Arrogant Devil
Page 6
She locks her arms across her chest, and we participate in what feels like the world’s longest staring contest. Smoke plumes from her ears. If she had a six-shooter, it’d be aimed at my heart.
I tip my head, studying her. “You’re really Helen’s sister?”
“We have the same eyes.”
No kidding—they’re light blue, rarest color I’ve ever seen—but the similarities start and stop there. I’ve never thought of Helen as attractive. She’s squared away safely in my mind as my matronly executive assistant; she doesn’t exist to attract or un-attract me. She’s my employee, and a damn good one at that. Meredith, though…she’s different.
“Helen said you need a job.”
Meredith nods. “Correct. I can start today.”
I chuckle at that. “Seems like you and I haven’t gotten off to a great start, and sometimes your gut knows something before the brain catches up. Maybe you oughta look for employment elsewhere.”
With that, something in her expression breaks. She’s still fuming, but her shoulders sag. Her attention darts past my shoulders, out the window. Her lip quivers. I’m not very good at reading women, but I’m damn near sure she’s about to cry. I thought I’d be happier getting to this point.
“You ever work on a ranch before?”
“I think you can probably guess the answer to that,” she snaps, blue eyes slicing back to me.
I resist the urge to smile at her fire. “You can put the claws away. We’re just talking.”
She sighs and steps forward, finally sagging down into the seat I offered her. Her purse drops to the floor at her feet as she relaxes back against the cushion, and I take advantage of the opportunity to study her. Her hair is the color of dark coffee, almost black, probably fake. Her nails are trimmed and manicured. Her features—though currently smudged with dirt and what looks to be a few drops of blood—are feminine and beautiful. I have no doubt she was a heartbreaker back in California. Her husband is probably missing her right about now.
Once she’s situated, she looks back up at me, waiting.
“So, no ranch experience. Have you ever had a job?”
She swallows and tips her chin up. It’s clear that what she lacks in experience, she makes up for in confidence. I doubt she’s ever let anyone walk over her.
“I’ve volunteered at a hospital for the last few years.”
“I’m talking about a real job, with a paycheck and a boss—accountability.”
Her lips purse and shakes her head. “My parents always wanted me to focus on school.”
Parents?
“How old are you?”
“28.” She guesses where my questions are leading. “After college…well, certain circumstances meant I didn’t work, but I assure you I will be a very good employee. I’m timely and dedicated.”
“Can you use QuickBooks?”
“I’m a quick learner!” she jokes. “Heh.”
“What about Outlook?”
“I always maintain a positive outlook.”
Jesus Christ.
“Your sister tells me you’re married to some millionaire. Why do you even need a job?”
My eyes narrow as I study her, looking for motive in that pretty face. I catch the subtle shift in the air at the mention of her husband.
“I was married,” she bites out with a locked jaw. “We’re separated.”
“As of?”
“Last night,” she announces confidently.
I finally lose the battle with myself and laugh. It’s all so ridiculous. I whip the hat off my head, smooth my hand over my hair, and then drop it back into place. She tracks my movements with careful attention.
“Don’t they make you wait 24 hours to report a missing person? Seems like you should give it 48 for ending a marriage. You might change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Excuse my French, but I don’t have time for this shit.”
Even now, problems are piling up outside the door of this office.
Anyone else would stand up and leave. I’ve been known to bring grown ass men to their knees, but she doesn’t seem to care. In fact, she leans forward, props her hands on my desk, and locks her gaze with mine.
“I need this job.”
“I disagree.” My niceness is gone. My patience is all used up. “Look, you’ve made your dramatic gesture, now I think you should run back home to California. No doubt you’ve taught your husband a lesson. I’m sure he’ll buy you whatever pretty thing he’s been holding out on.” I stand and start dialing my ranch manager’s number so I can return the call he left earlier.
She reaches forward, picks up the phone from its holder, and slams it back down.
Damn. She’s spoiled and crazy.
“I know Helen’s gone, and you need somebody. Give me the job.”
“You’ve never worked a day in your life. By the time I train you, Helen will be back.”
“We’re not talking rocket science—how hard could it be? I’ll stay out of your way.”
I level a steady gaze down her small frame. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“I’m not leaving this office until you give me a job—any job.”
