It was obvious from the way her mouth tightened that she didn’t think of the run-down bunkhouse as her place, but that was tough. It was hers for as long as she was there.
He led the way down the dirt path to the bunkhouse. Before Karl’s grandfather had broken up the original sprawling ranch into three smaller hay operations and sold them, the ranch’s workers had lived in this building. When Karl returned from the service fifty years ago, he’d been fortunate enough to buy the parcel with the original houses and barns.
Taylor followed him into the dingy interior, and Cole allowed that she might have a legitimate gripe about her living quarters, if it wasn’t for the fact she was getting them for free. Taylor headed toward the bathroom, which must have been where she’d encountered the bunny, but Cole crossed to the opposite side of the common area and pulled open the cupboard under the old iron sink. Sure enough, the floorboards there were rotted and broken from decades of water damage, and there was a hole large enough for a rabbit to squeeze through.
He looked over his shoulder at Taylor. “You’re lucky this place isn’t overrun with mice.” Her expression was so comical that he had to clear his throat to keep from laughing. “Karl has some gnarly cats. They do a decent job of keeping the place clear of mice.”
She wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I have a cat, too. I didn’t want to bring him until I was sure of where I’d be living.”
Cole looked over his shoulder at her. “I guess you know now.”
The look she gave him was more of a “We’ll see...” than a “Yes, I do.” She set her keys on the counter and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Let me see the problem.”
Cole gestured at the dark space in front of him. Was it just him, or did everything that came out of her mouth sound like a freaking order?
She crouched down beside him and peered under the sink, frowning as she took in the damage. Then she sat back on her heels. “Will you have time to fix this soon?”
“No.” He pushed himself to his feet without looking at her. “You’ll have to hire someone.”
“This doesn’t appear to be a big job,” she murmured in a reasonable voice.
“Then do it yourself.”
That was when he had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of annoyance cross her face. “I don’t have tools.”
“And I don’t have the time.” He might have had the time if she’d asked, but to simply assume that he would take care of things for her...wasn’t going to happen. “Karl has lots of tools in the shed next to the barn.”
“What’s the problem here?”
“The problem is that I have the lease on this place and you’re not going to come in here and direct my life.”
“Direct your life?”
“I am not at your beck and call, sweetheart. If you have a problem, then you need to handle it. Because you were not part of my lease agreement.”
“I’m out of work, I’ve just been robbed and—”
“Assaulted by a bunny.”
Color flooded her cheeks again. “That’s not funny.”
“Not meant to be.” Much. He took a step closer, halfway wishing that her perfume didn’t smell so damned good. It was a light, teasing scent that irritated him because it made his thoughts drift in directions he’d rather not have them drift. He yanked his thoughts back into line. “Maybe if you’d asked instead of assuming...”
Her chin rose a fraction of an inch. “I don’t think it would have made a difference if I’d asked or told. You’ve decided you’re not going to do one thing to make life easy for me while I’m here.”
“I’m allowing you to stay.”
“So as not to upset Karl.”
“The result is the same. You’re here.”
“Are you always this unpleasant?”
The laugh escaped before he could stop it. “No. Prior to the first of this year, I was a professional pleasant person.” He smiled in a way that felt satisfyingly dark. “But now I’m a farmer and I no longer have to suffer fools gladly.”
“Are you calling me a fool?” She spoke in a slow, measured tone.
“I’m calling you entitled.”
Her eyes flashed, but her expression barely shifted. She, too, was skilled at hiding her true feelings. He wondered briefly what it would take, short of a marauding rabbit, to make her lose her cool—which was not the direction his thoughts should be taking. He was on the farm to enjoy some solitude. Live on his terms, not on the whims of others. And he certainly wasn’t there to cause his unwanted tenant to lose it.
“I have things to do,” she said coolly.
“Me, too.” He headed to the door, stopping at the threshold. “The tools are in the building—”
“I know where the tools are,” she snapped.
“Just making sure.” With that he stepped outside, leaving Ms. Taylor Evans to soak up the ambiance of her new home.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER Taylor was still stewing about her encounter with Cole. Entitled? No. It’d made sense for him to do the repairs. Yes, she could have asked rather than assumed, but in her world, the landlord took care of things like holes in the floor.
She rolled her neck, trying to ease the stiffness out of it. She’d unpacked the trailer and discovered that the losses were less than she’d anticipated. As near as she could tell, the thieves had blindly grabbed boxes, because if they’d looked inside, they wouldn’t have bothered with some of the things they’d taken. She’d lost her flatware, some serving dishes, her lingerie and a box of miscellaneous electronics. The loss of the flatware and dishes she took in stride, but the lingerie...that pissed her off. Bras were expensive, and finding ones that fit properly—that approached nightmare territory, which was why she bought her underwear from a boutique that specialized in bra fitting.
Five hundred bucks of silk, lace and underwire. Gone. Like that.
Let it go. Move on. She could practically hear Karl saying the same words he’d said over the phone whenever she’d failed to ace a test or hadn’t run her best during a cross-country meet. She wouldn’t be sharing this particular loss with him.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Taylor folded the list she’d made and slipped it into her purse. She’d get a copy to the sheriff’s office and another to the insurance company. One more task tacked onto an already full agenda. She still had to return the trailer, buy flatware of some kind—and at the moment she was leaning toward plastic—and hire someone to fix the floor with money she couldn’t spare.
It had to be done. She wouldn’t have minded coming home to bunnies hopping around her house, but mice...she didn’t do mice. The floor needed to be fixed.
So what now? Pick the name of a handyman at random? The way her luck was running, she’d hire a scam artist.
She needed advice in the worst way, and even though she hated to call her grandfather with a sad story again, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number. Miraculously, he answered, so after making certain that all was well on his end, she launched into a description of what Cole had called the bunny attack, leaving out the part where she’d mistaken Thumper for a rat, as well as the part where she’d locked herself in her car. She had to hold on to some small shred of dignity. It was bad enough that her farm-mate had seen her. She ended her story with a description of the damaged boards under the sink.
“So