Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Zane
I swore under my breath the whole walk out to the barn.
“What the hell are they thinking? Letting some random woman move in like we’re runnin’ a damn bed and breakfast for strays.
” I yanked open the tack room door and grabbed a bedding fork and shovel, barely avoiding tripping over the wheelbarrow in my frustration.
“Bunch of morons,” I muttered, tossing the tools in the wheelbarrow and shoving it into motion as I stormed toward the stalls.
None of it made sense. This woman just shows up out of nowhere, and now she’s playing house under my mother’s roof like she belongs here? No. Nope. Something’s off.
Making my way into the first stall, I shoved the bedding fork under the dirty bedding a little harder than necessary and worked my way down the row, teeth clenched as I flung a mess of shavings and manure into the wheelbarrow.
Sweat beaded at the back of my neck, partly from the growing heat of the day and partly from the simmering irritation I couldn’t seem to shake.
My internal tirade came to a screeching halt when a horrified scream cracked through the air like a gunshot.
My stomach dropped.
Something in that scream shattered all my logic and had me dropping the bedding fork and sprinting out of the barn as my eyes frantically scanned the yard.
My heart pounded faster than I’d admit to anyone as I looked around…
and there she was—the stray—bolting away from the chicken coop like her boots were on fire.
“What the hell happened?” I shouted.
She skidded to a stop, breathing hard as she whirled on me and clutched her chest. “That thing just tried to kill me!”
Jesus. I wanted her gone, not dead. I jogged over to where she stood, still trying to catch her breath as my eyes raked over her, looking for blood or bite marks. “What thing?”
Her eyes met mine in a flash of fear and rage. “Chante!” she snapped, pointing at the coop.
My entire body deflated at once. Not a rattler. Not a copperhead. Just the damn rooster.
For a second, I’d actually thought she’d come face to face with one of those egg-stealers.
I’d been surprised more times than I liked by one of them curled up in the nesting boxes, and I’d be lying now if I said the thought of her getting bit hadn’t damn near knocked the breath out of me. But I wasn’t about to go all soft now.
Releasing a loaded breath, I closed the distance between us.
She stood there with her chest rising and falling fast, one hand buried in her wild mess of dark hair like she was trying to pull herself together.
Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and her eyes—wide, angry, and a little shaken—locked with mine like she was daring me to make a joke.
And I almost did, but then her bottom lip quivered, and anything I could’ve said then died before it even reached my lips.
Keeping my mouth shut, I walked up to her, prepared to wave the proverbial white flag, for just a moment, and make sure she was truly okay.
But the way she gripped that wire egg basket, like she was fully prepared to clock me with it, dissolved any chance of that.
I stepped up to her and she gasped as I took the basket from her hand.
Before she could even blink or come up with a protest, I turned and headed straight into the coop.
Satan himself—our mean-ass rooster—flapped his wings at me, but I shot him a glare and kept moving.
Five minutes later, I was back outside with a basket full of eggs.
“If you can’t handle something as simple as collecting eggs,” I bit out, shoving the basket back into her hands, “how the hell do you expect to help with anything else?”
I didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and stalked back toward the barn, pissed off all over again. Not just at her. At myself for letting my guard down.
“You’re a real jerk, you know!”
The corner of my mouth lifted. Not out of amusement. But because of the sheer audacity. I stopped and slowly turned my head to glare at her from over my shoulder.
Her entire body went rigid the second the words left her mouth, almost like she was bracing for whatever I was about to verbally throw back at her. Her eyes flicked away from mine, filled with the kind of regret that came too little, too late.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me names on my property.”
“I just don’t get why you hate me so much.”
“Because you’re a complete stranger,” I fired back, turning around fully now to face her. “A stranger who showed up out of nowhere and suddenly has my entire family bending over backward to make you comfortable. And I’m the jerk because I’m not kissing your ass, too?”
“So…I’m a problem because your family is nice?
” She let out a humorless laugh. “You act like I planned this whole thing. Make a wrong turn, check. Mess up my dad’s car, check.
Secure a guest room on a ranch with some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, check.
Constantly catch hell from a grumpy-ass cowboy every time I so much as breathe wrong around him, check and check. ”
I narrowed my eyes and stepped in closer, but her eyes didn’t flinch this time. “You think this is a joke?”
