by Jeannie Watt
He pulled in a breath. Her muscles were taut beneath his grip, light as it was. She could have easily moved away, but she didn’t. She finally pulled her gaze from his mouth, her expression shifting ever so slightly as she met his eyes, then reached up to touch his face as he’d touched hers in the SUV the day she’d taken him to the doctor. Her fingers moved over his cheekbone, trailed down his jaw, brushed lightly over his lips, making his nerves sing and his dick jump.
She leaned closer. “If we kiss—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence, didn’t wait for her to set goals or outline parameters. He made the if a reality, releasing her arm and sliding his hand around the back of her neck as he brought his mouth down to hers.
Taylor gasped against his lips, even though she’d known the kiss was coming—maybe because she felt the same surge of raw need that he did as their mouths melded together and their tongues met. And what should have been a test-the-waters kiss became a long, deep exploratory kiss. One that had the blood pounding in his veins and his hands skimming over her body before he pulled her more tightly against him. He raised his head briefly, then went back for more. Taylor met him halfway as reality blurred. Dynamite in his hands.
When he raised his head for the second time, Taylor’s lips clung to his and her eyes remained closed, as if she were savoring, keeping the moment for as long as she could. When she opened her eyes, she stepped back, putting space between them that seemed more like a chasm than a few feet of gravel. A slight frown drew her brows together as she lightly pressed her fingers against her lips, as if checking for damage, which only made him want to kiss her again.
“Aren’t you going to say that you didn’t see that coming?” she asked in a low voice.
He shook his head. Kissing Taylor had been inevitable. Like it or not, even when he’d thought she was a princess through and through, he’d been drawn to her. At first, he’d assumed it was wanting what was off-limits. Now he knew what he felt toward her was more complex, harder to define. Troublesome.
“No. That was the reason I was trying to push you away.”
“Well,” she said, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans, as if she’d just finished a tough job, “you should have worked harder at that.”
“It was the thick skin you mentioned. Things seem to bounce off you.”
“At least it appears that way,” she said before clearing her throat. “I have to do my networking.”
Of course she did. Kiss and move on.
But Cole didn’t see this being a done deal. He couldn’t help but think that it was a good thing she was going...and that working with her was going to be a hell of a lot more interesting.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TAYLOR HEADED BACK to the bunkhouse, taking care not to walk too fast. Not to look too affected.
Holy smoke, but that guy could kiss.
This is no big deal. Get your breath. How many times had she kissed a guy and they’d gone their separate ways, no harm, no foul?
Many.
How many times had she done it when she’d had to interact with the guy on a daily basis? None. She’d taken the maxim about not getting involved with coworkers seriously, so maybe that was why this felt different.
He isn’t a coworker.
But still...
A one-time deal. That was all this was. Shake it off. If he thought it was more...well, she’d set him straight.
She let herself into the bunkhouse and settled at the computer, checked her email, researched possible contacts, noted that the market was tightening even more, damn her luck.
There was a text from Carolyn waiting on her phone—a selfie of her and her new beau with a glacier behind them. Carolyn looked happy, and Taylor smiled at the photo. Carolyn sought out relationships the same way that Taylor had avoided them. Depend on yourself, her mother had told her at least five or six times a week as she was growing up. Depend on yourself and you’ll be happier and more secure than if you depend on others.
Cecilia had lived her life that way. She’d been in a relationship with her artist husband, Jess, for almost a decade, but it was on her terms. He was the one who adjusted when compromise was necessary. In Taylor’s mind, it didn’t seem like a healthy way to run a relationship, but they seemed happy, at least on the surface. Surely Jess had to be going a little crazy, always bending and giving?
When Taylor was in a relationship—and usually she was not—she did fine in the beginning, but when it came to adapting and changing, the fear factor kicked in. What if she changed, gave up what was important to her, and then the deal crumbled? Where would she be then?
What if she couldn’t get back what she’d given up, or if she lost a piece of herself?
Getting through the divorce, and her father’s death, and now being fired, she felt as if she’d lost enough of herself.
So where did that leave her with Cole?
Excellent question. The pooling of sensual warmth in her midsection at the thought of that crazy-hot kiss was probably not a good sign—especially when she couldn’t say she didn’t want more. Sure, it was threatening, but it was also heady, and she wasn’t about to run or hide.
Taylor got to her feet and went to the small window over the sink, studied the house where Cole was now...what? Analyzing what had just happened? Or had he pushed it out of his mind?
If he could do that, he was tougher than she was.
And he wasn’t.
Taylor pushed off the sink, rolling her shoulders, which had stiffened up. So she’d kissed him. Whatever.
And, with that, she was right back to where she’d been when she’d crossed the drive from the house to the bunkhouse. And that was exactly where she was going to stay.
No. Big. Deal.
