by Jeannie Watt
More than that, there was no way he was going to let her win again.
A knock on the door startled him and he muttered a low curse as Clyde started yapping. This was his reality now and he needed to start dealing with it.
* * *
AS FAR AS Shae could tell, all Miranda and her attorney had managed to do with their official lay-the-ground-rules visit was to piss off Jordan, and since she was the one left there—alone—trying to get something accomplished, she figured it was to her advantage to hash things out now, before she started work. And she had to do it while looking at him square in the eye, as if his injuries didn’t bother her.
They did.
Jordan scowled fiercely at her from the other side of the doorway and for a moment she, who was never at a loss, fought for words. Finally she settled on, “Look, I know this isn’t what you expected when you came back home.”
The poodle sat down next to Jordan and when Shae glanced down at the animal, he silently raised his upper lip to show his teeth.
Really?
Shae looked back at Jordan. “I’m here to do a job,” she said, “and if I don’t do it, Miranda will find someone else who will.”
“Is that supposed to make the situation more acceptable to me?” he asked.
“No. But it’s a fact.”
“And if I tell you to take your facts and stick them up your ass?”
“It won’t change a thing,” she said.
“Anything else?” he asked in a stony voice.
“Things will be a lot more pleasant if we can be civil to one another.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Civil.”
“Yes,” she said. “Civil.”
“I don’t remember that being your strong suit, Shae.”
Her eyebrows arched up and she wondered if he was going to bring up that time in the bar. If so, she had a few words to say on the matter. “What do you remember as being my strong suit?”
“Manipulation,” he said without missing a beat. “Getting whatever you want regardless of what other people want.” He leaned forward as he spoke, pointing his finger at her chest, and Shae automatically took a step back before she could stop herself. Jordan stepped forward again and Shae jammed her hand into her pocket.
“I have pepper spray,” she said conversationally.
Jordan abruptly stopped moving and she realized that any kind of burning substance would be devastating to him in his condition. But she didn’t back down. Not one bit.
“You don’t need pepper spray,” he said roughly, folding his arms over his chest.
“This isn’t personal. I have a job to do.” She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms, glancing down at the poodle again. The dog stared balefully back at her. “Don’t get in my way, Jordan.”
“Kind of your motto, right? ‘Don’t get in my way’?”
“Best pay heed,” she said. It sounded like something Liv would say, but she was satisfied with the effect. Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, as if looking for signs of weakness, but he didn’t have a comeback. Or maybe he was done with the name-calling and was going to resort to other tactics. She drew herself up straighter. “I have to get to work,” she said.
He inclined his head solemnly, as if giving permission, then stepped back and closed the door in her face. Shae stood for a shocked moment, staring at the weathered oak a few inches too close to her nose for comfort, the muscles in her jaw tightening as she clenched her teeth. She turned and stalked off the porch, crossing the wild yard to where she’d left her backpack. So much for making peace with the jerk.
Shae headed across the hard-packed ground toward the bunkhouse. What had she expected? A kiss and a hug? No, but she hadn’t expected a personal attack.
Cut him a break. He’s been through hell.
Right—but it wasn’t as though he had a history of being pleasant to her, or anyone else she hung with. He had been quiet and intense; the buckle bunnies had been all over him back in their rodeo days, but he hadn’t taken much stock in being a babe magnet. He’d dated, but never the flashy girls who openly chased him, preferring quiet girls who reflected his own personality...which had led to the bet that Shae couldn’t get lucky with him, which in turn had led to a rather public humiliation.
He could have said, “Not interested,” after she had settled herself on his lap instead of dumping her on her ass and walking away.
He warned you. Twice.
Yeah, well, she hadn’t thought he was serious.
Massive fail, that, but Shae had walked away telling herself that life was too short to waste on a guy who didn’t appreciate her. Now here he was back in her life, scarred and wounded, and right where she didn’t need him.
* * *
PEPPER SPRAY.
Jordan wondered if Shae had been lying, but from the very serious look on her face when she’d made her claim, he doubted it. He’d been sprayed as part of his duty training and wasn’t about to take the chance of getting that shit on his healed wounds and skin grafts. And he wondered, too, if Shae had any idea what pepper spray would do to damaged skin. Would she even care? Shae wasn’t exactly known for thinking of others.
He went to stand at the window, staring down at the open door of the bunkhouse. What had prompted her to bring pepper spray in the first place? Had he really come off as that threatening? Did he look demented and dangerous? He ran a hand over his bristled chin.
If so, good. It’d keep her at bay.
And that would get him...nothing. But it would give her the ability to go about her job without interruption.
Jordan paced through the house, feeling trapped. If he felt like this now, with only Shae on the property, what was he going to feel like when there were greenhorns walking around, “experiencing” all Montana had to offer?
Like hell.
