voice, but the only hint that it gets under her skin is when she folds her arms. “Fine. Tell me your rules.”
I lift my finger. “Rule number one—should we write these down?”
“Are there a lot of them?”
“No.”
She taps her temple. “Pretty sure I can remember, even if I do own overalls.”
I tear my eyes away from her smirking mouth. “Okay. Even if you don’t like an idea of mine, we’re still going to try it.”
“But what if—”
“What if,what? It makes you a million dollars?”
She scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Fine. What else?”
“Next rule”—I hold up two fingers—“no piggycorns in the house.”
Her jaw falls. “What? You’re notsleepingin here. What does it matter?”
“I will be working in the home, and those are farm animals. They are not cats or dogs. Or even chinchillas. They are swine, and this is a business. We don’t know how we’ll be using the house yet, and it might come into play.” I create an X with my forearms. “No swine inside.”
She makes a little whimper in the back of her throat. “But what about—”
“No,” I say sharply. “None of them. Not even your favorite. They stay outside while I’m here. In two months, you can do whatever you want. But absolutely no piggycorns inside for the next sixty days. Got it?”
She tips her face to the sky. Moonlight bounces off her features, making her brown hair a silvery gold. “Fine. No piggycorns in the house. You better be all that you’re cracked up to be,” she mutters.
I prowl over, and her eyes flare in surprise as I drop my mouth to her ear. “You have no idea how amazing I am.”
Rowe stiffens, and the air between us electrifies to a crackle. Then she leaps back and scoots away, putting a good five feet between us.
She swallows and her throat bobs. “Any more rules?”
“Just one.”
“And that is?”
I tap my knuckles on the railing. “I’m here to help this farm. Unless I’m doing so because there’s a need, I will, under no circumstances, be asked to feed an animal or perform farm chores.”
“God forbid you do an honest man’s work,” she snarls. “Don’t worry. I’m more than capable of taking care of this farm, and myself.”
“Good. Because I’m not trying to take care of you. I’m trying to take care of me.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Wonderful!” She throws up her arms. “Is that it? Is there anything else you’d like to say, Your Highness, before I show you to your penthouse suite?”
