Chapter Fourteen
If unkissing someone was a thing, Delilah needed that.
But if it was a thing, no one had explained to her how to accomplish it, so instead, she got to relive the feel of Zero Renshaw’s mouth on hers over and over again. That’s what she got for pushing his buttons right back.
She should have pushed him away. Slapped him. Acted like he had the kissing skills of a half-dead octopus and yawned in his face. Anything other than what she’d done, which was kiss him back as if all the oxygen in the world had been sucked away and she needed him to survive.
Shockingly, she still felt that way all these long hours later.
Time hadn’t faded the experience one bit, which kind of sucked, considering she had to face him this morning.
Not just face him—function. Train some dogs.
Pretend her little crush on her boss hadn’t exploded yesterday into something far hotter, much bigger, and ten times more impossible to manage.
Especially if she hoped to gain some semblance of an advantage.
Today she couldn’t let him distract her. She had to show him that she could train the dogs to herd cows by the end of the week, or she’d be out on her butt.
She double-timed it to the barn again in hopes of beating him, so she could acclimate before he got there, but she hadn’t actually expected to arrive first. The fact he’d let her threw everything off-kilter.
Dang that man. He’d unsettled her in the first moment just by doing the unexpected. He was good.
But she could be better.
When he strolled into the barn a few minutes later, he didn’t even look all that shocked she’d managed to remember how to set her alarm on her phone, actually rolled out of bed when it went off—the first time!
—and dashed down the hill ahead of him two days in a row.
It had to be some kind of record, but no one here appreciated it.
Zero had two paper cups of coffee in his hands. He held one out to her, which she took while eyeing him suspiciously.
“You brought me coffee?” she asked him.
“You were so busy trying to get here first, you left without it.” He shrugged, sipping his nonchalantly. “So yeah. I did. The traditional response to that would be thank you.”
“Only people who bring coffee to me with no agenda get tradition,” she informed him sweetly and took a sip to find that he’d prepared it perfectly. Almost as if he’d studied how she took her coffee on the sly. On purpose. So he could take chinks out of her armor later.
The man was killing her.
He lifted a brow, clearly expecting some additional commentary. “Well? Did I get it right?”
“You know you did,” she grumbled, wondering how to combat this new round of battle when she didn’t understand the game, the rules, or why they were playing.
All she knew was that he’d changed everything by kissing her, and she didn’t know how to manage the fact that she wanted him to do it again.
Like, a lot. Ideally, without all of the complications between them, but that ship had sailed.
Which was why she couldn’t let him kiss her today or any day, no matter what.
And she had to stay sharp. The coffee would definitely help with that, dang it.
“Thank you,” she said as she took another sip. “I appreciate the gesture.”
His eyes narrowed a touch. Good. She’d confused him by switching the script.
More where that came from. This painting would depict gifts raining down from the sky, boxes tied in pretty ribbons to disguise their sinister nature, and it would be called Kill Them With Kindness, done in pastel watercolors.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure whether she was the one sending the gifts or receiving them.
“You’re welcome,” he said without a shred of sarcasm, and she had no idea what to do with that other than move on.
Why did all of this have to be so complicated?
Oh, that’s right, because she’d screwed up from the beginning by telling him she could train his dogs and then letting a little boy’s grief derail what she’d promised to do.
And then, she’d somehow gotten to a place where she enjoyed Zero’s company, then increased the complexity by kissing him.
She couldn’t have complicated it more if she’d planned it.
The worst part? Even if she could go back and do it all over again, it wouldn’t matter, because she would still be leaving at some point in the future to go back to being an art history doctoral candidate.
Once she got her letters, universities around the country would start competing for her attention, throwing lavish job offers in her lap.
She’d probably end up halfway across the country before long, leaving this part of Texas in her rearview mirror.
All she had to do was make it through this week while she had to work with him—without letting her feelings for Zero get any stronger—and then work on a plan to forget him as she finished the job without his oversight.