It hasn’t happened yet. He was counting on Emery to come up with that loophole, but until he did, he couldn’t just stand by and let Shae work. That would feel too much like conceding to Miranda’s will while he waited for his lawyer’s answer.
* * *
HEAVY FOOTSTEPS SOUNDED on the steps outside the bunkhouse and Shae looked up to see Jordan standing in the doorway.
What would he do if she crossed the room and closed the door in his face?
Nice fantasy, but it didn’t jibe with her intention of keeping a professional demeanor. Fighting with Jordan wasn’t going to accomplish anything, no matter how tempting it might be.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly before backing up a few paces to photograph the interior of one of the twelve cell-like rooms that lined one side of the bunkhouse.
She’d done some research over the past few days and had discovered that the building, like the four cabins that sat near it, had been used to house miners working placer claims nearby during the early part of the last century—a way for Jordan’s great-grandparents to help keep the ranch afloat during lean times. After the gold had petered out, the building had then been used for storage and for the most part neglected. But the roof was good and it was free of rodents—two of the most important considerations when it came to renovating an old building. Shae was excited by its unique potential, but damned if she was going to let Jordan know what. The way he was taking this invasion, he might just torch the place to keep Miranda from using it.
“I hear this was your idea,” he finally said. “Turning my place into a dude ranch.”
“I proposed it,” Shae said slowly.
“Why?”
Shae shrugged a shoulder. “It seemed like a good idea. It’s close to the Cedar Creek Ranch, but can offer a more rugged experience.”
Jordan looked around the bunkhouse. “Rugged?”
“Compared to Miranda’s other ranches,” Shae explained patiently.
> “The guests will have to walk to the spa instead of having one in their room?”
Shae dropped the camera into her pocket and walked by him on her way to the door. “Excuse me,” she murmured.
“Done?” Jordan said softly.
She ignored him, walking out the door. She heard him follow and stopped abruptly, swinging around on him. “Please don’t follow me.”
He simply raised a dark eyebrow. Shae’s lips parted and then she clamped her mouth shut and walked toward the barn. After she took photos of the barn and the bathhouse, inside and out, she’d get the hell out of there, work at home for the rest of the day.
That was exactly what he wanted. Okay. She wouldn’t get the hell out of there.
And he wasn’t going to stop following her. She heard the sound of his footsteps in the dry grass and turned again.
“I’m interested in what you’re doing,” he said in answer to her silent question.
“I bet.”
“Who would be more interested?”
Ignore him and he’ll stop. Vivian’s advice to Shae’s introverted stepsister, Liv, when a kid had been bothering her at school. Shae had listened as she’d worked on a school project, thinking that ignoring someone was an odd way to change their behavior. Shae generally confronted anyone who was bothering her and let them know what the problem was and how they could fix it. And then they pretty much left her alone.
She had a feeling, though, that that approach wasn’t going to work with Jordan, though it was just that—a feeling. She didn’t know the man or how he would react. As much as Shae hated backing down—from anything—there was something about the way he held himself and his expression of mixed desperation and determination that gave Shae the strong feeling that she didn’t want to stand between him and his goal without some kind of reinforcements. Shae was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid.
She gave a nod, somehow tore her gaze away from his fierce blue eyes and opened the barn door, stepping into the dim interior.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“I’m analyzing the existing structures.”
“And then?”
“It depends on what kind of shape they’re in.”
“Let’s say they’re in the shape these buildings are in?”
“I’ll work up some costs,” she said. She’d also determine how many guests could be accommodated, how to best address shower and cooking facilities. Mark out riding trails, meet with the Cedar Creek Ranch wildlife and fishing specialist to determine what kind of day trips they could plan from the High Camp. Handle permitting. Put together sample packages with pricing that was realistic for what they had to offer. If everything went smoothly, she might even start talking to contractors about restoration and renovation before the end of her contract.
“So this plan of yours isn’t necessarily a go.”
“Oh, it will be a go.”
He shifted his weight, slipping the thumb of his good hand into a belt loop. Her gaze drifted to the other hand, her stomach tightening involuntarily as she studied the gnarled flesh. Did it still hurt? It looked like hell, the skin twisted and discolored. Jordan pointedly glanced down at his hand, then back up at her. Shae said nothing but she couldn’t keep herself from swallowing uncomfortably.
“How long have you worked for Miranda?”
“Technically I worked for Cedar Creek Enterprises.”
“Miranda,” he corrected and she had to admit he was right. Miranda was Cedar Creek Enterprises. She might have managers, and she might not have an office or be on-site, but nothing happened without her ultimate okay.
“Five years. I started right out of college.” Which had lasted a few years longer than it should have. She’d frittered away her first two years partying and then managed to get a business degree by the skin of her teeth. Mel had arranged for her to get an internship at Cedar Creek and to Shae’s surprise, she’d liked the work. Loved dreaming about possibilities and then putting her plans into action. Matching properties to people. Analyzing potential. She’d been good at it, and she could see, now that she’d lost her job, that she’d appreciated being good at something.
