Harlequin Superromance September 2017 Box Set. Jeannie Watt
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“I’m here, Cole. Living in a shack. Doesn’t that smack of defeat?”
He pulled his hand away. Now that they were in the heat of battle, there was no way she was leaving. “It smacked of you expecting to kick me out of the house and get a free ride while you sorted things out.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted.” She didn’t sound one bit sorry. “To tell you the truth, it’s what I still want. I’m tired of the floor bumping under my feet and the wind whistling in through the window frame and having no bathtub, but you know what? I can deal.”
“Because you have no choice?” he asked softly.
“That’s the best reason to suck it up, don’t you think?” She gave a small sniff. “What happens if I refuse to help you?”
“Then I guess I kick you off the property.”
She let out a breath as she stared out the windshield at the bunkhouse. “That’s what I thought.”
Another silence fell, thick with tension. Finally, Cole gave in. “Of course, your grandfather will hate me because I’m messing with his princess.”
“There is that.” She didn’t look at him. Her eyes slowly closed, and she inhaled again, as if centering herself. Or trying to come up with ways to do him bodily harm.
The thing was, right now, he needed her. It was a good thing she was on the farm. The irony of their situation did not escape him.
“You have your six months. More if you need it.”
She sent him a sharp glance, waiting for the catch. “You’d do that for me?”
“I don’t want to.”
“How did you ever work on a guest ranch?”
“By not talking.” He reached out with his good hand to cup his palm against her cheek. Touching her again felt right, as did lightly running his thumb over her bottom lip when her mouth parted. He felt her breath catch, felt it when she slowly exhaled a split second later.
“The pain meds are making you act out of character,” she murmured.
“Not on pain meds.”
“Take the excuse,” she said lowly. Then she turned and reached for the door handle. Cole did the same, awkwardly climbing out of the SUV.
Taylor met him behind the SUV, her back very straight, her chin lifted as she said, “If you work my ass off, I want more than a shack in compensation.”
“What else could you possibly need?”
“Use of the washing machine so I don’t have to go to the Laundromat. And when you have your poker nights, I want bathtub privileges.”
“Not going to work, Evans.”
She frowned at him. “What?”
“First it’ll be the washer and the bathtub and then the entire house.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to be on your guard. Do we have a deal or not?”
He gave her a hard look. Waited for her to squirm. She didn’t.
“Deal.”
TAYLOR REFUSED TO allow herself to replay the conversation she’d had with Cole—not more than a couple of times anyway.
Did he feel sorry for her? After all, it had been a slam in the gut to expect the job, think that she was on her way out of the hole, then find out that she wasn’t. Was that why he was compromising with her?
Or was it simply a matter of needing her help? If so, it would be for only a few days. Why sign on for six months or more?
Maybe he needed more help than she was aware of, but that didn’t explain why he had touched her that second time. When he’d set his hand on her knee, it’d been to stop her from getting out of the SUV. It’d worked. She’d been so surprised that she probably couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. But when he touched her face…her lip…that had been different. A tentative move in a direction that she was sure he hadn’t considered taking up until that moment.
Her breath still went a little shallow when she thought about it.
Her instincts told her that a guy like Cole didn’t make those kinds of moves lightly. So what did he want?
She’d bet money that he didn’t know. She knew what he didn’t want—her on his farm, which led her back into her circle of thought. Maybe he’d finally realized that she was free help. Hard to beat that.
That was the theory she was going with. Free help. Any good businessman would accept free help.
Taylor put her fingers back on the keyboard. She had no qualms about earning her keep, but what did she know about farmwork? During the times she’d spent here with her grandparents, she’d done chores, but they’d been fun chores—harvesting from the garden, maybe pulling weeds with her grandmother. Nothing that would come close to earning her keep. What on earth would he have her doing? What was she capable of doing? Digging, hoeing…she had no idea.
She glanced down at her pearly pink nails. This was going to destroy her hands.
And since when have you been such a priss?
Working would also help fill her days when she wasn’t job hunting, and that was how she needed to look at the situation. Maybe working would also help her tamp down some of her residual anger. Give her something else to focus on. Even though what happened to her wasn’t that unusual in the world of business, it still irked her. The guy they’d hired instead of her was already showcased on the bank website newsletter. So despite the assurances that US West Bank was all about growing people within the company, the bank had chosen a local guy with far less experience than her…one who planned to stay in the community. As would most rural institutions. They would grow local people from the ground up, because those people would stay.
So what now?
She put her fingers back on the keyboard to bring up a search engine.
A different career? A return to school? More student debt?
No to all.
She loved what she did for a living…she used to anyway. She was good at it. She loved the dynamics of her industry. Had there been moments when she’d wondered if it was all worth it? Very few. She refused to allow herself to think such things or deviate from her chosen course. Yes, all the hours were worth it when she had a job with prestige in a city she loved.
Now she had no job and was living in a farm building.
What if she spent the rest of her life on this farm? What if she never got another job in her field?
What if she’d been blackballed?
What if she was thinking crazy thoughts out of stress and anxiety? She settled her hands in her lap as she stared blankly at her monitor. Maybe she was the one who needed to pop a couple of pain pills. An escape from reality would be lovely.
Or maybe she needed to reshape her reality. During the first weeks after being laid off, she’d been centered on anger. She was still angry, but she was also hurt. Devastated. Her confidence wasn’t entirely shattered, but it was shaken. She was questioning herself, wondering how this could have happened. Not once had her guidance counselors and mentors mentioned that hard work could lead to this. Or that hard work and advancement could make it difficult to get a lower-paying job.
She let out a sigh and got to her feet.
Maybe it was time to start focusing once again on what had happened between her and Cole this morning. At least that was a distraction.
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