“Which dog are we working with today?” he asked, reminding her that part of getting through the week included dogs and the sticky issue of how far behind she was on the agenda.
“You pick,” she suggested.
That way, she could blame it on him for picking the wrong dog if all of this went south.
“Will Turner,” Zero said decisively and strode over to let the German Shepherd out of his stall. “Where should we start?”
“With treats. Always.”
Delilah handed over the bag, yanking her fingers back before they accidentally brushed Zero’s, which probably told him more about her mental state than she’d prefer. Except he did the same thing, and the bag of treats didn’t fare so well. It hit the floor, scattering treats across the sawdust.
Oh, no. Will Turner was all over that. She gave the command for heel, but the dog was too busy mowing down the entire bag of treats to notice.
Delilah frowned at Zero. “That was my last bag. It was supposed to last the whole day.”
Lazily, he crossed his arms and cocked his head. “Guess we’re going to find out how it works without treats then.”
Yeah, he’d like that, wouldn’t he? Almost as if he’d done that on purpose, just so they could try it his way. She eyed him, but the man’s expression was a piece of granite, giving nothing away.
“Well, we already tried it once, so I don’t see how this is going to end any differently, but whatever.” She jerked her head at the dog. “Go ahead and run him through all the paces with hand signals, like I showed you yesterday.”
Hunter loved showing off, but Zero just stared at her balefully. “You didn’t say there was going to be a test.”
That pulled a smile out of her before she thought better of it. “Don’t worry, you have an in with the teacher.”
Something shifted in his expression making the temperature in the barn shoot up a few degrees to somewhere into the realm of Death Valley in August. “Do I?”
“I mean, sure,” she hedged as she desperately tried to reel back her scattered pulse. “After all, you’re the one signing my checks.”
“Oh, we’re back to that again. I forgot,” he mused. “I’m the boss. Maybe you should be calling me Mr. Renshaw.”
Not after yesterday, when he’d turned it into something far less innocuous than it should have been. She made a face at him and was instantly sorry when he chuckled richly, a sound he’d coated in thick, dark chocolate, making her want nothing more than to eat it by the handful.
That’s when she realized he might possibly be flirting with her. Which would serve her right, since she’d done it to him yesterday. But that had been before the kiss. Before he’d knocked her legs out from under her.
Today, everything felt precarious, like one small step in the wrong direction would cause her to fall off a cliff she hadn’t noticed. “How about if I don’t call you anything, and we focus on the dog?”
His brows lifted. “Sure. Why don’t you show me the commands again?”
Since she didn’t have a good argument against it, she ran through them, albeit a bit halfheartedly, since Will Turner had already scarfed down all the treats.
As expected, he barely glanced in her direction, tongue lolling out as he flopped to the ground for a good rest. Probably exhausted from laughing at her on the inside.
“Your turn,” she informed Zero with a hand roll toward the dog. “Let’s see if he responds to you any better than he did to me.”
Zero just shot her a look. “Obviously that’s not necessary. He hates me anyway, let alone me with no reward. Do you want to go to Miller’s?”
Her mouth practically dropped open. “Did you just admit that I’m right and you’re wrong?”
“Hah, not even close. I’m admitting nothing other than the fact that I don’t know if you prefer Miller’s to buy dog treats or someplace else.”
Somehow they were both smiling, although she was pretty sure he’d started it. His had an edge that she didn’t know how to interpret. “Miller’s.”
“I’ll drive.”
“I’ll drive.” She needed something to do with her hands and a task to concentrate on, which, if anyone up there liked her, would hide the fact her pulse still hadn’t settled. “My car gets better gas mileage.”
It was a lame reason, but he didn’t argue, just spilled his lanky form into the front seat of her silver hatchback.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.
That’s when she realized her mistake. This car was way too small to contain a man with Zero’s presence.
He filled up the entire thing, crowding into her space without moving at all.
And he smelled amazing.
