Chapter 8 #2
“Daisy.” The word comes out steady. Bored, even. Which is a goddamn miracle considering what the fuck is happening in my chest.
“I’ve interviewed Old Dave, Miguel, Sarah, and both of your brothers.
” She pushes off from the fence and walks toward me, closing the distance I’ve been carefully maintaining.
“June and Maggie have been impossible to pin down—something about a wedding in Bozeman and a colicky horse in Helena. And Marcus is on your schedule, not mine.” She tilts her head, a smile toying at the edges of her lips. “Which just leaves you.”
“Been busy.”
“I noticed. And before you count this morning as a conversation, a man nearly flattening me with a saddle and then running away doesn’t qualify as an interview.”
“I didn’t run.”
“You were in the paddock before I finished my sentence.” She stops a few feet away—too close, not close enough—and I can see the amber flecks in her brown eyes.
“But that’s just the latest example. You’ve been like this all week, Wyatt.
Almost like you’ve got a sixth sense for when I’m nearby and somewhere else to be. ”
There’s no accusation in her voice. But underneath the lightness, there’s a flicker of hurt she’s trying to cover with humor.
It makes me feel like a complete asshole.
“Ranch doesn’t run itself.”
“Mmm.” She’s not buying it. “So it’s just a coincidence that every time I walk toward the barn, you’re suddenly needed at the south pasture. And when I head to the stables, you’ve got urgent business in your office.”
“Sounds like you’ve been keepin’ track of my schedule.”
“Journalist.” She taps her temple. “I notice patterns.”
I should walk away. Give her a time, keep it short, get back to work.
“And what patterns have you noticed?” The words come out before I can stop them—lower than I intended, closer to a challenge than a question.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The late afternoon sun slants gold across her face, catching the amber in her eyes.
“The kind that could make a girl feel unwelcome.” There’s no teasing this time. Just honesty. And her words land like a blow. Because she thinks I don’t want her here.
She has no idea that wanting her here is exactly my problem.
My hand twitches at my side—the same hand that hovered an inch from her skin four hours ago.
“Friday.” I step back before this goes somewhere it shouldn’t. “Meeting Marcus tomorrow.”
“About the quarterly projections. West mentioned.” She chews her bottom lip as she nods slowly. “He also said Marcus would be a good interview. Knows the financial history of Glacier Ridge better than just about anyone.”
“He does.” I nod sharply, grateful for the change in direction. “I’ll ask if he can meet with you tomorrow after our meeting in town.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Then she arches a playful brow. “So Friday for you, hmm? Gives you two more days to practice your avoidance tactics.”
“I’m not avoidin’ you.”
Not well, anyway.
“You’re absolutely avoiding me, Wyatt.” She grins even as the sound of my name on her lips hits me somewhere it shouldn’t. “The question is why. I’m very charming. Ask anyone.”
I pull off my hat, run a hand through my hair, and settle it back in place. “Charmin’ ain’t the word I’d use, Daisy-girl.”
“No?” She steps closer. “What word would you use?”
Dangerous. Distracting. The reason I haven’t slept properly in a goddamn week.
“Persistent,” I state flatly.
She laughs, that real laugh, warm and bright, and I feel my mouth threaten to twitch, but I clamp down on the urge.
Of course she catches it anyway, and her eyes light up like she’s won the lottery.
“Was that almost a smile?”
“No.”
“That was definitely something. A twitch. A micro-expression. Something.”
“I reckon you’re seein’ things.”
“I have excellent observational skills. It’s literally my job.
” She’s stepped even closer without me noticing.
Close enough to smell that shampoo again.
I should’ve walked away before she closed the gap.
I didn’t learn a damn thing at noon. “I’m going to make you smile before I leave, Wyatt Hartley. Consider it my secondary assignment.”
She states it like it’s a fact. Like she’s decided it’ll only be a matter of time.
“You’ll be disappointed.” I shift my weight back, putting another inch of air between us and her scent.
“I’m never disappointed. I’m tenacious.” She closes the gap I just made, her chin tipping so far back to hold my gaze that it’s a wonder she doesn’t lose her balance.
The top of her head doesn’t even reach my shoulder, and she’s staring me down like she’s got sixteen inches on me instead of the other way around. “Friday, then. I’ll bring coffee.”
“I don’t need—”
“It wasn’t a question.” She smiles again, softer this time, and it’s somehow worse than the grin. “See you then, Wyatt.”
She turns and walks back toward the cabin, her ponytail swinging with each step.
I watch her go, utterly unable to make myself look away.
She’s trying to make me smile. That’s what this is. Some kind of game, some challenge she’s set to keep herself amused during her stay. Get the grumpy rancher to crack.
I should find it annoying. I do find it annoying.
But underneath the annoyance is something infinitely worse.
Hope.
Five days. She’s been back five days, and I’m already white-knuckling it. That’s the whole goddamn problem with Daisy Monroe. She doesn’t even know what she does to a man, and she never will.
I’ll make damn sure of it.