Chapter 5
ADAM
By the time the week was out, Kyra had completely moved into the detached apartment on the ranch.
Another week passed, and Adam still hadn’t gotten rid of her.
By the third week, he stopped giving interviews altogether.
Keeping up the facade that he was going to replace her soon had become a waste of everyone’s time.
One day, after telling her to take the morning off, he realized he did need her help with something, and went to find her in the apartment.
He knocked on the door, and when she opened it, he suddenly found he had forgotten what he wanted to say to her in the first place.
He had never seen the little apartment behind his house looking quite like this.
She had to have gone to a store the day he sent her back to collect the rest of her things from her home.
There was no way she had this many curtains lying around.
And they fit the windows of the apartment perfectly.
No, she had to have bought them. There was art on the walls and throw pillows, too.
She even had a lacy tablecloth on the little table in the corner.
The pillows on the bed were fluffy and new.
She had certainly made herself at home. And she didn’t seem to be too strapped for cash either.
He wondered why she had seemed so desperate for the job on day one.
“Interior decorating is not part of your job description,” he said with a scowl, “in case you thought it was.”
She glanced around the place as though she had never seen her own apartment before, then turned back with wide eyes and a mischievous smile. “But you might be less likely to let me go if you feel bad about the amount of money and effort I put into decorating this place.”
“You have definitely misread the situation if that’s what you think.” He stepped into the apartment but only by a foot or so. He didn’t dare invade her space any more than that. “And that still doesn’t explain why you’ve decorated the place like a lady’s boutique.”
“Have you considered the possibility that I just like the way this looks?” she said, planting her hands on her hips.
He crossed his arms and surveyed the environment again. “Don’t you think it’s a bit girly and delicate for the private quarters of a ranch hand?”
“Do you really think having ruffles on my curtains will affect my job performance?” She cocked her head at him and laughed. “So, anyway, what did you really come here to say? Surely it wasn’t to criticize my decorating. Do you need help with anything?”
He actually had to think about it before answering her question. She had distracted him enough that he’d forgotten why he’d come to get her. “I need help giving cake to the cattle.”
Her hands dropped from her hips. “I’m sorry, did you say cake? I suppose I did used to work in a bakery, so I’m pretty skilled at frosting things. Seems kind of weird, though.”
“It’s not literally cake.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s what I call their supplements.”
Kyra sat down to put her boots on. “Is that because it’s a kind of treat for them?”
Adam shrugged. “They seem to like it.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s adorable! I’m going out to give treats to cows. This is the best day ever!” She leapt up after her boots were on and followed him out the door, her boundless enthusiasm making him want to roll his eyes again. But he resisted the temptation.
She wasn’t yet comfortable on a horse, so Adam added that to the list of things she would need to learn. Instead, they took a four-wheeler out with large bags of pellets. As soon as the cattle heard Adam calling them, they came running.
“They really do like this stuff, don’t they?” Kyra said.
“Yep,” Adam answered. “Now drive a bit slower. We’re going to pour it as we drive. Make a long trail for them to line up at.”
Their positions were the opposite of what Adam would have liked them to be.
Kyra was in the front, driving, and Adam sat behind her, feeling mildly useless.
When they reached the pasture, he turned around so they were back-to-back, picked up a bag with one arm, and pulled the string that opened it with his teeth.
Then he poured the pellets off the back of the four-wheeler as they drove.
The cattle followed, vocalizing their excitement as only cattle can do, stopping only when they reached the trail of pellets to eat.
As expected, some of the cattle were more aggressive than others. They trotted up and made demands, mouthed Adam’s boots, and got a little too curious about Kyra. He could tell she was overwhelmed at first, but after she got used to all the attention, she started to relax.
“Hey, that’s not food,” she said to a cow who must have gotten too close.
Adam couldn’t see what she was doing, but she was happy to give him the play-by-play, whether he wanted it or not.
“Oh, she didn’t like that!” she shouted back at Adam.
“Now she’s yelling at me.” More laughter tugged at Adam’s heart, but he did his best to ignore it.
“The insides of their mouths are so weird, aren’t they? ”
“I’m sure they would say the same about you, if they could talk,” Adam said. Too much? he asked himself.
But she just said. “True! I bet we look weird to them too, huh? Good point. What do you think, cow?” He heard her open her mouth and stick out her tongue because she actually said, “Ah,” the way a doctor might instruct a child to do.
“Is my mouth weird to you, cow? Hey, I don’t think I should call you cow, though.
It sounds rude. Do you want to be Josie? ”
To Adam’s surprise, the cow mooed in response.
Kyra elbowed backwards, nudging Adam gently on the back. “See? See? She likes it! OK, Josie, it is. The brown-and-white spotted one is called Josie. Enjoy your cake, Josie! It’s on the house. Free brunch. Chat with the girls.”
“Do you never stop talking?” Adam asked.
She seemed to think about it for a moment before deciding on an answer. “Not when I’m excited. Sometimes I even talk in my sleep.”
He slapped a hand to his forehead. “I bet you do.”
“Mom says it’s cute,” she argued.
Adam kept himself from saying, I bet it is, the way he wanted to. Instead, he instructed, “Stop for a second.”
“Stop talking?”
“No,” he snapped. “Stop driving.”
“Got it,” she said, applying the brakes. “Stop driving. Never stop talking.”
“I did not say that, and you know it.” While they were stopped, Adam secured the empty bags on the back of the four-wheeler and turned around so he was facing forward again.
“I think we should call the black one Midnight,” Kyra went on.
