by Kira Archer
“Let’s go check out the yard,” Brooks said, opening the door to herd the other men out. “Don’t kill her,” he said, clapping Cole on the shoulder. “They’d probably make us clean up the mess.”
Kiersten’s jaw dropped, but Brooks just winked at her and went out, closing the door behind him.
“Bravo,” Cole said, closing the remaining distance between them. “I definitely underestimated you.”
Kiersten gave him what she hoped was an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, yes, you do. You are one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. You never do anything without knowing exactly what you’re doing, and you execute every task you undertake to perfection.”
“Wow. Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”
“If I didn’t, I’d have fired you a long time ago.”
She really wanted to ask him what the hell she had to do to get fired now, but it’s not like he’d tell her. This was a war. You didn’t give your enemy the blueprints to your strategy.
“You didn’t give me many options, but I still gave you everything you asked for.”
He brought his arms up, caging her in. “Did you?” He leaned in a hair, and her breath caught in her throat. “And where will you be staying? You said there were only two bedrooms. Two beds in each. Are you sleeping on the sofa?”
“No. At a B&B down the road.”
Cole frowned. “That won’t do. I said I wanted you with me.”
She swallowed hard, trying to force her lungs to work. Cole as his normal self was imposing. Cole with his king-of-the-world persona full strength was overwhelming. “You said you wanted me on hand. I’ll be here for the important stuff, just a few minutes away. You don’t really want me hanging around all weekend.”
“Don’t I?”
She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and noticed how close his lips were. She could still feel them moving over hers. Still craved the electricity shooting through her at his touch. The fact that this exasperating ass of a man had the power to turn her into a quivering, panting bundle of need with a mere look had to be the single most aggravating thing that had ever happened to her.
He leaned closer. She didn’t turn away. She should. She should push him from her and get far, far away as fast as possible. But she didn’t. She couldn’t have made her body move if the damn cottage had been on fire.
“I thought this was against the rules,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“When it comes to you, I don’t seem to care about the rules.”
His lips brushed across hers, and she forgot how to breathe. He cupped her cheek, his mouth moving over hers again. Her brain insisted she pull away. Her body told it to shut the hell up. She rose on her toes to deepen the kiss, fully aware she was being a complete idiot and not caring in the slightest. She’d care later. Right now, she wanted to be devoured.
A knock at the window right beside them had Kiersten jerking back with a gasp, her heart pounding. Cole, however, remained cool as ever. His hand still cupping her face, he merely turned his head toward the window. Brooks stood there, beaming at them. Kiersten’s cheeks burned. She pulled away from Cole as Brooks came through the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his grin widening.
“What do you want?” Cole asked.
Brooks’s grin faded a bit. “There are some buggies here and a nice man in a hat who said he’s supposed to drive us to the school?”
“Tell them we aren’t going.”
“No, wait. You can’t do that,” Kiersten said.
Cole frowned at her. “Why not?”
She resisted the eye roll. Really, that man needed to be told no more often. “Because the whole story has already been leaked to the press.”
“What?” This time there was no amusement in his voice. “Why?”
“For one, because you’re the one who is so fond of free press. But mostly because I knew if the whole world was watching you couldn’t bail.”
Brooks laughed. “She’s got you there.”
Cole glared at him, and Brooks shrugged. “Well, she does.”
“It’ll be tasteful,” Kiersten said. “I only invited one reporter who had to sign a contract stating he wouldn’t take or print pictures of the Amish themselves. Just you boys and the building. And we get full approval before the story runs, so I can make sure it’s respectful. I have no desire to exploit our hosts.”
Harrison poked his head in the door, his face contorted in disgusted confusion. “I just stepped in horse dung.”
Kiersten bit her lip. “There are changes of clothes for each of you in your rooms. Including work boots. I’d suggest changing. And quickly.”
Cole flashed her another look. “This isn’t over. You and I still have a few things to discuss.”
“I bet,” Brooks said with a snort.
Kiersten and Cole gave him twin glares, and he choked off a laugh. “I’ll…um, just go get changed.”
Escaping sounded good to Kiersten, too. “I’ll wait outside,” she said, darting out the door before Cole could stop her, the promise of further “talking” ringing through her head.
After what had just happened, being alone with him was something she really needed to avoid. What the hell did she have to do? She’d dropped his ass in the middle of Amish country for his legendary poker retreat, and instead of firing her on the spot, he’d kissed her? She’d thought this would be so easy, but it seemed the worse she behaved, the more she tried to push his buttons, the more things heated up between them.
Well, he had a day of hard labor ahead of him, and she’d made sure he’d have a very early morning.
We’ll just see how he’s feeling come tomorrow morning, she thought with a growing smile. Surely, even Cole Harrington had his limits, and she was about to test them.
Chapter Nineteen
Cole rolled over and tried to glare at the rooster that was crowing outside his window. He’d never ached so badly in his life.
He’d always been athletic. Played soccer and football in high school. Hit the weight room regularly. In fact, up until the moment he’d picked up that hammer, he’d thought he’d been in good shape. Then he’d hammered, carried lumber, sawed, raised walls, and tried his hand—badly—at roofing.
