CHAPTER FOUR
I angle my screen higher, but Bandit’s large head is still cut off. The palomino stands patiently while I attempt to fit us in the frame for a picture. No such luck. As it turns out, I haven’t perfected the skill of snapping a selfie with a horse. Bianca will appreciate an update regardless.
“You’re off to a productive start. Why am I not surprised?”
A gasp rips from me as I whirl to confront the gruff voice. My phone almost drops into a pile of manure from the abrupt motion, but I barely notice the bobble. Not while Brody Benson is leaning on the paddock gate, glaring at me. I gulp at the sudden dryness in my throat.
“Um, hi. I didn’t see you there.”
“Wonder why,” he deadpans. “Is this what I can expect from your work ethic?”
I blink at the snark in his tone. “Is everything okay?”
“You tell me. ”
“I’m fine. You’re the one…” I trail off and gesture at his surly expression.
Brody’s scowl deepens into a sharp point that punctures my confidence. “This is what you get for slacking off while on the clock.”
I’m shocked silent by his obvious irritation. “Slacking off?”
“What would you call it?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“You’re not getting paid to be a photographer.”
The smile I give him is honey slathered on a thorn bush. “It won’t break the bank if I take a quick pic. Bianca approves of my methods. You can trust me too.”
“I’d rather eat horseshit.”
In a fluid motion, he hops the fence and lands in the dirt. The loss of the barrier between us feels detrimental. I’m an open target as he stalks toward me. Brody’s stride is a lethal prowl, like a predator hunting the stench of weakness. Nerves punch my stomach the closer he gets. We’ve only been alone on one other occasion and that didn’t end well.
But that previous stumble doesn’t register in this moment. I’m too preoccupied by his steady approach, and the fantasy he represents. It’s no secret I’ve always been attracted to cowboys. Brody turns that general interest into a specific point.
The shade from his straw hat does little to conceal his devastating features. I almost choke on my tongue. My ovaries are singing hallelujah and ready to spit out eggs like a firing squad, which is wrong on so many levels.
But damn, he’s sexy. Such a manly man. The complete opposite of those sorry excuses for masculinity who parade around rodeo chutes after just sprouting their first chest hair. Don’t even get me started on his Wranglers. Brody is distinguished and chiseled and striking and… I’m staring. He notices my blatant ogling, which sets fire to my cheeks.
“Aren’t you hot?” I blurt.
His eyes smolder into green flames. “Excuse me?”
“I’m hot just looking at you.”
“And now you’re hitting on me,” he mutters under his breath. “This just keeps getting better.”
“What? No.” My cackle is shrill. “You’re wearing long sleeves and it’s almost ninety degrees. I’d be sweltering in that shirt.”
“My clothes aren’t your business, but your poor work ethic is mine.”
I recoil from the hostile barb. “Are you upset about something?”
His penetrating glare is beginning to give me a complex. “What was your first clue?”
“Your sister assured me that we”—I point from his chest to mine—“won’t have any problems.”
“She isn’t here to keep that promise. You let her run off.”
Static crackles in the air, raising the hair on my arms. “I didn’t let her do anything. Bianca is in control of her own destiny. I just offered to help so the decision to leave wouldn’t weigh on her.”
He snorts. “Must be nice.”
“Maybe you’re the one who needs a vacation,” I hint.
Which is the wrong suggestion to offer. There’s blistering fury in Brody’s stare, ready to be unleashed. “Listen, Twinkles—”
“Twinkles? ”
“You’re so”—he waves a hand at my rhinestone belt and bling jeans—“sparkly.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Absolutely not. You’re too much.”
I blink at the attitude he’s flinging my way. “Too much?”
“Are you going to question everything I say?”
“Can you blame me when you’re making ridiculous statements that I don’t comprehend? I’m beginning to feel like this is an interrogation.”
He grins but the expression is cold and detached. “Glad we’re finally on the same page.”
My mind gallops to uncover the reason why his anger targeted me. Our only other interaction was when I tried to offer him comfort and he swiftly dismissed my attempt. Considering the circumstances, I shrugged off his cruel words easily enough. It seems like grace might still need to be granted. That’s reasonable to a certain extent.
Silence stretches and expands while I study the fury curling off Brody like wisps of smoke. This guy recently lost his mother. Marion Benson was the center stone that kept everyone else settled. Since she passed, her family has been scattered about and forced to reassemble. This new normal is badly broken but trying to mend. There’s more strength in that than they give themselves credit for.
I’m not a therapist or an expert in grief, but it’s obvious that Brody is struggling. Maybe this is how he copes. He lashes out when the pain demands a release. I just so happen to be conveniently located, and I’m willing to handle his temper for a few rounds. But I don’t dare voice that offer aloud.
The main reason being that his attack feels personal. More than suppressed mourning. I’m not volunteering to be his doormat.
Bandit nudges my arm and knocks me from the spiral. I drift my palm down the slope of his head, taking comfort in the familiar motion. The palomino’s gentle shove reminds me that he’s at my side and I’m not alone. It also gives me the courage to stand taller.
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof,” I joke. “Regardless of what you believe, I’m not trying to overstep. Your sister hired me to do a job, and I plan to do it well. There’s nothing for us to fight about.”
Brody bends until our faces are level and the brim of his hat almost thumps my forehead. At this distance, I get a tantalizing whiff of crisp pine and mayhem. It’s too tempting. My concentration buzzes and blurs at the edges. His clean scent has me picturing him fresh from the shower, only a towel wrapped around his waist. The visual of stray droplets trickling along his muscles doesn’t pass the current vibe check. I scold myself and decide to take Bianca’s advice about going on a date.
That resolve gains momentum when Brody’s glare narrows into sharpened blades. “This is a family matter, and you’re not family. You don’t belong here.”
I suck in a sharp breath. That statement is similar to the one he spat at his mother’s funeral. Heat stings my eyes, but I refuse to cry. He’d probably rejoice in my tears. Forget that. I can handle his wrath and beat him with sweetness. He’ll look like an ass, at least to me. What I won’t recover from is letting him see how his words hurt me.
It’s a small victory that my voice doesn’t tremble when I ask, “Are you planning to fire me? ”
Veins bulge in his neck as he seems to fight with himself to take the bait. “Nah, you’ll choose to leave on your own. I’m just showing you the fastest exit.”
The urge to flee almost quakes my knees, but I won’t let him intimidate me. “How considerate.”
His eyes blaze when I add more fuel to the fire. Brody crosses his arms and widens his stance, towering over me like a thunder cloud. “Is this how you speak to your boss?”
“Not usually, but I’ll let you know after I talk to her later.”
Steam very well might be spewing from his ears. “You’re being insubordinate. That’s grounds for termination.”
“Do you have the power to make that decision?” I paste on a demure grin that’s suitable for chapping his ass. “Besides, you said I’d be the one to quit.”
His jaw clenches until a joint twerks in his cheek. “Might not be fast enough if you keep testing my patience.”
“Well, too bad. I’m not going anywhere. Your sister is relying on me and I won’t let her down. Until she returns, you’re stuck with me.”
“I won’t make it easy on you.”
Just to prove my lady balls are swinging for the challenge, I give Brody a slow once-over. “Fine by me.”