Chapter Thirteen
“Are you whistling?”
Caught out, Zero spun to face Tag, then turned halfway back to the feed trough where he was spreading out the grain he’d just poured. “Maybe. It’s not a crime.”
Moving in beside him, Tag hefted the second bag of grain into his arms, then dumped it into the bin. “I’d ask if you got lucky last night, but we both know that’s not even a remote possibility. A shame, by the way.”
“Since when do you pay attention to my love life?” he grumbled instead of arguing either point. Though he probably should put up a token protest, not that it would do any good.
“Since always? Long enough to know that you never leave the ranch and women never come here.”
It gratified him that Tag didn’t think of Delilah as a woman, mostly because it meant the man didn’t have designs on her, even though it didn’t matter in the long run. Zero had no claim on her, which was the real shame, but that didn’t change facts.
“If you got a woman of your own, you could stop stalking me,” he suggested with saccharine sweetness. “Barbara Jean’s sister moved back to town. Saw her the other day at Miller’s. You could do worse.”
Tag ducked his head, a red flush creeping up the back of his neck. “I already got my eye on someone else.”
The newsflash stopped Zero in his tracks. “Yeah? Who?”
“Not worth mentioning yet.” The man’s steadfast refusal to look at him meant something, but danged if Zero knew what. Was Tag lying about there being someone else? Why would he do that?
For the first time since inheriting the ranch, Zero really looked at his old friend. Their dynamic had changed—by necessity. It felt wrong all at once, but how could he relax enough to change it? Tag was his employee. Same as Delilah.
He needed them both to be doing what he paid them to do, and he didn’t really have the luxury of indulging in selfish desires to simply feel human again, with a human need for companionship.
“Keep your secrets,” he told Tag, since he had no right to weasel a name out of him, like he would have in the old days.
Maybe one day he’d get the ranch where it needed to be, and then he could think about shifting their dynamic back to best friends. If it wasn’t too late.
With the cattle fed, Zero could focus on the highlight of the day—Delilah’s training session. Not that he’d fully admitted to himself how much he was looking forward to it. It was a means to an end that didn’t suck, which was an easier way to frame all of his interactions with the dog trainer.
Except when he strolled into the barn to wait for her, she was already there.
Thrown off his stride, he skidded to a halt, drinking her in as unobtrusively as possible.
Dang, how was it legal for someone to look so good in the morning?
As always, Delilah had this bohemian flair to her taste that favored long skirts and flowy tops, which suited her personality and gave her this willowy, romantic vibe that apparently worked for him a lot more than he’d have guessed.
“Well, well,” he said and crossed his arms over the ache in his chest that had sprung up out of nowhere. What was that about? “Fancy meeting you here. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least.”
“Surprise,” she said, her fingers splaying wide as if she’d just jumped out of a big cake, a smirk blooming in her expression, which clued him in he needed to watch his step today.
He’d upset the apple cart yesterday, that was for sure.
Stop thinking of me as your boss.
The comment hung between them, taking on a life of its own he hadn’t considered. Or anticipated.
He never should have started that game, but she’d been standing there so smug and self-righteous about showing him up he pulled on the only thread he could grasp that had “guaranteed win” written all over it.
The almost-kiss felt like just punishment for the payback. After all, he’d had to sleep on the memory of it. And his bed had been cold and lonely indeed as he replayed that moment over and over again. Worth it, though, to see the look on her face when she realized he had her number.
“Consider me surprised,” he said, wondering how carefully he’d have to pick his way through their session today. The space between them felt littered with land mines, something he could have smelled a mile away in his prime.
At this stage of his life, he suspected his skills had grown rusty. Explosions were imminent. All he could do at this point was hang on. After all, he’d started it.
“I thought we’d work with Captain Jack Sparrow today,” she said brightly as she cut across the barn to the dog’s stall, then let him into the main area.
Her tone told him she’d put a lot of thought into the choice, but why? What difference did it make? “Sure.”
The undercurrents sharpened as Delilah motioned Zero over. “You’re the star of the show today, Mr. Renshaw. Let me fill you in on—”
“Stop calling me that,” he growled.
“Mr. Renshaw?” Mild amusement sprang into her expression. “Okay. What would you like me to call you?”
