Page 10 of The Fugitive Cowboy's Baby
“High-heeled boots.” He smirked.
“And a plain, button-down shirt.” She gestured to the shirt in question.
He barely fought to hold back a smile. “Let me guess. It’s dry clean only.”
“Wrong again, mister.” She was maybe a little too excited to correct him this time. “Delicate wash. Hang to dry.”
“Practically dry clean only.”
“Not even a little bit.” She laughed and had to remind herself that this man had a terrible personality despite his gorgeous appearance.Don’t give in to his charms, she ordered herself. “So where do you think I came from, then?”
“Some big city or other.” He paused and thought about it while analyzing the nail guns. She wanted to be angry, but the fact that he was taking the time to choose one for her made it difficult to stay mad. “I’m gonna say San Antonio.”
“Ha!” She nudged him playfully. “Wrong again. I came from Houston.”
“And look at all this personal information I’m wringing out of you. You’re lucky I’m not some identity-stealing con artist.” When he said that, her smile dropped, and he seemed to realize he’d gone a bit too far. He quickly picked a product and dropped it into her cart. “Don’t tell me anything else. I already knowthe rest anyway.” He gave her a long look and cracked that grin again. “You were working at some big-shot job, but as a former small-town girl, you never quite felt like you fit in. Every morning, you’d get up, slick back your hair into a low ponytail or a tight bun; put on your pencil skirt, blouse, and jacket; and look into the mirror to put your makeup on, wondering where you went wrong in your life.”
Was he psychic or something? Or was she just that obvious? Either way, it was disrespectful. She stared down at the nail gun in her cart. “I may be a city girl now, but I grew up out here, and I can figure out a ranch. I have an experienced ranch hand to help me out.”
“Just one?”
“For now.”
“What are you selling?” he asked.
“Huh?” She narrowed her eyes at him, not quite certain what he was asking.
He clarified. “Meat? Dairy? Eggs?”
She shrugged.
With an infuriating half-smile, he asked her, “Have you ever milked a cow?”
“We don’t have cows,” she said. “Yet.”
“Do your own farrier care?” He arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
“What?”
Once again, he had to clarify. “Hoof care, for the horses. Do you have horses?”
Kat frowned. “Just one.”
“One horse. One hand. Sounds like a lucrative venture.”
“You know what?—”
“Have you fixed a fence yet?”
She perked up at the mention of a fence, despite her desire to slap the man in front of her. “Oh, that was on my to-do list, actually.” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her list to check for other things she may have forgotten about while she was awkwardly making her way through the hardware store. “And the front gate.”
“So, you need lumber,” he said. “How much?”
Kat cleared her throat. “Um… Well, the gate’s about this wide.” She spread her arms as wide as she could and took several steps in one direction to double the distance she indicated. “And the broken fence is…” She thought about it a bit. “It’s about the length of an aisle here?”
The cocky man in front of her burst out laughing. “Is that all?” He shook his head. “Lady, you need to learn to use a measuring tape.” Ten seconds later, he’d casually tossed a brand-new measuring tape into her cart and started pulling it by the front end in the direction of the lumber.
“Hey now!” Kat said. “I didn’t ask for help.”
