Chapter 2
Chapter Two
She was late.
Stafford Hill let out a sigh of impatience as he paced back and forth across the living room.
Not only was she late, but now she was sitting out in her car doing God knows what while he waited for her.
Didn’t she know that this was a working ranch? He didn’t have time to wait around while she gave herself a pep talk or put on some lipstick or whatever the heck it was that she was doing.
Nope. This wasn’t going to work.
But you’re desperate, remember? The house is filthy, you’re sick of microwave meals and the old man needs someone to watch him.
His grandfather had run off the last three housekeepers he’d hired and the agency was now refusing to send anyone else out. Leaving Stafford no choice but to advertise.
Unfortunately, only three people applied. This woman was the last candidate and his final hope since the other two hadn’t been suitable.
Finally, there was a knock on the front door. Stafford ignored the dust on the furniture and the faded wallpaper as he stormed toward the door.
He opened it so forcefully that it let out a protesting creak. Everything in this house creaked or groaned. The old girl wasn’t aging gracefully.
Of course, it would help if his grandfather would let him do some updates. But he never let him touch anything when it came to the house or its surrounds. Thankfully, Grandpa Jack couldn’t get out on the ranch anymore or he might have protested all of the improvements that Stafford had made there.
But that was Stafford’s domain.
He stared down at the woman standing on the front porch. Dear Lord.
She was tiny.
Was she even fully grown? He towered over her.
Her caramel-colored hair was a curly mess around her head.
He moved his eyes lower over her black sweater, faded blue jeans, and worn purple boots.
Purple boots?
Had he ever seen purple boots before? She hadn’t really dressed up for her interview, but he guessed that it was better than turning up in heels like the last candidate had.
“You’re late,” he barked. Shit. He hadn’t meant to snap at her but having to wait was annoying.
Stafford hated being idle.
“Wow, your eyes are amazing. Have they always been that blue?” she replied.
Great.
He could tell this wasn’t going to work. This had happened with housekeeper number two. She’d started to pay more attention to him than Grandpa Jack and the house. She’d ‘accidentally’ brush up against him with her breasts almost falling out of her top. She’d keep asking for his help with things that she should have been capable of doing herself.
It had driven him insane.
And then one night he’d walked into his bedroom to find her lying naked in his bed.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Stafford crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What? Why?” she asked as he stepped past her, closing the door behind him.
He strode toward her car. “You can leave now. Thanks for coming.”
“But . . . but . . . what happened?” She caught up to him, her hazel eyes wide with worry. “You didn’t even ask me any questions!”
“I didn’t need to. The last thing I need is to hire another woman who will spend all their time plotting how to get themselves into my bed. I’m looking for a housekeeper and a companion for my grandfather, not a wife, not a girlfriend, not even a quick fuck.”
Wow. When she blushed, it wasn’t just her cheeks that went red it was her entire face and neck. He guessed that she’d slink off in embarrassment now. And good riddance. He had other things to do.
“You . . . I . . . what? How presumptuous of you!”
What?
“Just because I made a comment on your eyes, you think that I . . . that I want to . . .” She straightened her shoulders. “Well, I’m going to leave now because this is not going to work.”
“That’s what I just said. Wait! Why do you think it’s not going to work?” He moved to block her from getting in her car.
“Because you just made a huge, incredibly insulting assumption about me!” she told him.
He had?
“So you commenting on my eyes wasn’t you coming on to me?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed, and he suddenly realized that she wasn’t red with embarrassment . . . nope, that was all anger on her face.
Shit.
He’d really fucked this up, hadn’t he?
“Do women really come on to you in the first minute of meeting you?” she asked.
They used to. Before he turned into an overworked, grumpy old bastard.
“Umm.”
“Don’t answer that,” she said hastily. She folded her arms, then winced and dropped her hands to her sides.
Why was she wearing gloves?
Were they the reason she’d winced? Were they compression gloves? How could she do this job if she had sore hands?
“I don’t want to know,” she added. “What I can tell you is that I was not coming on to you. I was just commenting on your eyes. They’re amazing and I know it was inappropriate and I apologize for that. But you were rude!”
He found himself holding back a smile. He wouldn’t have been shocked if she’d started to stomp her foot to emphasize her point. She had spirit. And a bit of a temper. But those things didn’t put him off.
She was going to need some grit if she was going to go head to head with Grandpa Jack.
“Now, if you’ll just get out of my way, I’ll leave.”
Yep, definitely some temper there. And pride, he was guessing too. Because it was more than obvious that she needed this job. Her car had seen better days. So had her clothes.
“No,” he stated.
“Move aside.”
“Nope.”
“Well, why not?” She put her hands on her hips, then grimaced and lowered them.
“What’s wrong with your hands?” he demanded.
“Nothing is wrong with them,” she replied.
Clearly a lie.
He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t like being lied to.”
“Well, I don’t like being held against my will.”
Shit. What was he doing? He stepped away from the door of her car and a hint of relief filled her face.
Fuck. He was being a complete asshole. Not only had he accused her of coming on to him for commenting on his eyes, and he knew his eyes were unusual, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t had those remarks from strangers before, but now he was basically holding her here against her will.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gruffly.
She was reaching for the car door handle when she paused and glanced up at him. “What?”
“Sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to. It’s just . . . one of the housekeepers I hired started paying me more attention than my grandfather and one night I walked into my bed to find her in it. Naked.”
“Whoa. Seriously?” she asked.
“Yes. So when you mentioned my eyes —”
“You thought I wanted to climb naked into your bed? I told the lady at the coffee shop yesterday that she had beautiful hair, but I didn’t end up in her bed.”
He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I might have overreacted. I apologize. I’m Stafford Hill, by the way.”
“Um, it’s okay. I guess. I’m Blakely Ellis.”
“Will you stay? Meet my grandfather?”
“I suppose I could.”