Page 9 of Then You Happened
“So the rumor mill is true, then. You won’t take qualified help even when it’s sitting on your front porch.”
“Qualified doesn’t mean quality.”
I just lift my brow and smirk at the dig. “Tell me something. Did you fire your help or did they quit?” That wipes the look off her face. “I have twenty bucks on they quit. I’ve been here no fewer than ten minutes, and you’ve insulted me more times than I care to count. I heard you were difficult to work for. Criticizing how someone does something when you don’t know how to do it yourself doesn’t exactly win you any respect. You have a smart mouth and a bad rep. Being easy on the eyes and having an Ivy League education doesn’t mean shit in a town like this . . . especially when you throw it around and look down upon those who have less.”
And almost as if on cue, a neigh sounds off in the distance. The sound of a familiar friend I can relate to in this hostile environment.
“I thought you said you didn’t listen to the rumors.”
“I don’t, but your pleasant personality isn’t doing much to dissuade them either.”
“Then why are you still standing here?” she asks.
Hell if I know.
I hate myself before I even utter the words. “So, when do I start?”
She shakes her head. “Insult me. Criticize me. Tell me you believe lies, and then you actually think I’m going to hire you? You’re out of your mind.”
“Insult me. Criticize me. Tell me you hate me after I’ve driven hundreds of miles to take the job offer. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?” Our glares hold and then all of a sudden, it clicks for me. “Ah, I get it. Hard to fire the help when you’re sleeping with him? Your boyfriend isn’t running the ranch now, is he?”
She fists her hands as her shoulders tense. “Not that it’s any of your business who I sleep with, but I’m not sleeping with the ranch manager. I don’t have one. The ranch manager is me. I’m her. I’m the lone employee!”
I blink for a few seconds as I try to digest her words. Words there’s no way I believe.
But I do.
Because when I look back at her, all I see is fire.
The fire and grit and determination of someone used to standing on their own with what feels like the world against them.
Beauty.
The fact that the harsh voice and haughty attitude on the phone would be owned by a woman who staggered me when she first walked into the doorway didn’t even pass through my mind when I decided to follow through on my promise.
Pain.
That definitely was not something I expected to see after listening to the people of Lone Star speak ill of her and make all the petty and catty comments.
But I know those kinds of rumors.
I should have known better than to believe them.
But the hurt and resentment I feel made it all that much easier to.
Shit.
Now what I had determined was going to be something I could walk up to, see for myself, and then leave, is gone.
Fuck.
And then almost as if she just realized what she’s admitted to, that she’s the failing employee, anger fires in her eyes as she shoves her finger over my shoulder, and grits out, “You can see yourself out.”
“You live out here all alone?” I ask and whistle. That’s a whole lot of loneliness for anyone this far from town.
“I have the horses to keep me company.”
