Page 5 of Then You Happened
Since when do I listen to warnings, though?
“I’m here for the job.”
I don’t know what I expected Tatum Knox to look like, but when she steps into the open doorway of the house, it definitely isn’t this: petite, wary . . . goddamn gorgeous.
Her spine straightens so that all five foot nothing of her stands proud while her eyes, those light-gray eyes narrow and look me up and down. They also tell me to go to hell.
“You wouldn’t last a week here. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Her words are a lie. She knows it. I know it. The callouses on my hands and my more-than-impressive resume prove I’m a hard worker and know what I’m doing, but fuck if I’m going to call her on it when I really don’t care.
I’m here to follow through on the impulsive phone call I made after one too many beers and to say I made a concerted effort.
That, and to satisfy my curiosity about the type of person she is.
“Tatum Knox, I presume?”
“Last time I checke
d.”
“Humph.” I laugh the sound without any amusement. Wisps of her caramel-color hair have fallen from her ponytail and move with the breeze around her face. Her high-cut cheekbones, button nose, and heart-shaped mouth are delicate, but her eyes scream distrust and dislike.
Seems we have something in common then.
“Jack Sutton.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why’d you ask who I was?” I snort in dismay. “I assume you remembered that you’re the one who asked me to come, right?”
She takes her time moving her hand to her waist and leaning her other hip against the doorframe that dwarfs her. Her eyes home in on me and judge and dismiss.
“Yeah, well, chalk it up to a rare moment of weakness. I won’t let it happen again.” The way she wears her clothes—denim and flannel—might look the part in Texas, but the posture beneath them and the hint of New England accent scream affluence.
So does the way she looks down at me as if I’m not worthy of breathing the same air as her. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“No worries there.” I take a step back, irritated at myself for expecting more than I’m getting and for thinking that showing up at the ranch was going to fix all the shit in my head. In reality, taking one look at her had done nothing but piss me off and made the envelope folded in my pocket that much heavier. “By the looks of your ranch, it seems that what I’ve heard is true and that moments of weakness are all you seem to have.”
“And you wonder why I told you to leave?” she all but shouts as she takes a step toward me, anger lighting up her features. “I don’t hire people who run their mouths in the Lone Star rumor mill. You’ve been in town, what? A whole three days, and they’ve already gotten to you. Thanks, but no thanks. I like people I can trust working for me.”
“I’m not the one whose integrity is in question,” I say, her wince telling me the barb hit its mark and giving me the reason behind her hostility. That she knows and doesn’t like what people in town say about her.
I wouldn’t either if I were her because none of it is flattering in the least.
And yet, after hearing every last juicy tidbit of it, I still showed up today. Here I stand, trying to find some kind of redemption for myself when I’m pretty sure there isn’t any to be had.
For the briefest of moments, I feel guilty for being a dick and for taking my anger out on her when she has nothing to do with it.
Then again, it’s not as if she’s all smiles and sunshine either.
Fuck.
With a sigh and a resignation of my temper and impatience, I shake my head. Let’s try this again.
“From the looks of your ranch, you need me.”
“I don’t need anyone.” A half-cocked smile tilts up her lips.
