Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
“I’ve been managing this place for years. You have no clue how much work it takes to keep things running smoothly, Callum,” I said, mumbling into my chest.
Finishing the task, I rose up from the hay bale and grabbed Glimmer’s brush. It was one of my favorite ways to unwind after a long day. It was work like any other chore, but it was fulfilling. Something I bet he didn’t experience in a stuffy boardroom.
He stepped closer to us. “Didn’t Nana teach you not to judge a book by its cover?”
Callum rubbed my sweet mare’s face. Glimmer had the audacity to chuff into his hand. The nerve! She couldn’t possibly remember him, not when he barely visited. Not in the past five years or longer. At least not that I could recall.
“What Nana taught me has nothing to do with how this is going to go. Listen up, Versace. I run this ranch. You stay out of my way and we’ll be just fine.”
A smirk played on his lips, seemingly amused by what I’d said.
“I don’t doubt your abilities, Quinn. But sitting on the sidelines isn’t really my strong suit.”
He was frustratingly calm, standing there unnerved while I was irritated by the very notion of having to collaborate with him on a daily basis.
“Seems like that’s exactly what you’ve been doing,” I sassed.
“While that may be true, I’m here now,” he said, still unbothered. Glimmer nuzzled him again, probably liking the way he smelled. “Aren’t you a beauty? So sweet and well-mannered, unlike your owner.”
“I beg your pardon? I’m exceptionally well-mannered, thankyouverymuch.”
“Well, Glimmer does seem to be an excellent judge of character,” he said more to her than to me. “Must be the stress.”
Callum released her and stepped backward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. They weren’t designed for mucking out stalls or getting dirty on a ranch. He needed a real-life lesson on what life on the ranch looked like.
No time like the present.
He had no business being sexy while my brain spiraled. Picking up the bucket of water I’d been using to rinse Glimmer’s hooves, I ‘accidentally’ on purpose knocked into him. Muck, dirt, and water sloshed over the side, soaking his pants and shoes. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Glimmer pawed the stable floor once. As if she knew I’d one hundred percent smacked into him with intention.
Which I had.
“Whoops! Clearly not enough room in this stall for both of us,” I said, failing to hide my amusement as I set the bucket down.
“You pull a stunt like that again and I’ll bend you over a hay bale and teach you a lesson in respect,” he growled.
I’d be lying if I said his tone didn’t shoot straight to my core. No one had ever spoken to me with such authority wrapped in dominance. Certainly not some prodigal son who’d left our small town for bigger pastures only to return spoiled and wholly out of his element. A tiny bit of guilt swirled through my tummy because I’d ruined his outfit.
“Respect has to be earned, Versace. You don’t get to waltz in here and change the rules,” I said, hoping that my face stayed neutral and didn’t betray the havoc he’d created inside me with his threat-slash-promise. “To your offer? I don’t need any sort of lessons, not the kind you’d be teaching anyhow.”
“I want to work with you, Quinn. In the past I’ve pretended to have the skills that I lack for corporate mergings and proposals, but I’m out of my element here,” he said as if he’d heard the thoughts I’d kept to myself. “I’m not pretending to understand the inner workings of a ranch.”
I ran the brush over Glimmer’s flank, giving her extra attention because she had to deal with our bickering. It wasn’t his fault he suddenly had a ranch to manage. I tried to remind myself that he was grieving too. Nana had been his last living grandparent. Her full name was Geraldine Rosalee Parrish, but I only knew that from tracing her handwritten signature on my custody papers in my teens. Everyone in town called her Nana. She wasn’t biologically family, but she was in my heart where it mattered. The memory of her tightened something in my chest.
Glimmer shined from the brushing, and I finished with a few rubs on her hind quarters. Callum watched me, as if calculating his next move.
Finally I spoke. “Listen up, Cal.” I called him a short version of his name and knew he hated it. “If you want to work with me you’ll need clothes that you can move in. Ones that you won’t mind getting dirty. Jeans. T-shirts. Boots. Do you know what those are?”
“My, my, my, you’re quite the spitfire tonight, aren’t you? Yes, Quinn. I know what casual clothes are, but I don’t typically wear them. Power suits are what I’ve lived and breathed in most of the time. Not that you seem to care, but even when I wasn’t working, it was virtual client meetings at all hours. Never business-casual, at least on the top.”