“Sounds great,” Max answers. “The vet will meet us at the barn and can preg-check your heifers too.”
“Are you going to let him do this?” I ask Max, completely miffed that they’re discussing business while my husband carries me out of the house like a giant burrito.
“Yep.” He even smiles as he says it.
“This is ridiculous,” I grumble as I try to wriggle out of Zane’s iron grip. How dare he come in here with his big muscles and literally carry me out of the house. I don’t want to be in his arms. Because when I’m close to him, I remember how attracted to him I am. And right now, I just want to be mad.
“Don’t do that. I don’t want to drop you.”
“Then put me down!”
“Not a chance.”
Max, the dirty traitor, even opens the front door for Zane.
Zane turns sideways and steps out onto the porch. I expect him to carry me to my truck, but instead, he walks straight to his. He adjusts his hold on me, lifting me higher, and my forehead brushes against his cheek.
“We’re going home. You don’t get to run from this.”
“I’m not running fromthis.” I sniff. “I’m running from you.”
“Why? What did I do?” He actually sounds surprised, which only annoys me more.
“You know what you did.”
“No, I really don’t,” he says as he swings open the truck door and sets me down in the passenger seat.
“We can’t just leave my truck here.”
“I’ll bring you back to get it in the morning.” He slams the door on any of my protests.
If I wasn’t stuck in this blanket, I might think about resorting to violence.
Zane opens his door and climbs into the truck. “All right. Do you want to know why I’m mad?”
“No. I really don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t!” I shoot back.
“Your eyebrows rise every time you lie.”
“What?” I reach a hand up and touch my eyebrows. There’s no way I have such an obvious tell.
“Yes. It’s how I know you didn’t like the pasta sauce I made the other night.”
“I loved it,” I reply, determined to lie without a giveaway.
“Your eyebrows went up.” Zane grins and leans toward me. He grabs the buckle and pulls it around my blanket-wrapped self. He clicks it into the lock but doesn’t move back immediately.
I slowly lift my chin, wary of meeting his gaze.
It’s as bad as I feared. He’s looking right at me with those piercing blue eyes.
He has a light shadow of growth on his face from the day, and he smells good even though he’s been working all day. The man has the decency to own a bottle of cologne and knows how to use it.
I take a slow, deliberate sniff, hoping he won’t notice.