“No,” she said evenly. “But I do think you have one hell of a chip on your shoulder that has nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t know me,” I snapped.
She huffed a laugh. “Right back at ya, cowboy.”
“I know enough.”
“Oh yeah?” she challenged, folding her arms as the egg basket dangled on her fingertips. “Then by all means, enlighten me. Since you’ve got me all figured out.”
“You’re hiding something.”
Her expression faltered, just barely. “So what if I am? Ever think maybe it’s none of your damn business?”
“It is when you’re sleeping under my mother’s roof.”
She stared at me for a second, then...smirked?
“Okay,” she conceded. “You caught me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“You caught me,” she repeated, voice all mock-serious as she sighed with a shrug. “I am hiding something.”
I crossed my arms, not amused. “Okay, let’s have it then.”
She took a deep breath, dropped her gaze to the ground, then slowly lifted it to meet mine like she was about to confess to something serious.
“I’m on the run,” she said, completely straight-faced. “I was a waitress in a small-town diner, bored out of my mind. But then I met a guy who instantly became my ticket to excitement. We started small, robbing gas stations, and then moved on to banks—”
“Jesus,” I muttered, dragging a hand over my face. “You are such a little liar.”
She laughed and gave me a smug glare. “It’s the truth.”
“It’s Bonnie and Clyde. I’m not some stupid hillbilly.”
I turned and walked back to the barn, shaking my head. But she was clearly amused with herself and, unfortunately, still right behind me.
“Okay, okay,” she said, still going. “How about this then? My best friend and I took a weekend fishing trip and stopped at a country bar. Some drunk guy tried to assault her, so I shot him dead in the parking lot. We panicked and ran for Mexico—”
I spun around, cutting her off again. “Stop pitching me movie plots.”
“What, no points for creativity?” she asked, brows raised.
“You wanna play games, fine. Do it on someone else’s time.”
“Boy, you’re a poor sport,” she muttered. “Good at dishing it out, but you can’t take it.”
I ignored her and grabbed a shovel, heading into the horse stall.
“You could go finish your chores instead of bothering me,” I called over my shoulder. “You’re supposed to be working for that room you’re staying in.”
“I was only asked to collect eggs,” she said matter-of-factly. “And since you already did that for me—”
“Go find someone else to harass. I’m sure my mom or Norah could put you to work.”
“They went to the store a little while ago,” she said, sounding way too pleased. “So, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
I stopped mid-shovel and turned to look at her. She was leaning in the barn doorway now, clearly enjoying this way too much.
Why did she have to be so damn irritating and so…distracting?
I crossed the alley, shovel still in hand, and stood directly in front of her. She froze, back pressed against the barn wall, eyes wide like she wasn’t sure if I was going to kiss her or kick her out.
The truth was, I wasn’t sure either.
My gaze locked on her mouth—the way those lips pressed tight, stubborn as hell. And God damn me, I wanted to feel them on mine. Just once. Just to shut her up.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Fuck, maybe I just needed to get laid.
It’d been over a year since I had any kind of female companionship, so that had to be it—some primal itch that hadn’t been scratched in far too long and was now rearing its ugly head. Because it sure as hell wasn’t her.
Still, some deeply neglected part of me wanted to close that distance and see if that fire was more than just mutual hatred. But the louder, angrier part told me to shove off and keep my guard up. I wasn’t about to let some pretty face blow a hole in the walls I’d worked so hard to build.
I leaned in, close enough to catch the scent of her skin—sweet and wild and entirely unwelcome—and took the egg basket from her before thrusting a shovel into her hand.
“Good,” I said with a smirk. “You can help me clean the stalls.”
She stared at the shovel like it was an insult.
I walked past her, back to the stall, and tossed a glance over my shoulder. “You wanna wipe that stupid look off your face and get to work?”
She didn’t say a word, just followed me in silence, lips pressed tight. Probably thinking up another ridiculous story. Good. Let her stew for a bit.
When we finished spreading the last bit of fresh shavings, I handed her both shovels and grabbed the wheelbarrow.
“Why are you giving me these?” she asked.
“So you can put them away,” I explained like I was talking to a five-year-old.
“Yeah, I got that, smart-ass,” she shot back. “I meant, why’d you give me the girl job?”