Chapter 7
Marshall could hear the little guest house before he could see it, as he walked up the curved gravel path to Colette’s.
When he first noticed the music drifting to him on his front porch, he assumed it was the guys in the bunk house.
He was soon corrected as he approached the cottage.
It was like she had never received the memo that people escaped to the country to enjoy the quiet, the stillness.
Some kind of loud music was blaring out from her open windows.
As he walked up to the house, his mouth gaped open in shock as he saw through the living room window to the kitchen.
He licked his lips, his gaze locked on Colette, mesmerized.
There she stood, one leg on a chair and the second one on the kitchen counter, an arm and head stuffed in one of the cupboards, wiping as her hips swayed suggestively to the music.
Marshall licked his lips as he took in the bright pink pajama shorts and top, with…
He squinted to see better… Little red cherries sprinkled all over them.
He shook his head in slow motion, taking in the soft curve of her ass as it made the ruffled bottom of the shorts flutter.
This would not do.
This would not do at all.
Colette Slip was used to life in the city, but out here, things were different.
The ranch had men living in quarters not so far from this guest house.
Maybe in a high-rise apartment where your privacy was assured by being high up off the ground, this was an appropriate outfit, but out here, anyone could catch a glimpse of those creamy thighs and get up to mischief.
Get ideas. He shook his head. It was a good thing he had come upon her before anyone else did.
Turning to glance at the two cold beers in his hand, he remembered the purpose of his visit and decided to keep the lectures for later.
He wanted to start their conversation on a positive note.
He was, after all, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky Marshall, and she needed to get better acquainted with the man he was—not the grumpy oaf he was earlier today during their meeting.
First, he had to tear his eyes away from the sight of her curves and break the spell her moves were weaving.
Giving his head a shake, he willed his legs to advance.
Imagine getting caught staring like a creep.
Marshall scoffed. The last thing she needed was a lecherous boss devouring her with his eyes. A flush crept up his cheeks, his ability to deny what he had been doing rather impressive.
Why was his heart racing?
Must be his body’s natural reaction to the fear of getting caught.
Nothing more.
He climbed the single step and rapped his knuckles loudly on the door, letting a bracing breath out into the cool, dark night.
The music paused, followed by the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood.
He reminded himself to be good, be nice, and welcoming.
Pre-emptively, he stretched his mouth into a grin.
Colette opened the door, brows furrowed, and head tilted up to one side.
“Hi, Marshall,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came with a peace offering,” he said, showing the two brown bottles clasped in his hand. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot this morning in our meeting.”
“It’s okay. I knew there would be some adjustments once I started working on the files. I get it.” Her mouth tilted up to the side, not smiling. She seemed wary.
Marshall swallowed. Of course she had her guard up. Clearly, she wasn’t picking up what he was putting down.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Colette chewed her lip nervously and glanced down at her pajamas, the shorts fluttering as her hand brushed against them.
They were a real problem.
There was something wrong with that fabric.
And he wasn’t even going to get started with how the button up top offered a tempting glimpse of her cleavage. That would be rude.
He was here to make her comfortable, not drool all over her living room sofa. All this time, he was worried about the other ranch hands, and here he was, acting like a man who had never seen a woman before.
It wasn’t the first time he was with a beautiful woman, and he could handle it.
Truly, he could.
“I’m not really dressed for guests,” she said, looking behind her at the kitchen. “I was wiping out the cupboards and unpacking my food. I must look like a mess.” She waved her hands to indicate her appearance.
He held his tongue. There would be no discussion of whether those pajamas were appropriate or not. None.
Marshall glimpsed the grocery bags and nodded. “No problem, I can go. But here, a peace beer,” he said, handing her the drinks. He turned to retrace his steps down the path to the main house. He had made his gesture; Jack would be satisfied. Marshall could sleep easy tonight.
“Wait. Please come in,” Colette said, stepping away from the doorway.
“I can’t refuse a peace beer.” She gave him a small smile and waved him into the house.
Walking quickly to the kitchen, she pulled out two glasses and placed them on the counter.
Turning to reach into another cupboard, she found some chips.