She had an interview to prepare for, and she needed to tidy up and get her equilibrium back. Act as if a big bump hadn’t appeared in the road in front of her.
* * *
AND THAT WAS one decent interview.
Taylor leaned back in the kitchen chair and stretched after the video call had ended. She’d done well, considering the fact that she’d still been off-kilter—thank you, Cole—when the call had connected. But she’d managed to get her hair and makeup done before the call, and had slipped into a dark suit jacket, so all in all she’d been prepared.
And if she got the job...maybe she and Cole could have a last hurrah. Pursue this matter between them.
Taylor pushed her chair back. Not wise. Not when he was living in her grandfather’s place.
Half an hour later she heard the barn door roll open and looked out the window. Cole was feeding the calves without her. Because of the kiss, or because he knew she had an interview?
The latter. It had to be. He probably wanted to move on as much as she did. No sense making things more uncomfortable than they needed to be while they were stuck together. The best thing to do would be to forget the kiss had ever happened.
When she met up with Cole at the barn a few minutes later, he seemed to be on board. There was nothing self-conscious in the way he greeted her or handed her the grain bucket. Together they walked to the calf pen, and if Taylor was more aware of him than usual, tuned into his every move, that was biology in action. Fortunately, she had a brain able to overcome the pitfalls of primal biological responses. She was in control of this situation, not her lady parts.
“How was the interview?”
“I think it went well. It’s a company in Ellensburg, Washington. Close to home.”
“Ah.”
The calves mobbed them, and Cole helped create a space for her to feed first one calf, then the next, without getting knocked down by the hungry trio. When the last bottle was empty and all the calves were picking at hay in the feeder, Cole opened the gate and stood back for her to pass. She was
barely through when he said, “So. That kiss.”
Her startled gaze met his. “What about it?” She stepped back so that he could come through and lock the gate. “It happened. We don’t need to dissect it.”
An odd expression crossed his face. “Wait...the queen of analysis doesn’t want to analyze?”
“Maybe that is the result of my analysis.”
“You don’t want input from your research assistant?” There was no humor in his voice.
“What could you possibly say that I don’t already know, or haven’t already concluded?”
He leaned his shoulder on the fence post next to him, studying her with those green eyes until she felt like shifting her weight, folding her arms. Moving. She didn’t. But it wasn’t easy. Why wasn’t he instantly agreeing with her to move on?
Suddenly the situation, which she’d hoped to blow off, was once again edging into threatening territory, and she wasn’t going to have that.
“I analyzed,” she said finally. “And came to the conclusion that, yes, there’s chemistry. But we would be foolish to act on it. Not when we’re living as we are. You were right, we don’t want to complicate our lives.”
He considered her words and then gave a slow nod. “Fair enough.”
“It makes sense. Besides—” she nudged a rock with her toe before looking back up at him “—I’m getting to the point where I don’t want to do you bodily harm on general principles, and why mess with that?”
“I see your point.”
She pushed her hands into her pockets. “Surely you see things the same way?” She hadn’t intended for the pleading note in her voice to be there.
“I...don’t want to screw up my lease,” he admitted.
“Right.” She felt a small measure of relief. “There is that potential.”
He cocked his head. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting to kiss you again.”
Taylor’s breath went shallow. The images that flooded her brain were unsettling. “I...don’t think that would be wise.”
“Because you’re feeling it, too?”
She gave him an impatient look. “Would I have kissed you back if I hadn’t ‘felt it’?”
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, drawing her eyes down to...there. She casually swept her gaze on over the gravel to her running shoes.
Dear heavens.
“So the next step is no step.”
Taylor let out a relieved breath. “Yes. Exactly.”
* * *
COLE WAS GOOD with the next step being no step. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of choice. The lady had spoken, and it would make their lives less complicated if they continued as they were.
But what were they?
More than acquaintances, but not quite friends. Friends felt comfortable together. When he was with Taylor, he was on edge. But he liked her.
His mouth tightened as he headed for his tractor, and he reflected that things would be a lot easier if he didn’t, but somehow the prickly princess had turned out to be a real person. One who called him on his bullshit. One who honestly did work her butt off when asked.
He’d read her wrong...or maybe she’d lightened up. Whatever the reason, this new Taylor was a double threat.
Double threats were never good.
A streak of white headed across the yard just as he got on the tractor, and with a low groan he climbed back off again. Chucky disappeared through the windbreak separating Karl’s place from the Clovendales’ pastures.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and called Mrs. Clovendale, who explained that her sister was no longer able to get around like she used to and Chucky was now a permanent resident of Clovendale Farms. But she’d certainly ask her husband to fix the hole that Chucky had escaped through.
Cole agreed that was a great idea and then dropped the phone back into his pocket. If his biggest concerns were a renegade poodle and Taylor, then his life was good.
Miranda was a potential concern, too, but she’d been quiet and as far as he knew hadn’t messed with Jancey lately. And he decided he should be grateful for that.