Anything but that, especially the way she said it, with subtle emphasis on the mister that made it sound sinful and not the slightest bit accidental. “Zero. It’s what everyone calls me.”
She gave him a look. “Yeah, but it’s a weird name. It also doesn’t fit you.”
What? He kept the shock off his face as he contemplated her. “It does so. It fits me to a T.”
“Since I’m an avid student of how well your T’s fit…
” Her gaze dropped to his shirt, taking a full unapologetic tour of the outline of his shoulders, which did uncomfortable things to his temperature.
“I’m here to tell you that Zero is not in the same ballpark.
Maybe not even the same state. What’s your real name? ”
He snorted. “I’m not falling for that trick. The second I tell you, you’ll use it against me.”
Hand to her chest in mock dismay, Delilah glared at him. “I am offended that you believe I’d make fun of the name your mother gave you. I’ve lived with Sampson jokes my whole life, so I get it.”
“Yeah, no, that’s not a credential that earns you a way into the circle of trust,” he advised her, making a mental note to hide his wallet before she snuck into his room to peek at his driver’s license. “Besides, my real name doesn’t fit me, either.”
“Ah.” She bounced into his space, poking him in the chest triumphantly. “You said either. You admit Zero is all wrong.”
Crushing her hand to his torso with his, he held it in place so she couldn’t escape. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t balk. Of course not. Because she’d never been afraid of him, bothered by him, or put off. If any woman in existence could be considered his match, it was Delilah Kersey.
That’s the only reason he felt this reckless desire to push the boundaries with her. And not just because he’d vowed to ruin her chances of successfully fulfilling his criteria by the end of the week.
“Poor choice of words,” he countered smoothly. “Tell me again why we’re arguing about this? Why can’t you just do as I say?”
Her grin was nothing short of wicked. “Because you got all huffy over me calling you Mr. Renshaw, like you have it in your head that I think of you as some old man, when nothing could be further from the truth.”
Oh, that was not even close to why it bothered him. “You certainly don’t intend it as a means of respect.”
“Don’t I?” Her brows lifted, drawing attention to her amazing eyes.
He let himself drown in them for a minute, suddenly very aware of how close she was. And that they were essentially holding hands in the absolute best way possible. Worst way. The worst. The heat of her palm burned his flesh through the cotton between them.
“What do you think of me as?” he murmured. “If not an old man.”
Her gaze took inventory of his face, stealing all of his breath as he waited to hear her say she didn’t think of him at all. Or as her boss—which was what she should say.
But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Jury is still out,” she mused with a maddening lack of inflection. “But there’s no one on the planet who could be in your company for more than five minutes and still think you should be likened to absolute zero. You’re closer to Mount Vesuvius than the arctic.”
“Interesting,” he returned with a heavy dose of sarcasm designed to convey he meant the exact opposite of the word. “That you’re the only person on the planet with this opinion. Pray tell how you arrived at this conclusion.”
“I watch you with your family.” Her eyes softened so fast he had no time to throw up a guard against the way it affected him.
He stared at her as something he couldn’t name rippled through the atmosphere.
“You love them so much. Hunter adores you, trusts you. A lot of kids in his position would curl up and refuse to engage, but you’ve been so patient with him that he can’t help but respond. It’s really touching.”
“Well.” His throat seized up and cut off whatever else he’d been about to say.
“Not to mention the fact that you’re building this ranch strictly to take care of Hunter, Sheridan, and Tag,” she continued, as if determined to get him completely speechless.
“When you could be doing anything else. Instead, here you are, day in and day out, doing the hard work because there’s no one else to do it.
Stop me when I get to the part where I’m supposed to think of you as cold and emotionless. ”
There was no scenario where this would end any other way.
His mouth crashed down on hers, shutting her up the old fashioned way. There was nothing gentle about it, but she met him halfway, raking him over hot coals as the kiss heated up. What started as a need to be that man she saw became something else as the endless void inside him filled with Delilah.
This woman had power. It called to him even as it warned him of imminent disaster. He was helpless to stop drinking her in.
She saw him. Saw through him, inside to the parts no one had ever touched. She made him feel like glass, like he could hide nothing and might shatter at any moment. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.