Though Aidan Bellamy did. She wanted to hate him for now being the owner of the ranch she had her heart set on, and that warred with her attraction for him.
He’s not a love interest. He’s the owner of this ranch, and I work for him now. At least until she decided to mosey on down the road.
Unable to tolerate him standing there staring at her another minute, she turned to him, hand planted on her hip. “I’m not sure of the horses’ morning routine.”
“You’re doin’ just fine.”
Her stomach cartwheeled at his deep, throaty drawl that sounded as though he hadn’t yet shaken off the remnants of sleep. Her gaze latched onto his lips that minutes ago had been wrapped around her earlobe.
Biting down on her lip, she nodded. “Oh. Okay. I’m finished giving them all grain. What’s next?”
“I usually let them munch on that a while,” he paused to dip his eyes over her body, leaving behind a trace of heat equal to that of molten iron, “and I check on the other horses. When I’m finished with that, I come back here and lead all these horses to pasture.” Even the way he lifted the thermos to his mouth made him look hot.
She shot her attention to the cow. “She looks pretty sturdy on her feet today.”
“Yeah, she does. I woke twice in the night to check on her, but she seemed to be holding her own.”
Liberty rounded on him. “Do most ranchers spend the night with their animals?”
He arched a brow at the forceful delivery of her question. “Not unheard of. Though I don’t talk to many ranchers about such matters.”
“Yeah…” She chewed her lip a little. “Guess it’s not a topic that comes up.”
When he sauntered over to the stall, standing a mere foot from her, she had to clench her hand into a fist to keep from pressing her palm over that hard, muscled chest again and maybe even using her nails on it.
She didn’t even want to think about what was going on with her. She’d blame it on stress and not the gorgeous rancher who acted as if he hadn’t nearly ravished her while in a sleep state.
He tipped his thermos and swallowed more coffee. She tried to ignore the way his throat worked when he swallowed and to purge the scent of him from her memory. Leather, hay, pine, musk. In that order. Or maybe hay came first because he’d been sleeping on it?
She shook herself from the crazed urge to lean into him and sniff just to find out.
God, it was going to be a long day.
* * * * *
No denying that Liberty Baker had everything a man like Aidan admired. Brains, skill, drive…and a body men fought battles over. Hell, he was fighting one right now—with himself.
He twisted his gaze from her for the tenth time and swung it back to her for the eleventh. Something about watching her run that brush down the horse’s flank turned him on. Come to think of it, so did seeing her toned arms and ass flex as she mucked out the stalls. Or spread them with clean bedding.
But seeing her drive his front end loader equipped with a round bale had gripped him by the balls.
She patted the horse’s side and said, “Good job,” as if the horse had done a thing to make himself look pretty. She swung her stare his way. “Does this horse have a name?”
“Horse.”
Her long lashes raised and lowered for a full thirty seconds while she blinked at him.
“That’s it? Horse?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what’s that one’s name?” She pointed toward the mare standing near the fence.
“Horse.”
She rolled her eyes. “How creative.”
What was it about getting sassed by a woman he hardly knew that made him want to burst out laughing?
“I’ve named a few of my horses,” he defended.
“Yeah? Which ones?”
“Stella over there.” He pointed to a horse in the rear corner of the pasture.
“Okay, that’s one out of how many?”
He opened his mouth to say he supposed she’d name all her horses on her own ranch, but snapped it shut before the words slipped free. He had no desire to rub salt in her wounds, especially when she seemed so good-natured about this turn of events. Not to mention the fact she worked harder than most men.
She led the horse she just groomed into the pasture once more. When she returned for the brush, he couldn’t help but note the full spread of her hips. Ever since she’d ended up on top of him early this morning in the barn, he wanted to grab her again.
He closed his eyes on the images snapping through his brain. That had been a mistake. Dreaming of the woman and pulling her down with him had gotten all tangled up in his mind, and well, it wouldn’t happen again.
“If you don’t need anything else done right now, I’m going to get cleaned up and head to town for some groceries. I thought we could keep that part of our deal separate. I’ll buy my food, you buy yours.”
Raising his head from the task of checking the hoof of the horse he worked on, he grunted. “Sounds fine. I plan to make a trip before evening chores.”
She contemplated him for a moment. “Okay. See ya later.”
Long after she walked away, he still zeroed in on her, picturing her stripping off her barn clothes and showering. And how she’d tasted when he latched onto her earlobe. His cock began to swell again, and he nudged his fly to arrange it into a better fit.
While awkward moments still arose between them, he thought they were getting along pretty darn well for only being acquainted a day. She could be bitter and angry about him winning the Windswept, but she’d jumped into dealing with sick cattle and adopted every chore as her own in a short time.
What was her story, anyway? He wondered if anyone in town knew her.
Did he want to know gossip about Liberty? Nah, he had better things to do with his hours than dwell over a beautiful newcomer with big golden brown eyes and one hell of a tasty earlobe.
When he finished his task, he headed inside. Ranching didn’t stop with the outdoor work—he still had a stack of bills to pay and lists of supplies to make for those updates to the new ranch.
The silent house greeted him, but he saw evidence of Liberty’s presence in the kitchen, where she appeared to have washed only the dishes she used. The sink was still piled with dirty ones he hadn’t yet tended to, and the sour smell made him wrinkle his nose.
Maybe the bills could wait. A few minutes of housework wouldn’t kill him.
He spent twenty minutes handwashing the dishes and had to beat the laundry room door open when some muddy jeans got stuck beneath it. With both washer and dryer running, he took care of the bathroom. He might not have a woman in his life, but he knew nobody would want to see his dirty towels draped around the space.
After he gave it a good mucking out, he changed clothes and went into the kitchen to fix something to eat. Rustling up some grub took a bit of ingenuity, but in the end, he ended up with a plate full of pickles and a peanut butter sandwich. He definitely needed more than a few supplies. He wondered what Liberty would return with.
On the way down the road, he passed her heading back to the ranch. Seeing her in that old pickup, her window rolled down and hair blowing in the Georgia breeze left him a little addled again, and he hardly recalled his drive into town.
When he hit the bridge spanning the Satilla River, he jerked to a stop and reversed in the middle of the bridge. Going the opposite direction, his cousin, Kaoz, did the same. They pulled their truck windows even with each other and shared a grin.