Why was Miranda so quiet?
He started the tractor and headed out to the fields, wishing he could just let things go. He didn’t trust Miranda. Taylor had probably worked with nutso people like his step-aunt. There had to be tons of egos and power maneuvers in the business world. When things smoothed out between them, when he didn’t feel the urge to touch her every time she got close to him, maybe he’d ask for insights...without going into a whole lot of detail about his ranch.
It was not only demoralizing, it was embarrassing.
Which was probably how Taylor had felt after losing her job when she’d made it the primary focus of her life.
But he wasn’t going to think about Taylor. Or Miranda. He was going to focus on weed control and seeing about getting water to the corners of his fields. At least that was a part of his life he could control.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING after the calf feeding, Cole told Taylor that he had work to do in the fields, then asked if she would mind clearing out the old tack room in the barn.
“I want to store seed in there, but it’s loaded with old tools and stuff. Most of it needs to be hauled away.”
“Sure.” She’d discovered that the work she hadn’t wanted to do made the days go by and kept her from obsessing over her job search. She missed dealing with numbers, plotting strategies and keeping her finger on the pulse of business operations, but found that she didn’t mind physical labor. It left her with a sense of satisfaction and beat staring at her computer or the four bunkhouse walls.
“It’s a dirty job, so if you want use of the tub—” he looked vaguely self-conscious “—just let me know.”
Use of the tub? Words she’d never thought she’d hear him say. Taylor frowned at him. “What brought this on?”
He rubbed his cheek. “Too many hours in the tractor.”
“Excuse me?”
He dropped his hand. “I was being a jerk about things when you first got here. There’s no reason you shouldn’t have access to the tub if you want.”
As if she could relax naked in hot water with him on the other side of the door.
“Thank you,” she said slowly. “I, uh, might take you up on it. If I had the house to myself.”
“I’m not moving into the bunkhouse.”
“I wasn’t talking permanently. I was only thinking that I’d have a better shot at relaxation if I was alone as opposed to hogging the bathroom.” Because Karl’s old house had only the one.
“Okay. The next time I have a night out, I’ll let you know.”
She allowed herself a smile. “I’m trying hard not to do a happy dance right now.”
“Tomorrow is poker night. I’ll be gone for a while.” He opened the barn door and set the grain bucket inside, then reached out to take the bottle bucket from Taylor.
“You have a poker night?”
“Karl’s friends. I’m taking his place. In return, they take my money.” He gave her a mock-innocent look. “Something wrong with that?”
“No...just that it seems to be at odds with your hermit persona.”
He rolled the barn door shut again with his good hand. “For the record, I’m not a hermit. I just like to choose when I spend time with people. For the past four years I haven’t been able to do that. I’ve not only had to spend time with them, I’ve had to pretend I’m happy doing it.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“I saddled horses, answered questions, refrained from rolling my eyes at the dumb ones.” He gave her a pointed look. “And for the record, there are dumb questions. I liked most of the guests, but...mostly I just wanted to disappear onto my part of the ranch and raise cows and hay.”
<
br /> “Why didn’t you?”
“The technicalities of a handshake agreement.”
Taylor frowned.
“I’ll explain it sometime.”
“Yeah?”
He stopped walking at the place where they would part ways. “Yeah.”
That was...surprising. She wasn’t certain she believed him, but the odd thing was that she wanted to believe him. “What’s stopping you from explaining right now?”
His gaze met hers. “I don’t know. Lack of whiskey, maybe?”
“That bad?”
He gave a short laugh. “No. It’s just...family business and I’m not a great sharer.”
Taylor slipped her thumbs into her back pockets and rocked back on her heels. “When I first met you, I had you pegged as working in the hospitality field.”
He looked almost insulted. “No kidding.”
“You were smooth and I could tell you’d worked with people. I would have guessed that you were a really good sharer. But as I get to know you better, you get rougher around the edges.” She cocked her head. “How does that work?”
“Public me. Real me.”
“You’re good at hiding ‘real you.’”
“Years of practice.”
“But you weren’t ‘public you’ with me for very long.”
“I found you threatening at first. On a number of fronts.”
Taylor lifted her eyebrows. “I find you threatening, too.”
“Yeah?” He easily followed the shift in the subject of conversation. “Still?”
“Things like this don’t dissipate overnight.” This being an attraction that could easily veer out of control. “It’s not that I’m not interested...but damn it, Cole, the timing is all wrong.”
“And you’re all about schedules.”
“At this juncture of my life, I’m all about caution and control. You’re screwing with both of those.”
* * *
TAYLOR HAD TO give Cole points for not messing with her caution and control over the next two days. In fact, she barely saw him. When she got up on Tuesday morning, ready to hit the boneyard, he was out in the field on his tractor. She found a note tacked to her door that read “No work today or tomorrow.”