“Can’t have beer without snackies,” she said with a laugh.
The sound tickled Marshall’s ears, goosebumps scattering over his arms. He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. The chip bag was popped open and emptied into a large bowl.
“I’m excited to hear all your ideas to fix the ranch finances,” he said, popping the top of his beer and taking a swig. “There’s been some weird shit happening lately. I truly welcome your insights.” There. That almost sounded like an apology.
Colette tilted a glass and poured a perfect beer, no head. Marshall’s eyes widened. She was a woman of many talents, this city girl. Just what the ranch needed.
“Well, my background is accounting, but I’ve dabbled in some business management.
I’m always willing to learn more. I’m eager to dive in and see where we could repair some of the damage and if there are any areas we could create new revenue streams. You know, starting fresh.
” She licked her cherry lips and brought the glass to her mouth.
Marshall looked behind her to distract himself from the curve of her neck as she swallowed.
He wondered if she had cherries in the fridge; her lips were so goddamned full and rosy, it looked like she had eaten some.
He shook his head, truly bewildered at his train of thought.
The reason for this visit was to establish a positive relationship with his new co-worker, not start picturing himself pressing her up against the counter and…
Nope. He was doing it again. He cleared his throat and thrummed his fingers on the table nervously.
“I’m eager to hear all your ideas,” he croaked. Marshall closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to reset. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, and he was a nice guy. He wanted to apologize. Make things right. “And I want to apologize for being snippy this morning.”
“Oh?” she answered, her mouth forming the most enchanting little “o” he had ever seen. Her big blue eyes trained on him, dark lashes fluttering. Damn, everything about her was so enticing.
“I’m usually a nice guy. I let doubt get the best of me.
When you showed up, asking questions and wondering about my employees, I took it personally.
I shouldn’t have. It’s what you’re here for.
We need an outsider’s point of view to start making sense of everything. ” The uneasiness in his chest settled.
She tipped her glass and swallowed another mouthful of beer.
“Mmm, well, thanks for coming. I needed a break. The place was clean, but I wanted to put my own touch on it. Now I’m tired,” Colette said as she looked around, assessing the space.
“Hope my music wasn’t too loud. It’s my first time out in the country like this and it’s so quiet and dark outside at night.
” Colette rubbed her bottom lip, and Marshall tapped his foot to distract himself.
“It takes some getting used to,” he said. “Now I find it hard to sleep in the city. It’s always turned on. The lights, I mean.” Marshall coughed.
Colette twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger and gathered herself in her arms, hugging herself.
“The darkness here is so relentless. It’s a little scary,” she said with a small, breathy laugh. “I know, I’m so silly.”
“You’re not silly. Maybe I’ll have to send Pablo over to keep you company. He’s a nuisance at the main house anyway. Way too needy,” he said, spinning his beer in slow circles on the table.
“Who’s Pablo?”
“He’s Pablo Picasso. The barn cat that hates the outdoors and therefore stays in the ranch house. Makes no sense. My sister is a vet tech, and she brought him in one day and the rascal never left.”
Colette bit her lip.
“I’ve never had a pet. My dad was allergic. I don’t know if I’d want one,” she said hesitantly. Her brows gathered in worry, clearly afraid to upset Marshall. He waved away her comment.
“I’m not sure you’d want a cat like Pablo anyway.
I barely tolerate him. And don’t get me started on my dog,” he said with a snort.
“Hank is the worst farm dog you’ve ever seen.
” Satisfied, she had perked up; Marshall considered his efforts to cheer her hadn’t been wasted.
He pressed his hands on the table and stood.
“I’ll make it a point to introduce myself to Pablo and Hank,” she said, her mouth curving into a smile. “I don’t want to be rude.”
His mouth couldn’t resist mirroring her warm expression. At the risk of ruining a perfect truce, Marshall decided to end the conversation while he was ahead. He climbed down from the barstool.
“Well, I’d best be going. Again, I’m sorry for being an ogre. I’m a great guy, I swear,” he said with a soft chuckle.
She snorted. “Yes, you’ve said that. I will say, most great guys don’t have to tell you how awesome they are. They just are.”