“Oh…” she squeaks.
My attention is drawn down to Maisie’s clenched thighs. I avert my gaze to her face to find her lip sucked between her teeth. I’m surprised she hasn’t drawn blood yet. I need to get my ass out of here right now.
I clear my throat, attempting to break the tension. “We’ve established you don’t like coffee. Anything else I should know? This determines if we can be friends or not.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Maisie flinches like I’ve struck her. I’m not even sure she knows she did it. She recovers just as quick, slapping on a forced smile. “You can add certified chocolate hater to your list while you’re at it,friend.” She lays the last word on thick, an even thicker smile to follow.
I didn’t mean for the wordfriendto slip—God knows the things I want to do to this woman are anything but friendly. This is good, though, setting clear boundaries so she knows this can’t go anywhere. Not that I even know if she wants them to, or if she’s even single, but I cannot get involved with this woman under any circumstances.
Not happening.
“Perfect. More for me then,” I say, letting out an awkward laugh.
She gives me a fake smile, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, are we going to do any cowboy shit, or do I get the displeasure of watching you drink that liquid sugar all day?”
I peek down at my coffee, sugar still floating around on top. I can’t help but let out a deep chuckle. It sounds anything but nice, though; it's raw and full of barely there restraint from thoughts of tying her up on my bed all day and teaching her a lesson instead of working. This woman’s mouth is going to get us both into trouble.
I gesture towards the front door. “Lead the way, honey. It’s time you learn how hard cowboys can play.”
maisie
. . .
NINE
I thinkI’m going to puke. I hold in my second gag since entering the barn. I will do anything to limit the intake of horse shit fumes singeing my nose. My stomach heaves, and I slap the back of my hand over my mouth when Gray turns his back to me.
I’ve always been sensitive to certain smells; turns out horse shit is at the top of that list. Not that I would ever let Grayson see how hard I’m struggling to keep my shit together. Grayson doesn’t look fazed in the slightest. Being around this smell all day, I’m sure he doesn’t even notice it anymore.
I’m guzzling down my energy drink in an attempt to ease my stomach when Grayson turns to face me. “Easy there, killer,” he teases. “Don’t want you getting a caffeine high and tapping out early.”
I swallow the last of my drink and toss the can into the garbage. “Don’t worry, cowboy, I’ve been told I have great stamina.”
His eyes flare, his hand fisting at his side. I wait to see what he will banter back, but the fucker turns around, heading for the first stall. “We usually spend mornings mucking the stalls and feeding the horses. I scrubbed them down pretty good yesterday,so they just need a refresh. We let the horses run around out there while cleaning and then we round them up for feeding after.” He points to a fenced enclosure outside the barn.
“Seems easy enough.” I’ve always thought horses were majestic beasts, but they also scare the shit out of me. They spook easily and can be untrusting until you establish a connection. Now that I think about it, they kind of sound like me. If that isn’t ironic, I don’t know what is.
“You ever scooped horse shit before?”
My eyes snap up, landing on his sea green ones. “That’s one way to get a girl's attention,” I mumble under my breath.
Apparently, it wasn’t that quiet, because Grayson’s responding scoff has my pulse thrumming. “I’m here to work, not pick up chicks. That’s what thebaris for. I’m not interested in any relationships right now. Ican’t.”
Ouch. Message received loud and clear, buddy. Now, I’m getting to experience the cold shoulder side of Grayson, night and day to him last night. I can’t keep up with his mood swings. And they say women are dramatic. One minute, he’s whispering filthy things in my ear, and the next, he’s calling me hisfriend.
Grayson breezes on like nothing's happened. “I’m going to take that as a no.” He enters the first stall and opens the door in the back, letting the mare into the outside enclosure.
At some point, a pitchfork looking weapon finds his hands, a wheelbarrow propped next to him. He thrusts the fork at my chest. “This is your new best friend. We use these to muck the stalls. Scoop up the shit and throw it in there.” He points over at the wheelbarrow. “Pretty straightforward. Some ranch hands already did the back half of the barn, so there shouldn’t be too many for you.”
My laugh is humorless. “I think I heard you wrong. You mean forusto do,” I correct him.
“Negative, honey. You’re on shit duty this morning. It’s a rite of passage on the ranch. Call it your initiation,” he says with a bright, toothy smile.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling loudly.Hold your tongue, Maisie. Please, for the love of— “What the fuck are you doing then, huh?” I wish I could say I regret the words, but I don’t. Not even in the slightest.
He points a thumb at himself. My eyes catch on his scabbed-over knuckles. “Me? I’m going over there to organize the tack room, because no matter how many times I ride these cowboys’ asses, they still don’t know how to put their shit away.”
I toss the muck fork back at him, stomping towards the tack room. “I’m great at organization. Perks of having OCD. Well, most of the time,” I laugh awkwardly.
