awe-inspiring mountains. The view from Battle Ridge of the mountains had been beautiful, but now she was much closer, and she felt almost as if she could barely breathe this close to something that words couldn’t really describe. All the head-swiveling didn’t do anything to help her keep her sense of direction, but what the hell, that was already blown, so she might as well enjoy the drive.
On a more practical note, this job on the Decker ranch had better work out, because there was no way in hell she could find her way back to Battle Ridge; she’d effectively be stranded out here, at least for a while. Her short and not-very-sweet acquaintance with Decker made her less than optimistic that he’d take pity on her and lead her back to civilization, especially since he was in such dire straits. He evidently needed a cook and housekeeper bad enough to hire a “stray.”
“Stray,” she muttered. “I’ll show you stray.”
Just thinking about that made her get pissed off all over again. No, there was no again to it, because she hadn’t stopped being pissed off to begin with, and that was good. She wasn’t certain exactly what she meant by showing him, or what she could do, but she’d think of something to get back at him. She needed the money, she needed the job, but right now he needed her even more and that gave her the upper hand. She liked being pissed.Pissed off was the best mood for her to be in. Otherwise, Decker was too much of a temptation.
Hell, he was a temptation even when she was pissed off.
Damn it. Damn him, for being so blasted sexy—and he didn’t even try! Please God, she though frantically, don’t let him ever try. She didn’t know if she could resist him. Once upon a time, before Brad, she’d have been dancing on the ceiling at the way Decker made her feel: the thumping heartbeat, the nervousness and excitement in the pit of her stomach, the restlessness, the sensation of her skin being too hot and tight. Was it coincidence or a warning that the symptoms of strong attraction were pretty much the same as those for a dread disease? She could imagine that if she went to an ER with those symptoms she’d be slapped into a cardiac unit, or isolation, or both.
But there was no dancing on the ceiling now. He’d made it clear that she was just a fill-in until he could find someone permanent, preferably a man, and that suited her fine. For now the Decker ranch—the wonderfully isolated Decker ranch—was a very good place to hide. If Decker found a permanent cook before the winter was over, she expected he’d fire her even though he’d promised not to, but considering her circumstances she was really okay with that. After all, she’d forced him to make that promise only to piss him off, the way he’d pissed her off. Fair was fair, right?
All she had to do was keep him at a distance, and far away from her overactive hormones. I can do that, she thought, and smirked to herself. She might even have fun doing it. And if she indulged her hormones by eyeing the eye-candy from time to time, that was okay, because washing his dirty underwear would even things out and keep her head out of the clouds. As long as she didn’t catch herself sniffing his shirts, she was fine.
He turned his pickup onto a graveled road that was marked by two posts so big and rough it looked as if someone had simply cut down two trees—two really big trees—and hacked the limbs off, then stuck the trees in the ground. The twenty-foot-tall posts supported a cross member that could be yet another tree, a rough-hewn slab of wood easily twice as thick as her body, into which the words “Rocking D Ranch” had been carved. Carlin steered the Subaru in the truck’s dusty path, feeling as if she were crossing an armed and barricaded border into a foreign country. Okay, so she hadn’t seen any machine-gun nests … yet. They might just be well hidden.
“Wow,” she muttered. As far as entrances went, she found this one
On a more practical note, this job on the Decker ranch had better work out, because there was no way in hell she could find her way back to Battle Ridge; she’d effectively be stranded out here, at least for a while. Her short and not-very-sweet acquaintance with Decker made her less than optimistic that he’d take pity on her and lead her back to civilization, especially since he was in such dire straits. He evidently needed a cook and housekeeper bad enough to hire a “stray.”
“Stray,” she muttered. “I’ll show you stray.”
Just thinking about that made her get pissed off all over again. No, there was no again to it, because she hadn’t stopped being pissed off to begin with, and that was good. She wasn’t certain exactly what she meant by showing him, or what she could do, but she’d think of something to get back at him. She needed the money, she needed the job, but right now he needed her even more and that gave her the upper hand. She liked being pissed.Pissed off was the best mood for her to be in. Otherwise, Decker was too much of a temptation.
Hell, he was a temptation even when she was pissed off.
Damn it. Damn him, for being so blasted sexy—and he didn’t even try! Please God, she though frantically, don’t let him ever try. She didn’t know if she could resist him. Once upon a time, before Brad, she’d have been dancing on the ceiling at the way Decker made her feel: the thumping heartbeat, the nervousness and excitement in the pit of her stomach, the restlessness, the sensation of her skin being too hot and tight. Was it coincidence or a warning that the symptoms of strong attraction were pretty much the same as those for a dread disease? She could imagine that if she went to an ER with those symptoms she’d be slapped into a cardiac unit, or isolation, or both.
But there was no dancing on the ceiling now. He’d made it clear that she was just a fill-in until he could find someone permanent, preferably a man, and that suited her fine. For now the Decker ranch—the wonderfully isolated Decker ranch—was a very good place to hide. If Decker found a permanent cook before the winter was over, she expected he’d fire her even though he’d promised not to, but considering her circumstances she was really okay with that. After all, she’d forced him to make that promise only to piss him off, the way he’d pissed her off. Fair was fair, right?
All she had to do was keep him at a distance, and far away from her overactive hormones. I can do that, she thought, and smirked to herself. She might even have fun doing it. And if she indulged her hormones by eyeing the eye-candy from time to time, that was okay, because washing his dirty underwear would even things out and keep her head out of the clouds. As long as she didn’t catch herself sniffing his shirts, she was fine.
He turned his pickup onto a graveled road that was marked by two posts so big and rough it looked as if someone had simply cut down two trees—two really big trees—and hacked the limbs off, then stuck the trees in the ground. The twenty-foot-tall posts supported a cross member that could be yet another tree, a rough-hewn slab of wood easily twice as thick as her body, into which the words “Rocking D Ranch” had been carved. Carlin steered the Subaru in the truck’s dusty path, feeling as if she were crossing an armed and barricaded border into a foreign country. Okay, so she hadn’t seen any machine-gun nests … yet. They might just be well hidden.
“Wow,” she muttered. As far as entrances went, she found this one
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