CHAPTER 8
Perhaps pissing off the broody cowboy isn’t in my best interest. I just can’t help it.
“He’s a real mean one,” The deep drawl catches my attention, and I flick my eyes as Knox’s friend ambles over on the back of a chestnut mare, his hat pulled low to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun.
Red hair curls out from beneath his hat and freckles cover his face, his eyes the color of the leaves when they first bud in spring.
He’s an attractive man, broad shoulders, thick arms and a great smile, but there’s something lacking.
“How I like them,” I reply, giving my attention to the bull making an awful lot of noise in the paddock's corner, facing the herd a few fences over.
“Figures,” The man replies with a smirk.
“Is that so?” The noise from the bull stops and subtly, I see his head cock a little, toward me.
“Hanging around with a man like my boss shows the commitment.”
I scoff out loud. “Knox is child’s play.”
At this, I get a loud, boyish laugh and when I look at him, his head is tipped back, the laugh sounding right from his gut. “I’m sure he’d love to know that.”
I lift the bottle of whiskey to my lips and take a sip.
The weak as fuck painkillers I found in the house have done nothing for the pain in my body, but alcohol certainly helps.
Numbs the rage inside me too, enough to keep me planted here and not hitch hiking my way back to the city to kill them all.
I’m not stupid enough to believe I’ll win without a plan.
A plan I still haven’t figured out.
“I’m Chase.” He leans against the horse and reaches down to give me his hand in greeting. I entertain him and shake it.
“Elena.”
“So what brings you to Sierra Valley, Elena?”
“Seemed like a great place to hide.” Pushing away from the fence, I start back toward the house.
Chase falls into step with his horse at my side. “That all?” He presses.
“Anyone ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?”
“But satisfaction brought it back,” He throws me a charming grin that I have no doubt has worked many, many times before.
He brings his horse to a stop as I get closer to the house, but his eyes remain on me as I step up onto the porch and pull the door open, Judge getting up from his spot to follow me inside.
I hear Knox slamming around in the kitchen, and I know my presence will only serve to piss him off even more than he already is.
It shouldn’t thrill me the way it does, especially since the deal we made is tenuous at best. He could very well kick me out any minute or kill me and bury me in an unmarked grave somewhere on the property.
But after dealing with treacherous men my whole life, almost dying because of them has left me with little fucks to give.
He’s fixing himself a coffee when I head through, Judge on my heels and I place the bottle of whiskey down on the table.
Getting into the office after he locked it was easy.
These locks are old and all it took was a paperclip I found in the drawer in the kitchen.
He shouldn’t be so mad; I locked it up after I was done.
“I’m setting rules,” He grumbles, keeping his back to me, the grip he has on his mug tight enough the skin across his knuckles is white.
I grin at his spine. “And what will they be?”
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Elena,” He turns to me, a muscle ticking in his jaw, “This is my fucking ranch, my fucking house and right now, I’m doing you a favor.”
“I gave you my word.” My eyes narrow.
“Your word means shit to me, De Luca,” He snaps out.
I suck my tongue against my teeth. I know when to shut up and listen when needed. Now it is needed.
“Number one, stop going into my fucking office.” He opens a cupboard. “You want a drink? Take it from here. Two, you will start helping on the ranch, but only when you have clothes to wear. I don’t need my workers distracted by you.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault men don’t know how to control themselves.” I lean my hip against the edge of the table to take the weight off my leg, the limb throbbing.
“Three,” He grits out, “Sleep in your own bed.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look he throws my way has my teeth snapping together.
“Four, do not fucking walk in on me in the shower.”
Okay, that’s fair.
“Is that all?”
“Don’t push me, Elena.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I hear you, cowboy.”
“Fine,” He grunts and picks up the piece of paper I wrote all my sizes down on earlier, “I’m going into town. Don’t touch my shit and stay inside the house for fuck’s sake.”
“Yes, sir,” I nod sharply.
His nostrils flare but then his eyes do a run down me and I swear I feel them, like a physical touch. I don’t care what he says or how he denies it. He finds me attractive, and he hates it.
I don’t blame it. If he were the reason my whole life was up in smoke, I’d hate it too.
Watching him leave through the kitchen window, he walks like the very ground has wronged him, stern and heavy, his shoulders tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
He unlocks his black ’87 chevy, the truck old but clearly looked after.
Gravel and dust kick up from the back tires as he puts his foot on the pedal and peels down the long drive, disappearing over a crest of a hill, but plumes of dust remain hanging in the air in his wake.
I’ll start on a plan soon; I have an inclination of what to do but there’s moving parts I need to oil and old contacts I need to figure out a way of getting hold of.
A full war is on the horizon, and losing is not an option.