“Worked?” he suddenly said as if picking up on her thoughts.
“What?”
“You said, ‘I worked for Cedar Creek Enterprises.’”
Shae pulled out a notebook and a tape measure from her backpack. “Slip of the tongue.” Because damned if she was going to explain it.
Miranda had said to work around Jordan and that was exactly what Shae ended up doing. He stood silently, making her more aware of his presence by saying nothing than if he’d been talking. And he was doing it on purpose.
Work around him.
Oh, yeah. She was trying to do that, even though having him there made her feel ridiculously self-conscious, which was strange.
When was the last time she’d felt self-conscious? Maybe when Vera had walked her out of the Cedar Creek offices. No, that had been embarrassment. Self-consciousness? Not in her repertoire. She was sure of herself, confident in her abilities. So what was going on?
She’d been dumped and fired. Her world was not as it once was—or as it should be—and she was...shaken. She’d be all right in time, but right now, she just wanted to be left alone to do her job.
“Are you going to follow me the entire time I’m here?” she finally asked as he walked with her to the bathhouse.
“I don’t have much else to do.”
“Then why are you here?” she said, suddenly stopping. “Why not go somewhere where you do have something to do?”
Jordan considered for a moment before saying, “Not everyone has your resources, Shae. Maybe some of us can’t waltz through life getting everything we want.”
“I don’t get everything I want,” she said with a faint sneer, determined not to let him see that he’d just touched a sore spot. “Never have.”
“Could have fooled me,” he said. “If I recall, you were the member of the rodeo team with the best horses, nicest truck, no curfew, no rules...”
“And a boatload of people who disliked me because of it.” The sneer intensified.
“Maybe they didn’t dislike you because of that, Shae. Maybe they had other reasons.”
Shae blinked at him and it took her a moment to say, “Like what?”
“Maybe it had something to do with you being so self-centered that you were only concerned with how things affected you. Kind of like right now.”
“And maybe you can just go to hell, Jordan Bryan.”
“Been there,” he replied quietly.
CHAPTER SIX
JORDAN BRYAN DIDN’T know her at all, but he’d certainly formed one hell of an opinion of her. Shae relaxed her grip on the steering wheel as she approached the Missoula city limits. Why did that bother her so much? She’d always known people were jealous of her and had simply shrugged it off. Why did his assessment bother her?
Maybe because it was so damned direct.
Or maybe because it brought up ghosts of the way he’d humiliated her years ago.
One moment in time. Get over it.
She was over it. It’d been shocking when it’d happened. People didn’t treat her that way, at least not to her face, but she was well beyond it.
She pulled into her parking space at the apartment complex, gathered up her backpack and travel mug, then got out of her dusty car.
“You deserve better,” she muttered to the car as she closed the door. It was obvious she couldn’t keep driving the Audi to the High Camp and she could only think of one solution. Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she dialed her brother’s number as she walked to her ground-floor apartment. She hadn’t taken money from either him or her parents. There was no way she was taking money after their last discus
sion, but maybe she could trade him the Audi for a truck until she got done at the High Camp. Surely there was nothing wrong with that? A trade?
“Hey, Shae.” The connection cut in and out briefly, telling her he was still on the road, returning from a team roping event.
“How’d it go?” she asked, digging her keys out.
“I caught, Steve missed. Twice. Burned that entry fee.”
“Sorry to hear that. Maybe Dillon will go better next week.”
“One can only hope. What do you need?”
Shae frowned as she juggled the keys. Did she only call when she needed something? “I want to trade the Audi for one of your trucks to drive to the High Camp Ranch.”
“How’d you get there today?”
“The Audi.”
“Really?”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
Brant sighed. “I’ll have Sara drop off a truck and I’ll pick her up at your place. I’m only an hour away. Does that work?”
“What about the Audi?”
“If you take Killer, you can keep it.”
Shae bit her lip. Killer was a 1987 Chevy with a puttied door that got about eight miles to the gallon. Could she afford Killer? Did she have a lot of options here?
“I owe you.”
“I’ll add it to your tab,” her brother said with a laugh, but Shae heard a note in his voice she’d never noticed before...long-suffering patience. Had it always been there? Or was she just hypersensitive at the moment because of the crap Jordan had thrown at her?
“Hey,” Shae said before he could hang up. “You remember Jordan Bryan?”
“Of course.”
“What do you remember about him?”
“He was the best bronc rider I ever saw.”
“Anything else?”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
Shae dumped her pack and shrugged out of her jacket. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Vindication, maybe. “Was he friendly, unfriendly, mean, judgmental...? What was he like?”