When he reached to put on his seat belt, the muscles in his arm rippled and her eyes nearly crossed with the effort it took to hold back from dragging her fingertips across all that perfection.
“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered as she struggled to remember how to start the car. Push the button. Right.
“Something wrong with your car?”
Yeah, you’re in it. But the last thing his ego needed was the boost of knowing how easily he affected her. She forced a smile on her face that hopefully didn’t look forced and shook her head. “No problem. We’re all good here.”
Finally, the stars aligned, and she got the car started, drove around the circle in front of the house, and got out on the road toward town without coming unglued. Progress. But instead of staring out the window at the passing fields, he watched her instead. She glanced at him.
“Do I have something on my face?” she asked.
His smile came quickly. “I was just trying to figure out what color your eyes are. I thought they were brown, but they’re not. They change colors. After I kissed you, they turned this fascinating green-honey color. I was wondering if that was a onetime deal or that would happen every time.”
“You—” She tried to talk and swallow at the same time, then choked on it. Her eyes watered and she blinked rapidly, so she could see well enough to stay on the road. “You can’t talk about that.”
“What? You mean the kiss in the room that’s bigger than an elephant?”
Briefly, she shut her eyes for fortification that didn’t come and shook her head. “We agreed to forget that ever happened.”
He shrugged. “Saying it’s a good idea and then actually having the capacity to do it are two different things.”
Since she was likewise having a similar problem, she didn’t have a comeback for that. They drove in silence until she thought her skin would explode from holding back all of the things that had tried to fill it once the subject of kissing had come up.
“I’m not going to be around this area much longer,” she blurted, because obviously it wasn’t awkward enough yet in this car. “You know, after the dogs are trained. I’ll be moving on.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “I thought you said it was going to take six months to train the dogs.”
“Well, yeah. That’s why I’m trying to teach you and Hunter how to do it. So you can continue on. I have…other commitments.”
Why she was loath to mention her doctoral work, she had no idea.
But it felt wrong to flat-out tell him that she’d just taken this job to get her to the other side of a financial dry spell, especially given how much she’d come to love it.
Not to mention the fact he still didn’t know about her side trip down emotional support dog alley.
Plus, and she couldn’t put her finger on when it had happened, it felt like she’d studied art history in a murky past life that had nothing to do with this one.
“Is that why you think it’s a bad idea to get involved?”
Apparently no subjects were off-limits this morning. She glanced at him. “Among other reasons, yes.”
He nodded once. “I was curious. I thought maybe your objection had a more personal angle.”
“Seriously? Like maybe I’m not attracted to you?” She snorted. “If you’re fishing, there’s no need. I have no problem spelling out exactly how an eyeful of your toweled self has been disrupting my sleep for a hundred and seventy-five days.”
He laughed without sounding amused. “It hasn’t even been seventy-five days. What do you think about while you’re not sleeping?”
Side-eying him, she decided it couldn’t get any worse if she gave him exactly what he was looking for. “What the rest of you looks like.”
The temperature inside of the car hit record levels, and she genuinely feared she’d burn a hole through the cloth seat.
“Which is completely unfair,” he murmured. “Because I don’t have even half of you to think about.”
Her bones dissolved under the heat of his gaze. This game had stretched well past the point of reason, and the car was too small to keep it up in this vein. “I definitely don’t recall anything of that sort in the job description.”
Instantly, she was sorry she’d reinserted their working relationship into the mix. Necessary, though, to cool things off, and it worked. His expression morphed back into one she could handle. The hooded intensity of a moment ago, no. That man could steal her soul without a peep out of her.
The devil on her shoulder wouldn’t let it completely go, and she had to ask. “Why do you think it’s a bad idea to get involved?”
He stared at her as she rolled to a halt at the stop sign, then hit the signal to turn into Miller’s parking lot. She didn’t think he’d answer, but it turned out he was waiting until she stopped between the white lines.
Then he murmured, “Because it would be far too easy to fall for you.”