Chapter Five
Letty
I'm fully prepared for Walker to show up in my kitchen again to give me grief about the hot sauce I put on his tacos—not my finest moment, but the man is infuriating. So I'm not the least surprised when I hear heavy steps behind me while I'm up to the elbows in hot, sudsy water.
"How were your tacos?" I ask sweetly, not even bothering to turn around. If I do, I'll just remember how hot he is, and then I'll feel guilty for the ghost pepper sauce I added to his.
"Fucking delicious," an unfamiliar voice growls.
I spin with a startled gasp, flinging dishwater everywhere. The man standing behind me isn't Walker. He's also way too close for comfort, eyeing me like I'm a steak.
"Uh…hi," I mutter, wiping my hands on my apron. "Can I help you?"
"I came to help you." He gives me what I assume he thinks is a charming smile, but it doesn't land as intended. Not when his eyes are lingering on my tits. "Toby Jackson." He holds out a hand toward me. "You shouldn't be cleanin' up after us all by yourself."
I debate whether I want to shake his hand or not.
There's nothing overtly threatening about him, just a vibe that he's not here for altruistic purposes.
Shaking his hand will only encourage him, and that's the last thing I need.
Walker already thinks I'm a distraction and a problem.
I do not want to give him a single reason to believe he's right.
I quickly decide I'm not shaking his hand, and I'm not letting him stay, either. But I don't get a chance to send him on his merry way before the devil himself strolls into my kitchen.
Great. Just freaking great.
Walker takes one look at the cowboy standing in front of me, and his expression turns downright arctic. "Jackson," he growls. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"
Toby slowly turns to look at Walker. "Oh, hey, Jessup." He shoots him a lazy grin. "Just came to see if Letty could use some help cleaning up."
"Right," Walker says, his tone flat. "And how many times were you in here, asking Abel that question when he was cooking for you?"
"Uh…" Toby's confident expression slips.
"Get the fuck out of her kitchen," Walker growls, drawing himself to his full height. "And don't let me catch you in here again."
"Yes, sir." Toby shoots me a look that's part determination and part frustrated pride, making my heart sink. He'll be back again.
Great. Just great.
Walker doesn't move out of his way, forcing him to squeeze past.
"I could have handled him," I mutter as soon as I'm sure he's out of earshot.
I expect another reminder that I'm just a distraction or something equally as infuriating. Instead, Walker just shrugs. "Yeah, I know. Now, you don't have to handle him." He cocks his head to the side, eyeing me. "You need help?"
I blink at him. "You're offering to do dishes?"
"I work on a ranch, Sunshine. You think I don't know how to get my hands dirty?"
"No, I just…"
"The sooner you're done, the sooner I can go to bed."
I swear, as soon as I start to think maybe he's human, he opens his mouth again and reminds me that he's the biggest jerk on the planet. I scowl at him before turning back to the sink.
He watches me for several long moments before I hear him moving around behind me. I don't turn around to see what he's doing, but I think he's washing down the counters. At least, that's what it sounds like.
"Dinner was delicious tonight," he mutters a few minutes later.
I actually turn to look at him this time. "What?"
"Dinner was delicious."
Oh, he is such a liar!
"Good to know," I say, my tone flat. If he's trying to coax me into confessing what I did, hell will freeze over first. I'm already mad that he annoyed me into doing it in the first place. I ruined perfectly good food just to spite him. That's a sin in my book.
"Where'd you learn to cook?"
"By living."
"I'm serious, Letty. Where'd you learn?"
"I went to culinary school for two semesters," I say begrudgingly.
"Didn't graduate?"
"Couldn't continue." I attack a cookie sheet with a sponge. "My dad got sick and needed someone to care for him. I was the only Alvarez left to do the job."
"What about your mom?"
"Dead."
"No siblings?"
"Two brothers. One is overseas."
"Where's the other?" he asks.
I hesitate for a long time before sighing. "Prison for drug trafficking."
