Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
6
Just over an hour later, she was standing out on the curb by her car. Everything she owned was packed in Stafford’s truck. It was a bit embarrassing to let him see how little she had. But it also meant that it didn’t take long to pack.
It would’ve been quicker if he’d let her help.
Instead, she’d just had to sit there and direct. With her hands fully bandaged. Although he had let her pack her panties and bras, as well as her toiletries.
Thankfully, she always kept the apartment clean. So she’d been able to just drop the key in Mr. Brandt’s mailbox and leave.
“You could have put my things in my car,” she told him.
“Why would I do that when you’re not driving your car?”
What?
“But I have bring my car out to the ranch,” she protested.
“It’s not safe.” He frowned at her car as though it gravely offended him.
“There’s nothing wrong with Frank.”
“Frank?” he demanded.
“My car.” She tapped the driver’s door, holding back a wince. Her hands were actually feeling a lot better, and she didn’t want to give Stafford an opportunity to insist she see a doctor. She couldn’t afford that.
“Well, Frank looks like he’s on his last legs. He doesn’t look road-worthy. And you shouldn’t be driving with your hands bandaged. So you’re coming with me in my truck.”
“I can’t leave him here. Mr. Brandt will likely have him towed. I’m fine to drive.”
He shook his head with a sigh. “I will get one of my guys to drive Frank to the ranch. All right?”
She bit her lower lip. “Isn’t that a hassle?”
Stafford shot her a look.
Right.
It was a hassle, but it was that or leave Frank here.
“Thanks,” she said meekly as she followed him to his truck. He opened the passenger door.
Wow. That was so nice.
Then she realized that his truck was so high that she was going to have to grab onto something to haul herself up into the seat. Before she could figure that out, he put his hands around her hips and lifted her.
A squeal escaped her as he settled her in her seat, then grabbed the seatbelt, pulling it over her and buckling it in.
What . . . what had just happened?
He tested the belt. “Just checking.”
Before she could say anything, he’d closed the door and was moving to the driver’s seat.
Wow. Just wow.
No one had ever taken care of her like this and she didn’t even know this guy.
Unsure of what to say to him, she sat there in silence as he drove them back to Maple Grove Ranch.
She cleared her throat. “Is there anything you want me to get started on first?”
“Started on?” he asked.
“In the house. Obviously, dinner. And cleaning out the fridge. What time do you want meals? Do you come back for lunch?”
“First of all, you’re not doing anything until your hands heal,” he told her. “I start my day early so I’ll come back in for breakfast around seven. I can just grab something to take with me for lunch. Then dinner at seven at night.”
“Got it. But my hands are fine. I can cook dinner tonight.”
“No.”
She sighed. “You’re really bossy, you know that?”
He shrugged those wide shoulders. “I’m the boss.” He drove up to the house and parked before turning to her. “Wait here while I take your stuff in and talk to Grandpa Jack. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” she replied nervously. “Do you think he’ll be all right with me being here?”
“No,” he said honestly. “But he doesn’t have much choice.”
That wasn’t really comforting.
“Can’t believe you hired her,” Grandpa Jack grumbled.
“Grandpa,” Stafford said tiredly as he attempted to make them something palatable to eat. “She was in a bad situation. She’d just been kicked out of her apartment. I don’t think she has any family. And the reason she dropped the teacup is because she’d burned her hands.”
“She sounds like a walking disaster,” Grandpa Jack grumbled from where he sat at the table.
Stafford had grilled some steaks and made mashed potatoes. That was about the extent of his cooking skills. He placed everything on the table.
“She’s a Little,” he told his grandfather, wondering if that would help his opinion of Blakely.
His grandfather stilled.
Shit. Or did it make things worse?
“Like Grandma,” Stafford added.
“I know what your grandmother was,” Grandpa Jack grumbled as they heard Blakely come down the stairs.
She hesitated at the doorway, eyeing Grandpa worriedly.
“Come in. Sit down.” Stafford drew back a chair for her.
As she walked in, he noticed she’d put owl slippers on. That was adorable.
What the hell? What was wrong with him? Since when did he think something was adorable?
“Um, Mr. Hill, I’m so sorry about the teacup,” she said as she slipped into the chair.
Grandpa Jack grunted. “Just make sure you don’t touch them again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Stafford sat and reached for the food. He filled her plate with a large piece of steak and plenty of potatoes before filling his own. Grandpa Jack already had food on his plate.