Page 9 of The Fugitive Cowboy's Baby
Any time Kat approached a challenge for which she had no strategy, rather than sit and think it through, she had a tendency to jump in and figure it out later. So, the following morning, rather than sit and overthink the ideas knocking around in her head, she decided to go to the store and buy some supplies. The problem with doing things this way was that she often wound up in the deep end of the pool with no idea how to get back out again.
Right now, the hardware store was her deep end of the pool. She realized, with a groan, that she had no idea what needed replacing at the ranch. That morning, she’d thought that something she knew she could do to help out was shop for supplies. But there didn’t seem to be a clearly labeled aisle for ranching stuff at this particular hardware store. She slapped her own forehead, realizing how stupid she probably looked. But, like always, right before she lost her nerve, her instincts kicked in.
She thought about the resources she knew she had. There was Tony, who could easily assist with supplies. All she had to dowas hand him the cash to do so. There was the barn and the few animals left on the ranch. “Wiring,” she muttered, remembering she wanted better lighting in the barn. “Where is electrical?”
“Five aisles down,” answered an arrogant-sounding voice from behind her. “But you’ll want a permit if you’re rewiring. Do you have one?” The way he asked made it obvious he didn’t think she did. He was right, of course, but that was hardly the point.
She whirled around to see the man behind her, standing with his arms folded and his head cocked. He was staring at her like she was a specimen he was scrutinizing. She didn’t appreciate the way he watched her at all. She wanted to ignore the disrespect she sensed in his gaze, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. The problem was that, appearance-wise,hewas a borderline perfect specimen of a man. He was tall with sandy hair, light stubble, and bright blue eyes. A cowboy hat topped his head and gave him a romantic look that didn’t seem to match his personality at all.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she murmured. “But thanks, I guess.”
He grinned at her and let his arms drop to his sides. “You didn’t need to ask. The expression on your face spoke loud and clear.”
“And what is it my face said to you so clearly? If it wasn’tgo away, then you misinterpreted.”
His smile didn’t even waver. “Hm, well. Your face says you don’t even know why you’re here. You look like a lost kitten. Are you sure this is the store you need? There’s a craft store across the street that might be more your speed.”
Kat rolled her eyes at the front he was clearly putting up. “Aren’t you a peach,” she said sarcastically. “For your information, acraft store wouldn’t do me any good. I’m trying to renovate a ranch.”
His brows rose at that. He clearly hadn’t expected her to have a real reason to be here. But then he looked into her cart and burst out laughing. “What’s this then?” He picked up the hammer in her cart. She’d grabbed it because she figured she’d need it to repair the goat enclosure.
“That’s called ahammer.” She spoke slowly, as though she was explaining tools to a child. “You can hit nails with it. That’s what makes them go in.”
The man holding her hammer snorted. “Oh, she’s a spicy one, is she? Hissing at everyone who offers to help.”
“Only because you’re being so condescending,” Kat answered.
“I can’t help it,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve got a hammer with a pink handle?—”
“Ergonomically designed for female hands, you sexist weirdo.”
Her insult didn’t even faze him. His eyes fell on the other four products in her cart. “And are those decorative flower pots?”
“Are you saying a ranch can’t be attractive?” she snapped. “I happen to live there, too, you know. I’d like to feel at home in my own house. Honestly, guys like you are so frustrating sometimes. You act like you know everything, but you have nothing to back it up.”
“Correct me then,” he said with an even cockier grin than before. “I love being corrected by beautiful women.”
Kat felt her cheeks burn at his compliment, and she wanted to slap herself. Was she really going to let this man get to her? Evenif he was physically her exact type, he was clearly a jerk. A bad personality could eclipse a perfect body all too easily. “What if I don’t want to correct you?”
“You won’t be able to help yourself,” he said, setting the hammer she’d grabbed back on a shelf. Then he took hold of the front end of her cart and started wheeling it away with her following behind it. “Come on. I’ll show you where the nail guns are.”
“Hey, I wanted that hammer.”
The unfortunately charming man pretended not to hear. “So,” he began as they walked, “let me guess. You’re not from around here.”
“Wrong.” Kat lifted her chin. “So wrong. I was born and raised in this very town. My uncle owned the ranch before he left it to me. He chose me over both my brothers because he knew I could handle it.”
“You just corrected me.” He briefly grinned back at her, and she noticed he actually had deep dimples under that stubble. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help it,” he said. Kat smiled to herself but dropped it as soon as he looked her way again. By the look on his face, she hadn’t dropped her smile in time. “Next assumption from me,” he said. “Even if you were born and raised here, you haven’t lived here in a while.”
He led her down another aisle, and they stopped in front of a selection of nail guns. “What makes you say that?” Kat asked, actually curious this time.
“Your clothes,” he answered with a shrug. “They’re way too fancy for a small town like this.”
Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows at him. “I’m wearing jeans?—”
“Designer,” he interrupted to add. “Artfully torn.”
She rolled her eyes and went on. “And boots.”
