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Restless by about six a.m., she looked out the back door toward the barns. She’d rather have something to do than sit here, but everything was still dark so she returned to the living room and turned on the TV to watch the morning news.
During the weather forecast, she realized she didn’t need to wait for anyone to start feeding the horses. She knew what she was doing now.
After writing a note for Noah, she went out to begin her day.
****
Colton shifted his old Chevy into low gear for the winding climb up the mountain roads to the ranch. He was itching to see if Kendra showed up for a couple hours work before leaving with Britt at ten to go shopping. He actually hoped she didn’t, the extra ammunition to combat his ir
ritating attraction would be welcome.
His gaze flicked to the small pair of butter-soft, tan leather gloves lying on the passenger seat. Even they annoyed him. He never should’ve bought them, and he’d changed his mind a dozen times about giving them to her.
He rationalized that the gloves were simply a way to apologize for working her so hard yesterday and then scaring her with Paelo. A split second later he wondered why even bother? Hadn’t he already told her he didn’t plan to be nice?
Besides, he knew Britt planned to get her a pair today while they were shopping—while she spent money that the Morgans naively advanced to her. The scheming woman had been on the property less than two days and by the third she’d have cash and keys. His plan to make sure she didn’t worm her way into his friends’ lives too quickly was too slow for her pedal-to-the-metal action.
Last night he’d almost told Joel the truth. Still wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t, which only contributed to his foul mood.
A sudden thought occurred to him, but he pushed it away immediately. Refused to entertain it the moment it solidified in his brain. His decision not to speak to Joel had nothing to do with his attraction to the thief.
Forewarned is forearmed.
Another quote his father used to love to spout.
He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers on the wheel. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with, the tangent thought of his father distracted him with new worries. The bills had come in from his father’s most recent hospitalization and were much higher than he’d expected. He hadn’t shown them to his mom because she already carried enough guilt about him having to scrap his college plans. If only she knew where the guilt really lay—not that he’d ever tell her. It was his burden to carry. His penance.
And now, if she knew he planned to use his personal savings for the bills, she’d have a fit. Especially since she’d insisted from day one that he put something away for himself—for when things got easier and he could attend college.
College. He hadn’t told her about that, either. Yale was his dream of the past. Now he wanted what Joel and Britt had. He’d learned from them. What they couldn’t teach him, he’d learned on his own, any way he could. He figured he knew pretty darn near everything Yale would’ve taught him and more, evidenced by the fact that his small investment portfolio had been growing ever since he’d fired his broker and started to manage it himself.
But when the additional bills arrived yesterday, and he’d looked from the positive statement to the exorbitant debt, it didn’t take long for reality to set in. At the rate he was going, he’d have enough to buy his own ranch round about his ninetieth birthday. It made more sense to put the money towards his father’s care. Besides, the new dream was just that, nice to think about, but a dream nonetheless.
He steered around the last curve in the driveway and saw the main house lights were on, one of the barns was lit, but the guesthouse remained dark. A small thrill of satisfaction refocused his attention. Looked like he’d get the draw on the sneaky city chick before the showdown even began.
He slowed to a stop outside the guesthouse, glancing at the barn out of habit as he began to shift into park. One glimpse of a small, dark-haired figure moving down the bright aisle with a wheelbarrow shot his delight all to hell.
He jammed the car back into first, grinding the gears bad enough to make him wince. The car jumped forward, and he slid to a stop in his regular parking spot. He started to get out, then hesitated with a hand above the gloves. With an irritated sound, he snatched them up and slammed his car door while stuffing them into his back pocket.
As he strode down the aisle, he briefly paused at the sound of her voice, low and soothing, as she spoke to the horse she’d just fed. When he caught sight of her, his step faltered. How the hell was he supposed to keep an eye on her all day when she looked like that?
On second thought, keeping both eyes on her wouldn’t be the problem.
Her hair was braided, quite practically, not like yesterday when it’d flowed about her face and shoulders in wild abandon. At least that wouldn’t distract him. However, a baby-doll white T-shirt paired with her low-riding fancy label jeans was enough to distract even the Pope. The unbuttoned blue shirt she wore over them didn’t conceal near enough.
She reached up and ran her hand along the horse’s neck. A strip of bare skin at her waist caught his eye, along with a flash of sparkle. He squinted. Aw, hell. He might as well just throw in the towel right now. As if the bare skin wasn’t enough, the gol’ darn little thief had her navel pierced. Even more startling was how sexy he found the little gem. He’d seen his share of girls with them, but this was the first he’d ever liked one—he’d never cared for body piercings beyond the ears.
She glanced up and caught him staring. Disconcerted with the physical attraction that wouldn’t leave him the hell alone, Colton clenched his jaw and his fists, and spun on his heel to stalk toward his office.
“Hi to you, too.”
Her sarcastic words carried distinctly above the sliding of the stall door. Colton took a deep breath and turned back. He caught up with her at the next stall. Caught sight of her navel again—because he couldn’t help but look.
“There’s a schedule for a reason,” he growled. “Feed at seven, no earlier, no later.”
She hesitated. He saw her jaw work as if she were biting back a retort. Then she dropped her hand from the stall’s door latch with a discouraged sigh.
Her shoulders sagged, and she murmured, “I didn’t know.”