Just then, a light bulb flips on that illuminates the way out of this mess. It takes all my energy to keep my face neutral. She can’t know it’s a trap or she’ll see right through my intentions. Meredith wants a job, I want her to get the hell off my property, and it seems we can kill two birds with one stone.
“Any job? That works for me. I need a housekeeper. Mine quit last week.”
She arches a delicate brow. “Couldn’t stand her boss?”
I grind my teeth. Isn’t she supposed to be groveling? Ingratiating herself as best she can? Instead, it feels like she’s calling the shots in my damn office. “She moved to be closer to her daughter. That’s the only job I have for you. Take it or leave it.”
She stands up, dragging her hands from my desk. “So I’d be your maid?”
“You’d also cook meals, do laundry, wash the dog—that sort of thing. Toilets need cleaning at least once a day—you saw the guys that’ll be using ’em, and tonight is chili night.”
I’m laying it on thick at this point. No way she’s staying.
She glances away for a moment. “I don’t—that is, I’ve never…”
I return my attention to my desk, writing her off. I’ve never had to fight a grin so hard in my life. I figured it wouldn’t be hard to scare her away, but this was a little too easy. One mention of scrubbing toilets and her knees are quaking. She’s a second from bolting. Once she’s gone, I’ll finally have a minute to catch up on work. I’ll give my manager a call and shoot off an email to Helen, demanding she return early in exchange for putting me through the trouble of dealing with this brat.
It occurs to me that Meredith hasn’t moved. Oh, right. She’s stranded out here.
“Or”—I glance up at her from beneath my brows, speaking offhandedly—“I’ll get one of the hands to give you a ride back into town.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving. I’m taking the job—on one condition.”
Oh good grief.
Apparently, her rich husband really has cut her off because Meredith requests room and board. No doubt she was planning on staying with her sister, but Helen’s house is currently under construction. Her only option is to stay here, but I’ll be damned if I have her in the house with me. She’s been here fifteen minutes and I already have a raging tension headache.
Adjacent to my house, there’s a small shack tucked in the tree line of the property. Yes, I used the right word—it’s a shack. I’ve lent it out to ranch hands in the past, resourceful guys who don’t mind spending a month or two on a crappy twin bed so they can save up for rent. The slats in the floorboards have some gaps and there are a few cobwebs dangling in the corners, but it has a makeshift shower and a sink, more than Meredith probably deserves.
I tip my head, studying her. “You’re really Helen’s sister?”
“We have the same eyes.”
No kidding—they’re light blue, rarest color I’ve ever seen—but the similarities start and stop there. I’ve never thought of Helen as attractive. She’s squared away safely in my mind as my matronly executive assistant; she doesn’t exist to attract or un-attract me. She’s my employee, and a damn good one at that. Meredith, though…she’s different.
“Helen said you need a job.”
Meredith nods. “Correct. I can start today.”
I chuckle at that. “Seems like you and I haven’t gotten off to a great start, and sometimes your gut knows something before the brain catches up. Maybe you oughta look for employment elsewhere.”
With that, something in her expression breaks. She’s still fuming, but her shoulders sag. Her attention darts past my shoulders, out the window. Her lip quivers. I’m not very good at reading women, but I’m damn near sure she’s about to cry. I thought I’d be happier getting to this point.
“You ever work on a ranch before?”
“I think you can probably guess the answer to that,” she snaps, blue eyes slicing back to me.
I resist the urge to smile at her fire. “You can put the claws away. We’re just talking.”
She sighs and steps forward, finally sagging down into the seat I offered her. Her purse drops to the floor at her feet as she relaxes back against the cushion, and I take advantage of the opportunity to study her. Her hair is the color of dark coffee, almost black, probably fake. Her nails are trimmed and manicured. Her features—though currently smudged with dirt and what looks to be a few drops of blood—are feminine and beautiful. I have no doubt she was a heartbreaker back in California. Her husband is probably missing her right about now.
Once she’s situated, she looks back up at me, waiting.
“So, no ranch experience. Have you ever had a job?”
She swallows and tips her chin up. It’s clear that what she lacks in experience, she makes up for in confidence. I doubt she’s ever let anyone walk over her.
“I’ve volunteered at a hospital for the last few years.”
“I’m talking about a real job, with a paycheck and a boss—accountability.”
Her lips purse and shakes her head. “My parents always wanted me to focus on school.”
Parents?
“How old are you?”
