Chapter 10 Faraday, We Have a Problem
faraday, we have a problem
DUKE
My chest is still tingling. That’s the first thing I notice when I come back down to Earth.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing in the hallway after the door was slammed in my face.
My whole damn body is still buzzing. Like something cracked open inside me and started leaking heat straight into my bloodstream.
I’m forty-two and acting like I’ve never been kissed before. Damn, that woman.
Who the hell does she think she is? I came up here to apologize, and she answers the door in a robe that leaves little to the imagination. Then she grabs me and kisses me?
No buildup, no hesitation.
Just full lips on mine, hot and confident. She hit me like a summer storm—fast, startling, gone. Now I’m left soaked in heat and stunned stupid. It was all I could do not to charge right back through her door and finish what she started.
Instead, I stalk down to the barn, muttering under my breath the whole damn way. Maybe tossing hay and mucking out stalls will calm me down. I grab a pitchfork, start cleaning like I’m trying to dig the memory out of my head.
Doesn’t matter how hard I work, I can’t shake her. The taste of her. The way she grabbed me like she meant it …
Okay, nope. This is not working.
Not even cleaning out the pigpen could scrub my nose of the way she smelled. Citrus and vanilla. Like some kind of shampoo that made me think of summer nights and bad ideas.
Soon the dinner bell will sound, and I’ll have to face her. I need to calm down and act like the kiss didn’t affect me even though I’m still trying to catch my breath. Forget calling her Sunshine—that woman is one hundred percent Trouble.
I’m halfway to the house when Jameson’s bark echoes from the porch. Rusty and Topper are there, papers spread across the table, pretending to work while the bulldog raises hell at a bird perched on the fence.
“Um,” Topper says when he sees me. “Why are you soaking wet?”
I sit down in a huff. “Dunked my head in the horse trough.”
“I appreciate you wanting to save water, boy,” Rusty says. “But we still have good snowpack so feel free to shower.”
“How did the apology go?” Topper asks.
I scratch my head. “It went …”
Topper’s expression sags. “Oh no, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. I tried to apologize … then she started yelling at me and then … she kissed me.”
Topper’s mouth falls open. “She kissed you? Then what happened?”
“I don’t know. I kind of blacked out after that.”
Rusty takes his hat off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“It’s not going anywhere. I can handle one woman from the city.”
“You sure about that?” Topper asks, not looking at me as he jots numbers down on the order form in front of him. “You know what I think is going on here?”
“Do tell,” I say.
“I think you’re so blown away because no woman has actually let you have it before. Most women chase you until the heels of their boots wear out. Roxanne knows you’re a jackass.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. “You might be onto something there.”
“And now you’ve got that look,” Topper says.
“What look?”
“The same look you get when you’re about to devour some of Thatcher’s famous ribs.”
“I do not.”
Topper squints at me. “You like Roxanne, don’t you?”
“I do not. I find her … intriguing.”
“Intriguing?”
“I …” I stand up and start pacing. My boots scuff the porch boards as I walk a short line and back again.
“Use your words, Faraday,” Rusty says.
“Fine. She really does look like a movie star. How does she do that? She seems so closed off, and yet the animals love her day two? How? The turtlenecks and long sleeves in the middle of summer? How can that be comfortable? Isn’t she hot?”
Topper hangs his head. “Oh, Lord. I have a feelin’ she’s going to be an itch you can’t scratch. Better go dunk your head in the horse trough one more time.”
“You better get cleaned up, boy. We have to sign them NDAs in an hour.” Rusty glances up from his order form. “One hour. That’s when all this officially begins. No more of your shenanigans.”
I smile and cup my hand over his. “Understood. I’m going to do some shade and shelter checks, and I’ll see you back at the lodge.”
“This contest is a good thing,” Rusty insists.
“You don’t have to tell me more than fifty times. I’m getting the picture.”
I’m the last to arrive to the conference room, where Rusty and Topper sit next to Roxanne, Allie, and Leo, all of them already buried in paperwork.
Allie slides a thick stack across the table toward me. I blink down at the color-coded tabs and personalized name labels, the works.
“You’re joking,” I say.
“I know, right? So much paper,” she says brightly. “But that’s your packet. NDA, waiver, consent to film, emergency contact forms, plus the media interview agreement. I know it seems like a lot, but I promise we’ll make this as painless as possible.”
My mouth forms a half smile as I flip through it like I might still find a way out of this. Every page feels heavier than it should. This is it—the official opening Firebird Ranch to the outside world, putting our people and our mission under a spotlight.
I settle into my chair and pick up a pen then try to read the fine print. There’s no choice now, though, so I might as well lock it all in. Forty-seven minutes later, almost all the papers are signed.
The only thing left is the interview consent form. Everyone who agrees to be interviewed has to fill one out. Topper and Rusty get theirs done right away. I glance at mine, then slide it into my back pocket instead. Not sure I want her uncovering what I’ve worked so hard to forget.
As everyone rises from the table and collects their assorted documents, Roxanne turns to Rusty.
“Mr. Wheaton,” she says. “Do you have a business office here where I can use my laptop? I noticed the Wi-Fi connection is spotty here at the lodge.”
“Only strong Wi-Fi is at the caretaker’s house, and you are more than welcome to use it anytime you need.”
“Oh, uh, I think it’s been down, though,” I interject as I’m halfway out the door. “Yeah, Wi-Fi is out at the house.”
“It works fine, ma’am,” Rusty corrects. “In fact, the library would be the perfect, quiet place for you to work.”
“I tend to write in the late-night hours,” Roxanne says. “I don’t want to disturb anyone.”
“Library closes at 8,” I snap, too fast.
Roxanne puts her hands up. “Never mind. I don’t want to be a bother, especially since it’s your house.”
Rusty cuts in before I can respond. “Technically, Duke and I share the house office space. I say, you’re welcome anytime, ma’am.”
“Oh.” She glances between us. “In that case… thank you.”
“I can show you around the house tomorrow,” Rusty says.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” She smiles politely, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, and I have to look away. I leave to get ready for dinner before I start staring again.
After cleaning up, I head back to the lodge early to help Thatcher finish prepping in the kitchen, and by the time we start walking about with the wine we’re serving with dinner, the space has filled up with happy faces ready to enjoy the evening.