They’d all been so tired by the time they were dropped off at their cottage that they’d been falling asleep in their candlelit supper. They hadn’t even discussed playing a few hands of poker. He’d managed a shower and then had dropped right into bed. And now some scraggly chicken was crowing outside his window at the ass-crack of dawn. He’d never been interested in hunting, but if he had a shotgun, or hell even a bow and arrow, he’d happily turn the thing into their next dinner.
He rolled over and grabbed his phone, fully intent on calling Kiersten over to chase it away. If he had to be up and suffering, he saw no reason not to share the pain, seeing as how she was the one responsible for it all anyway. Except his phone was dead. And the cottage wasn’t wired for electricity, so he couldn’t charge it.
He threw his arm over his head and groaned.
The rooster shut up long enough that he’d almost drifted back to sleep, when a knock on the front door jolted him awake again. He ignored it. Whoever it was could go the hell away.
Instead of going away, the door opened and Kiersten’s voice floated to him from the entryway. “Good morning!”
“Cole,” Brooks grunted. “No offense, but I’m going to kill your assistant.”
Cole snorted. “I’ll help you bury the body.”
Kiersten poked her head in the bedroom. “Good morning, boys. I know it’s early, but if you want breakfast we need to gather the eggs and help out with the animals.”
“Kiersten,” Cole said, “I mean this in the most professional way possible. But if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank the perkiness right out of you.”
“I’ll hold her down for you,”
Brooks chimed in from under his mound of blankets.
Kiersten laughed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not so bad. I’ve got coffee.”
Those might have been the only words in the world that would have gotten him out of that bed. Well, that and maybe I’m naked, come get me. But since that possibility was slim, he’d have to settle for the coffee.
He sighed, hauled himself up, and yanked on a pair of loose sweatpants.
“Don’t do it,” Brooks said. “It’s a trap.”
Cole just grunted. “Do you think she’s going to give up?”
Brooks moaned again. “No. The woman is relentless.” He rolled over and pulled the quilts up to his ears. “Do us all a favor and go fall on the perky grenade for us, m’kay?”
Cole stood, stretched, and then reached under Brooks’s mattress, efficiently flipping his friend to the floor. Then he walked out the door, the sound of Brooks’s curses filling his ears.
He walked into the kitchen and stopped short. Kiersten stood framed in the window, the soft glow of candlelight behind her and the faint light of the pre-morning sun highlighting her features. His heart thumped almost painfully in his chest. He’d never seen anyone so breathtakingly beautiful in his life. For a moment, he wished circumstances were different. But he was well aware he had trust issues, and with Kiersten, it was doubly challenging. She made no secret of the fact that she hated him. Hell, she’d spent the last couple of weeks purposely torturing him, apparently just for the fun of it. She was attracted to him, sure. That she couldn’t hide even though there was no doubt she wanted to. But that was just sex. You could want someone you loathed. Love? That was something else completely.
She turned and noticed him standing there, and the smile she gave him nearly knocked him to his knees. If he could see that smile every morning for the rest of his life, he’d live and die a happy man.
He gave himself a mental kick in the nuts. She was off-limits, for a whole variety of reasons. Employee. Probably a soon-to-be former one, possibly disgruntled. Social disparity. Snobbish and completely detestable, he agreed. But it was what it was. Someone with money was a lot less likely to screw him over just to get paid. And the minor detail of her lukewarm-at-best feelings for him on a personal level. Kind of hard to wiggle around that one.
That smile, though. Would she be smiling like that at someone she hated? He shook his head. He could play this game all day, and for once, he wasn’t sure if he’d win. Better to stop while he could pretend he was ahead.
She handed him a brimming cup of coffee, hot enough to still be good but cool enough he could down it quickly. Apparently, she didn’t want to waste any time this morning.
“Are the others coming?” she asked.
He peeked in at Chris and Harrison, who were both dead to the world. And Brooks was snoring under his pile of blankets on the floor.
She went into the kitchen and retrieved a cooking pot and a big wooden spoon. “Plug your ears,” she said, holding them up with a wicked grin.
He laughed. “Oh please, let me.”
She handed him the pot and spoon and wedged her fingers in her ears. Cole grinned and started banging. He’d never seen the guys move so fast in their lives.
“I might have to keep that handy,” he said, handing it back to her.
She laughed and helped get them all coffeed up and herded outside. Chris and Harrison she set to gathering eggs, led by a pair of adorable kids whose parents owned the property. Brooks disappeared to do something with cows that Cole really didn’t want to know about. The last time he saw him, Brooks was sitting looking at the business end of a cow, full udders swinging in his face.
Cole had been led to the pigsty. Ignoring the muddy mass of writhing pink flesh that was waiting for the slop he held, he glanced around the farm. He had to admit, the view was incredible. Just the sort of place his sister would have loved. Piper had always been happiest outdoors. Hiking, camping, boating…if it was in the fresh air, she wanted to be doing it. He stared at the lush, rolling hills and the sparkling water of the farm’s pond reflecting the rising sun, and swallowed past a lump that rose in his throat at the thought of his sister never again seeing something so beautiful.