“28.” She guesses where my questions are leading. “After college…well, certain circumstances meant I didn’t work, but I assure you I will be a very good employee. I’m timely and dedicated.”
“Can you use QuickBooks?”
“I’m a quick learner!” she jokes. “Heh.”
“What about Outlook?”
“I always maintain a positive outlook.”
Jesus Christ.
“Your sister tells me you’re married to some millionaire. Why do you even need a job?”
My eyes narrow as I study her, looking for motive in that pretty face. I catch the subtle shift in the air at the mention of her husband.
“I was married,” she bites out with a locked jaw. “We’re separated.”
“As of?”
“Last night,” she announces confidently.
I finally lose the battle with myself and laugh. It’s all so ridiculous. I whip the hat off my head, smooth my hand over my hair, and then drop it back into place. She tracks my movements with careful attention.
“Don’t they make you wait 24 hours to report a missing person? Seems like you should give it 48 for ending a marriage. You might change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Excuse my French, but I don’t have time for this shit.”
Even now, problems are piling up outside the door of this office.
Anyone else would stand up and leave. I’ve been known to bring grown ass men to their knees, but she doesn’t seem to care. In fact, she leans forward, props her hands on my desk, and locks her gaze with mine.
“I need this job.”
“I disagree.” My niceness is gone. My patience is all used up. “Look, you’ve made your dramatic gesture, now I think you should run back home to California. No doubt you’ve taught your husband a lesson. I’m sure he’ll buy you whatever pretty thing he’s been holding out on.” I stand and start dialing my ranch manager’s number so I can return the call he left earlier.
She reaches forward, picks up the phone from its holder, and slams it back down.
Damn. She’s spoiled and crazy.
“I know Helen’s gone, and you need somebody. Give me the job.”
“You’ve never worked a day in your life. By the time I train you, Helen will be back.”
“We’re not talking rocket science—how hard could it be? I’ll stay out of your way.”
I level a steady gaze down her small frame. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“I’m not leaving this office until you give me a job—any job.”
Just then, a light bulb flips on that illuminates the way out of this mess. It takes all my energy to keep my face neutral. She can’t know it’s a trap or she’ll see right through my intentions. Meredith wants a job, I want her to get the hell off my property, and it seems we can kill two birds with one stone.
“Any job? That works for me. I need a housekeeper. Mine quit last week.”
She arches a delicate brow. “Couldn’t stand her boss?”
I grind my teeth. Isn’t she supposed to be groveling? Ingratiating herself as best she can? Instead, it feels like she’s calling the shots in my damn office. “She moved to be closer to her daughter. That’s the only job I have for you. Take it or leave it.”
She stands up, dragging her hands from my desk. “So I’d be your maid?”
“You’d also cook meals, do laundry, wash the dog—that sort of thing. Toilets need cleaning at least once a day—you saw the guys that’ll be using ’em, and tonight is chili night.”
I’m laying it on thick at this point. No way she’s staying.
She glances away for a moment. “I don’t—that is, I’ve never…”
I return my attention to my desk, writing her off. I’ve never had to fight a grin so hard in my life. I figured it wouldn’t be hard to scare her away, but this was a little too easy. One mention of scrubbing toilets and her knees are quaking. She’s a second from bolting. Once she’s gone, I’ll finally have a minute to catch up on work. I’ll give my manager a call and shoot off an email to Helen, demanding she return early in exchange for putting me through the trouble of dealing with this brat.
It occurs to me that Meredith hasn’t moved. Oh, right. She’s stranded out here.
“Or”—I glance up at her from beneath my brows, speaking offhandedly—“I’ll get one of the hands to give you a ride back into town.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving. I’m taking the job—on one condition.”
Oh good grief.
Apparently, her rich husband really has cut her off because Meredith requests room and board. No doubt she was planning on staying with her sister, but Helen’s house is currently under construction. Her only option is to stay here, but I’ll be damned if I have her in the house with me. She’s been here fifteen minutes and I already have a raging tension headache.
Adjacent to my house, there’s a small shack tucked in the tree line of the property. Yes, I used the right word—it’s a shack. I’ve lent it out to ranch hands in the past, resourceful guys who don’t mind spending a month or two on a crappy twin bed so they can save up for rent. The slats in the floorboards have some gaps and there are a few cobwebs dangling in the corners, but it has a makeshift shower and a sink, more than Meredith probably deserves.