"Shit. I'm sorry."
I shrug without looking at him. "He knew the consequences."
"How long is he in for?"
I rinse the pan and place it carefully on the rack before turning to him.
He's leaning against the counter behind me, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on me.
"Why do you want to know? So you can run and tell the Carringtons that they made a mistake hiring me?
You already made your opinion on that clear, Walker. "
"That's not—"
"I can finish up here by myself. Feel free to scamper off to bed."
"Scamper off to bed?" His brows pull together before he mutters a curse and saunters toward me.
He's hot all the damn time, but he's something else entirely when he's looming over me, looking like he isn't sure whether he wants to kiss me or spank me.
"I'm going to let that fiery little attitude slide because I pissed you off," he murmurs, hooking a finger beneath my chin so I'm forced to meet his steely gaze.
"But keep it up, and you're going to learn exactly what I'm thinking about doing in that bed.
Believe me, Sunshine. Scampering isn't part of it. "
I open my mouth to say…something…but he doesn't give me the chance before he leans down, brushing his lips against mine in a hard kiss. I don't mean to whimper, but I do anyway.
His tongue flicks my bottom lip before he groans softly.
"You taste a helluva lot better than the goddamn hot sauce you put on my tacos, Letty," he growls and then takes a step back, his expression searing me.
"I'll wait in the mess hall for you to finish so I can walk you back to your place for the night. "
"Walker, that's not…" He catches my gaze, and my protest dies in my throat. "Thank you."
Ispend all night tossing and turning, thinking about his kiss and the look in his eye immediately before. By the time my alarm goes off, I'm exhausted, cranky, and a little irrational. I've also decided that Walker Jessup is a big problem.
How dare he kiss me after telling me that I'm a distraction, a problem, a lamb to the slaughter, and everything else? The problem on this ranch isn't me. It isn't the other cowboys, either. It's him.
He is such a hypocrite!
As soon as my feet touch the floor, I stomp to the desk and write out the equivalent of a war declaration before tacking it to my front door.
No Grumps Allowed
(This means you, Walker)
I need the reminder that he's the enemy. Maybe it'll keep me from doing something completely stupid, like inviting him inside so I can climb him.
I spend half my morning cursing his name while I prep breakfast, trying to convince myself that I don't actually want him.
I'm convinced I've succeeded…right up until he strolls into my kitchen, looking as wildly perfect as he did last night.
My heart flutters, and all my hard work goes right down the drain.
"How long until breakfast?" he asks by way of greeting.
I scowl daggers at him. "It'll be ready when it's ready, Walker Jessup. Do I go into your fields and ask you how long until the cow is milked or the bull is castrated?"
His lips twitch. "Sunshine."
"You know, I'm beginning to think rude is your default setting. Were you a rodeo cowboy before? I bet you probably got bucked off a horse a few too many times and it addled your brains."
"I'm not askin' to be rude, Sunshine. I'm askin' because you've got a mess hall full of eager cowboys out there, and when I walked in, they were all lined up at the kitchen door, fighting over who gets the first place."
"I…What? Are you serious?" I blink at him.
"I'm trying to forestall a riot."
"Jesus Christ." I scrub a hand down my face. "I need like ten more minutes."
"I'll make sure you get it." He saunters toward the door, then pauses, glancing back over at me. "And good morning. You look beautiful. I hope you slept well."
I show him my teeth. "Like a baby."
"I just bet you did." He pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket before unfolding it.
My stomach sinks. Crap.
"No grumps allowed," he reads. "This means you, Walker." One brow arches, his smirk downright deadly. "You tryin' to convince me, or yourself that you don't want me in your space, Sunshine?"
"Put my sign back, Walker."
"Nah, I think I'll keep it."
"You're an asshole."
His laughter is as hot as it is infuriating…which is probably why, once everything is done and on trays, I make his plate for him. And I add extra salt to everything. A lot of it.
If he croaks at the breakfast table, I'm having a party.