But he took a small comfort in the project he named for her. He’d found the most beautiful property he could on which to build her legacy. A place she would have chosen if given the opportunity. He hadn’t been able to help her, but maybe he could help others in her name.
“Mr. Harrington?”
He looked up. Kiersten sat on a nearby fence, her face creased in concern. “Are you all right?”
He forced back the memories of his sister and nodded at the pigsty. “Just trying to decide how badly I want breakfast.”
She laughed and folded her arms, raised eyebrows daring him to go for it. He knew theoretically what was supposed to happen. Put food in the trough, pigs eat food. Stay out of said pigs’ way. Plus, he was supposed to spread a little around one area of the pen the farmer had pointed out so the pigs could root around. Seemed easy enough.
He picked up a bucket of feed and leaned over the fence, pouring it smoothly into the trough. Not so tough. He picked up a second bucket filled with leftover food items—crusts of bread, vegetable peelings, and the like. He leaned over to dump that one as well. However, the pigs, alerted to the presence of food, had made a run for the trough, bumping into the fence here and there as they went. One massive sow charged right at him, knocking the bucket from his hand. It fell to its side behind the trough.
Kiersten jumped down from the fence and hurried over. “You’ve got to get it. They’ll trample each other trying to get at it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said, already on his knees reaching through the fence.
It was wedged in, but if he shimmied down a little farther—not an easy task as the ground around the sty was soggy and muddy—he could get his arm around the fence post and grab the handle. Once he had a hold of it, he reached through the fence slats one at a time, handing the bucket up to himself each time until it was high enough he could reach over the top of the fence and grab the handle.
“Mr. Harrington,” Kiersten called.
He climbed on the fence and again leaned over to dump the bucket. “I got it.”
“No, Mr. Harrington!” she said, more insistently. He glanced up right as the large sow charged at the fence.
“Shit,” he muttered. He dumped the rest of the slops, not worrying about whether they were evenly distributed, but she was almost on him. He jumped backward just as she crashed into the fence, and he landed on his back right in the middle of a mud puddle.
He lay there for a moment, contemplating the peaceful serenity of the morning sky and of his life before Kiersten had decided to wage war. With the muck oozing into his nether regions, he had to admit, this battle went to her. Touché.
And speak of the devil…Kiersten’s face appeared above him, her mask of concern more than a little tinged with amusement.
“You okay down there?”
He blinked. “I’ve been better.”
“Need help up?” She held out her hand.
Well, wasn’t she a trusting little soul. “Sure.” He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her right into the mud with him.
She shrieked and scrambled to get away, but only succeeded in slipping farther. He laughed, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her back.
She came back to him all right…with a fistful of mud she casually smeared all over his face. “Much better,” she said, cocking her head to look at him. “Now the left side matches the right.”
“And you don’t match at all.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” she said, holding her hands out with a laugh.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled, rubbing himself all over her until she was as covered as he was and they were both breathless with laughter. They subsided for a moment, seeming to realize at the same time the interesting position they’d gotten themselv
es in. Cole sat in the mud, Kiersten straddling him, her hands on his chest for support while he still held her waist. He stared into those warm mahogany eyes of hers, the faint scent of her magnolia perfume still present, even through the muck.
She didn’t move away from him, didn’t say a word. Just sat on his lap, dragging in lungfuls of air and watching him the way he watched her.
He leaned forward, going slowly so she could stop him at any time. Her hands tightened in his shirt, not dragging him forward, but not stopping him, either. He was so intent on the woman in his arms he didn’t hear anyone approaching until it was much too late.
The bucket of cold water hit them square in the face. Kiersten flailed backward, swatting at it like it was a swarm of bees, which, of course, did her no good. Cole sputtered and choked. Then glared up at the trio of men staring down at them.
Before he could talk, Brooks held up a finger, his expression keeping Cole silent more than any hand gesture.
Kiersten blinked through the water dripping down her face and frowned. “What happened to you?”
Brooks glanced over at her from under a mop of soaking wet hair. His shirt was also drenched with trails reaching down to his jeans. “It peed on me,” he said.
Kiersten’s hand tightened in Cole’s shirt again. His gaze flickered to her, and from what he could tell from her expression, it was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing. He knew the feeling.
Harrison held up a hand that had been wrapped in a bandage. “I got pecked.”
This time Kiersten bit her lip. She did manage to say, “Oh, you poor thing. Did you get the eggs, at least?”
Harrison’s face actually cleared with a proud smile. “I did. Six of them.”
“Excellent,” Kiersten said, pushing herself off Cole and carefully maneuvering until she was on more solid ground. “And you?” she asked Christopher, who was holding a baby goat and looking at them all like they’d escaped from an asylum somewhere.
He shrugged. “I did great. Found eight eggs, and this little guy.” He held up the baby, who bleated at him. He set the kid down and glanced back over at Brooks. “No pecks. Maybe you got the crotchety ones.”