He grinned like he had won something. “If you’re looking for a chore to pitch in on, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Apparently, part of the allure of staying at a dude ranch was learning how to be a real cowboy. I got the appeal…sort of…but I wasn’t spending a second morewith this douche canoe than I had to. I held out a sandaled foot. “I’ll have to pass, I’m afraid. Wrong footwear for the job.”
He looked down at my feet and chuckled. “Next time, then. Come find me when you’re ready to be a real cowgirl. I’ll show you how to save a horse.” He winked and tapped the brim of his hat.
Gross.
“Sure thing,” I lied brightly, like I was just a dumb city girl who had never heard the phraseSave a horse, ride a cowboy.
I let my smile fade as he walked past me down the main drag, still squeezing the stall door to ease my frustration. Nothing he had said was overtly sexual or threatening. If I complained, they’d tell me I was overreacting or being too sensitive. But his body language and the look in his eye…He’dwantedto make me uncomfortable. And he’d succeeded.
His footsteps faded. He was almost gone?—
“Hey, Jay.”
“Brian.”
I whipped around and my gaze collided with Jeremiah’s. How long had he been standing there? He faced me close enough to have heard every word, his blue-gray eyes stormier than ever as he studied me, one large hand on Brian’s chest to waylay him as they stood shoulder to shoulder. Then all I saw was his profile as heturned his face to Brian, lips moving. Whatever he said was too low for me to hear, but Brian’s spine snapped straight and his head jerked. Jeremiah’s fingers curled over his shoulder, and he gave him a little shake. Brian nodded.
I didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t invested in the little drama as they parted. Brian disappeared into the sunshine without looking back. Jeremiah paused, hands on hips, like he was thinking about following him, but then shook his head and looked at me. We kept our eyes on each other as he approached.
“Anything you want to say?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said, popping the p.
His lips parted like he was going to argue, but then he shook his head again. “If you change your mind?—”
“It’s fine. Nothing happened that I can’t handle.”
One hand went to his belt, the other hooked onto the back of his neck. He frowned down at me. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“There are a lot of shouldn’ts in this world, Jeremiah. People shouldn’t have to go hungry or homeless. People shouldn’t have kids they can’t love or care for. People shouldn’t steal or murder.” He made a scoffing sound and looked away. “Honestly, shouldn’t is boring. So unless you have a solution for all those shouldn’ts, I’m going to focus oncan. Icanrefuse to let the big cowboy with the small mind live rent-free in my brain. Icanlet the little things go. Or Icanmake him an extra-specialbatch of laxative cookies.” I shrugged. “There aresomany options here.”
Theshockon his face. “No. You can’t.”
I laughed. “I think you mean Ishouldn’tbecause I assure you, I absolutely can.Shouldn’tis notcan’t. Life is a lot more fun when you don’t confuse the two.”
“Giving a man the shits is not my idea of fun.” Arms crossed, he glowered down at me with stern disapproval.
I held up my hands. “What can I say? Twenty-nine years of sharing a planet with your species has broadened my horizons. Laxative cookies are absolutely my idea of fun. I mean, justimagineit.”
His gaze went sideways and his chin tipped. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, but not before I saw his lips twitch. Oh, he was imagining it, all right.
“Lennon.” He speared his fingers through his hair and tugged. I’d only been here two days, but I seemed to have that effect on him a lot. “I don’t want to have to ban you from the kitchen. Can I trust you to behave?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I said cheerfully.
He studied me, then shook his head. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess I knew that.”
I smirked. Of course I wasn’t going to poison Brian. Why did it feel so good to push Jeremiah’s buttons? Maybe the jet lag had throttled my filter. I had a talent for making people like me—men and women—but Jeremiah wasn’t paying me for my time. I could saywhatever I wanted. I couldbewhoever I wanted. He could fuck off if he didn’t like it.
But he didn’t fuck off.
And I suspected that meant maybe he did like it. That he likedme, against his better judgment. Because he sure as hell didn’t trust me.
That didn’t bother me, either.
Trust was overrated. The only person who would never let you down was yourself.