“Call it whatever you want,” Adam said. “It won’t know the difference.”
“Now, I don’t think you’re giving them enough credit. What about that black-and-white one over there? Domino?”
“Get us back quickly,” he said, pretending he hadn’t even heard her. “There are things I still want to do before lunch.”
“OK, boss, but you’d better hang on tight.”
Before he could ask her what she meant, they took off fast, and he had to wrap his good arm around her waist to avoid being thrown from the four-wheeler.
He wondered momentarily whether she had done it on purpose, knowing he would have to hang on tightly to her, but he quickly wrote the idea off.
She didn’t seem that devious a person. On the contrary, she seemed overly honest and trusting.
If he’d wanted to, he was pretty sure he could have pulled a similar move on her, and she would be none the wiser.
But he wouldn’t do that, of course. This was a professional relationship, and he intended to keep it that way.
Even so, he couldn’t help thinking that it felt unreasonably good to put an arm around her waist and pull her back against him.
Several days later, Kyra asked permission to paint her apartment.
Since Adam had already decided he wasn’t going to hire anybody else, he didn’t see the harm.
He assumed she wanted to paint the interior walls.
That assumption was dead wrong, but he didn’t realize how wrong it was until she had already started the project.
By the time he noticed that she meant to paint the outside of her apartment, she had already done exterior repairs and applied a coat of primer.
He stood watching her for a while before she noticed his presence. She was working hard, wiping sweat from the back of her neck with a cloth handkerchief and dripping primer all over herself. After he’d had his fill of observation, he said, “I thought you were going to paint the walls inside.”
She whirled around on the spot and stared at him, wide-eyed. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” he lied.
She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly doubting his answer, but she didn’t bother accusing him. “Well, I guess I apologize for the misunderstanding. Did you… want me to stop?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The building needed some maintenance anyway. As long as I didn’t pay for the paint.”
“Nope. I paid for it all by myself.” She straightened up, tall and proud, and he immediately felt heat creeping up his spine.
It was vital that he escape the situation immediately before he started visibly blushing. “Well, carry on then, I guess. I don’t need any more help this evening, so you can paint to your heart’s content.”
“Thanks, boss.” She gave him an adorably incorrect salute, and he had to turn away from her because his face was two seconds from becoming a full-on stoplight.
All evening, he focused on work and more work.
He went to bed that night without bothering to say goodnight to her.
He seemed to be getting drunk on the sight of her, and he didn’t trust himself to stay sober in her presence.
Maybe hiring an attractive woman wasn’t a good idea after all.
Or maybe he was just tired and needed a good night’s sleep.
He chose to believe the latter. It was far too late to address the former anyway, not without looking like a complete jerk, although he was used to looking like a partial jerk.
Why did he care what Kyra thought of him anyway?
Not caring what people thought of him was one of his favorite personal traits.
He didn’t have very many favorite personal traits, so he had to treasure the ones he did have.
That did it. Decision made. He would force himself to stop caring and stop staring.
He was going to be professional and not lose control of the situation.
She was already up feeding the horses the next morning, and he did a marvelous job ignoring her.
But later that afternoon, when he went to collect her from her lunch break, he found that she had finished applying the first coat of paint.
And it was bright yellow. All he could do was stand there and blink at it.
She stepped out of the apartment and noticed him. “Do you like it?” she asked. “I thought it would brighten the place up a bit. Add a little sunshine, you know.” She seemed unreasonably pleased with her choice of colors.
“Is this a ranch, or is it a daycare?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kyra appeared to think about it for a moment. Then she answered, “It’s a daycare for animals?”
“Nice try, but no. You’re not weaseling your way out of this one. What could have possessed you to choose a color like this?”
She shrugged. “I like it.”
“So, you weren’t trying to make it hostile to potential future hands I might hire to replace you?”
“Hm.” She leaned on the doorframe and thought a moment. “I like that answer better,” she concluded at last. “Makes me sound like some kind of evil genius. Scratch my last answer and replace it with that one.” She grinned. “But come on. It’s called daffodil. You can’t hate daffodils, can you?”
“Please, say the trim isn’t going to be orange.”
“The trim isn’t going to be orange,” she said in a flat, obedient tone.
“Are you saying that because it’s true, or because I told you to say it?” he asked, suddenly suspicious again.
Kyra burst out laughing. “It’s true, it’s true! I swear it’s true. I was thinking white trim would be nice. What do you think?”
He glowered at her but eventually nodded. “At least it isn’t pink.”
She bit her lower lip and looked mischievous all of a sudden. “Now you’re giving me ideas. Does the barn need a paint job, too?”
“No,” he barked, pointing a finger at her. “Bad hired hand. No pink barns.”
“Chartreuse?” she offered.
“We’ll talk,” he said with a stern expression. “Now let’s go. Josie, Midnight, and Domino need their cake.”
All of a sudden she burst out laughing. “You remembered them!” she cried. “I didn’t think you would. Does that mean you like the names?”
“Naming the cattle is not a good idea,” he said. “You’ll only get attached, and they are livestock, after all.”
No matter what he said, though, she would not stop laughing. “Does that mean you actually like my paint choices, too? Are you a secret sweetheart, boss? I bet you are.”
He glared at her, willing her to be intimidated, though she seemed impossible to intimidate.
“I’m not a secret anything,” he said, allowing bitterness to leak into his tone intentionally so his next words were more of a shock.
“I am a public sweetheart. Never forget that, or I’ll fire you before you can paint the barn pink. ”
She laughed and laughed as he walked away. And he allowed himself to smile because she couldn’t see his face anymore.