Amy Fetzer - Wife For Hire

“It’s a piece of junk and dangerous, Hayley.”

“And it’s my piece of junk, not yours.”

“If you’re worried about your things, I had them delivered to your room.”

How good of His Lordship, she thought. “It’s my car, Nash.”

His brow knitted. “Lurlene is held together with tape, panty hose and gum, darlin’. Give her a decent burial and get another.”

“If I could afford one, don’t you think I would be driving it?”

“I’ll buy you one, then.”

Instantly she dumped the bags back in the trunk. “Get down off that horse so I can yell at you right proper.” She pointed to the ground in case he misunderstood.

Smothering a smile, he swung down, tugging the fingers of his gloves as he walked closer.

She was in his face. “I don’t need your charity, Nash Rayburn. And I resent the hell out of you taking charge of my car.”

“If you want it back, I’ll just make a call.”

Her anger withered a bit. “Yes, I do. You do that. Right now.”

He nudged his hat back. “I was only trying to help.”

“You were manipulating. Doing what you damn well please because you have the money. Here’s a novel approach,” she said, wide-eyed and sarcastic. “How about asking me how I feel?”

“You would have said no.”

“But you went ahead, pretty as you please.”

“I can’t have you driving that thing.”

His superior look made her want to kick him. “Why? An embarrassment to you?”

“No, dammit, you could get hurt.”

She held his gaze steadily, yet her voice wavered. “Any more than I already have been shouldn’t matter to you, Nash.”

She turned away and grabbed the grocery bags, sidestepping out of his reach when he tried to help.

“Hayley!”

“Don’t talk to me till Lurlene is sitting next your stuck-up sedan!”

She didn’t talk to him. She wouldn’t even acknowledge him at dinner until the tow truck pulled away. And then she just gave him a “Don’t try that again or you’ll be sorry” glare and headed into the house, his five-year-old traitors tucked by her side.

He looked at the rusted blue two-door coupe. Then he kicked it. The bumper fell off the back.

“I saw that!” came a voice from the house, and Nash had to smile. Having Hayley Albright around certainly made life interesting. Again.

He’d been fine.

Just damn fine, controlling his desire for her, avoiding her when he wanted to touch her so badly. Until he’d walked around the back of the house, purely by chance to look for his misplaced pocket knife, and saw her naked.

Well, almost naked.

Bare-chested, Nash slammed the ax into the wood, its splintering crack vibrating over the hillside.

She might as well have been naked for all the skin that bathing suit hid.

He kept his back to the house and put another log on the stump, bringing the ax down again. Then another and another, until the waistband of his jeans was drenched with sweat. It didn’t do a damn thing for the unsatisfied desire running heavily through his blood.

He split another log, then threw down the ax, and stacked the wood for curing till winter. He didn’t look toward the house or the pool deck. Because she was there. In a hot pink bikini. Tonga style. He closed his eyes and briefly shook his head. He was in real danger and hoped the ranch hands didn’t get a look at all that flesh.

She’d cause a stampede.

He added another split log to the seven-foot-high stack, then swept up the ax again. The blow sent two halves flying outward.

“Hi.”

Head bowed, Nash propped the ax head on the stump, his wrist on the handle top. He didn’t turn around. “Hi yourself.”

“Aren’t you even going to look at me?” Hayley asked.

“You still wearing that scrap of nothing you call a swimsuit?”

“Yes, I am.” He heard a light laugh. “Nash. This is silly.”

He flipped the ax up and placed another log on the stump. He split it and even without looking, he felt her flinch.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nash.” He could hear the hurt in her voice. “If this is about the car—”

“Go on back to the girls,” he interrupted.

“Gladly, boss. Enjoy your own company.”

Nash cursed under his breath. It wasn’t the stupid car. It was her! Seeing her, wanting her, even arguing with her slammed desire and regret through him. The guilt over what he’d done, what honor and duty had pushed him to do at her expense made him angry. With himself. He didn’t deserve her kindness. He didn’t deserve her thoughtful gestures or her concern. Or anything else for that matter. And that he couldn’t alleviate his guilt in telling the truth was a burden that wore on him the longer she was near. He wanted to, but his sins were just too ugly. She’d never forgive him, anyway, he thought, and wished the two weeks were over and she was gone. And at the same time he prayed they’d never end. Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see what you get, he thought.

He glanced over his shoulder. She was walking down the hillside toward the pool where his daughters were having a snack in the shade of the stone veranda. He absorbed everything about her as she moved, noticing not only that she wore a cover-up over that too-hot-tobe-legal bikini, but that her head was bowed and she hugged herself.

He felt like a first-class heel. Then his gaze fell on another splitting stump a few feet away. A pitcher of ice water sparkled in the hot sun, beside it a glass and wrapped sandwich, a little plastic horse on a toothpick stuck in the center.

Nash groaned.

Something had to be done. Soon.

Or he was going to go just plain nuts.

Nash rushed the horse, trying to get the animal to obey his commands, but it wasn’t going well. He attributed that to his wandering mind, and that irritated him to no end. He hadn’t seen Hayley since breakfast, and that had been a little strained, especially after his unfounded harshness the day before. Last night after the girls went to bed, she’d disappeared into her room, and he hadn’t bothered her, afraid that whatever he said would just stamp “You’re so hot, I can’t even think straight” across his forehead. She made him too aware of the fact that he was a man and she was a beautiful woman.

And how good it had once been between them.

And how he’d blown it.

He heard giggles and glanced up, catching a glimpse of Hayley and his daughters heading for the chicken coop. She was wearing jeans, boots and a lime-green T-shirt, like his girls, and he thought how cute the three of them looked. Hayley’s red hair gleamed in the sunlight.

“They sure do like her,” Seth said from a few feet away.

“Yeah,” Nash said, not taking his eyes off the trio.

“Want me to go see if they need help?”

“She’ll come for it if she needs it.” One thing he remembered about Hayley was that she could do just about anything she set her mind to.

Nash turned to the horse, swinging up onto the bare back. The wild thing bucked, sending his hat to the ground, yet he held on, riding out the mare’s temper. Slipping off, he led the horse around the ring, his daughters’ laughter breaking through his concentration. He glanced and waved before his gaze swung to Hayley. She looked worried. He scooped up his hat and turned back to the horse, trying to ignore her. But his gaze kept straying to her as the girls showed her how to spread a little grain on the ground, then fill the troughs for the chicken and pigs. They collected eggs and he could see Hayley’s sour expression from here. He smirked. Well, at least she’ll get a taste of real ranching, he thought, then remembered how Michelle had protested against going within twenty feet of the coop. He should have seen that coming, recognized her true distaste for ranching. Or was it just him? Irritated with his train of thought, especially when he could scarcely drag Michelle’s image from the waste of his mind, he led the horse into the barn. He’d just handed over the currying to Jimmy when he heard his daughters scream.