She should have left. She’d told Kyle what she’d come to say, witnessed an exchange between Kyle and another woman that she hadn’t been meant to see, and now she was done. But you could have cut the tension in the barn with a chain saw, and she’d been a little bit worried about Kyle. Sure, he’d grown up on the ranch, but that didn’t automatically make him accident-proof.
No one mentioned anything about Kyle, so he must be okay. But she wanted to see him for herself. Once she’d assured herself of it—strictly in her capacity as his daughters’ caseworker, of course, no other reason—then she’d leave.
Finally, the truck he’d taken off in rolled into the yard and he swung out of the cab, muddy and looking so worn, she almost flew to his side. Except the little blonde bearskin rug beat her to it. Emma Jane. Or as Grace privately liked to call her—The Tart.
Like a hummingbird auditioning for the part of the town harlot, Emma Jane fluttered over to Kyle, expertly sashaying across the uneven ground in her high-heeled boots, which drew the attention of nearly every male still milling around the yard, except the one she was after.
Kyle pulled long lines of flat, muddy hoses out of the bed of the truck, dragged them to the spigot on the water tower beside the barn and attached one, using it to hose off the other.
Which was also pretty ingenious in her opinion.
Emma Jane crowded Kyle at the water tower, smiling and gesturing. Grace was too far away to hear what she was saying, but she probably didn’t need to hear it to know it was along the lines of Oh, Kyle, you’re a hero or the even more inane Oh, Kyle, you’re so strong and brave!
Please. Well, yes, he was all of those things, no question, but Grace didn’t see the point in shoving half-exposed breasts in a man’s face when you said them.
The strong and brave hero in question glanced up at Emma Jane as he performed his task. And smiled. It was his slow, slightly naughty smile that he’d flashed Grace right after kissing her senseless, the one that had nearly enticed her back into his arms because it was so sexy.
It was a smile that told a woman he liked what he saw, that he had a few thoughts about what he planned to do with her. And there he was, aiming it at another woman!
That...dog.
Breathe, Grace. He was just smiling.
She crossed her arms, leaning forward involuntarily though there was no way she would be able to pick up the conversation from this distance, not with the clatter going on in the yard, all the hands still chattering and watering their horses at the trough running between the water tower and the barn.
Then Emma Jane placed her talons on Kyle’s arm and he leaned into it. Something hot bloomed in Grace’s chest as she imagined him kissing Emma Jane the way he’d kissed her. He said something to Emma Jane over his shoulder and she laughed. Grace didn’t have to hear what was being said. He was enjoying Emma Jane’s attention, obviously.
Or he was just washing a hose and having a conversation with his employee, which was none of her business, she reminded herself. She didn’t own Kyle, and he’d certainly had female companions over the years who weren’t Grace, or he wouldn’t currently have two daughters.
She’d just never had that shoved in her face so blatantly before.
Now would be a great time to leave. Except as she started back to her car, Kyle stood and walked straight toward her, calling to one of the hands to lay the hoses out to dry before putting them away. Emma Jane trailed him, still chattering.
He was coming to talk to Grace. With Emma Jane in tow.
Or Kyle could be walking toward the barn. Grace was standing in the doorway.
But then his gaze met hers and the rest of the activity in the yard fell away as something wholly encompassing washed through her.
Seven
“Ms. Haines.” Kyle nodded.
And then walked right past her!
Had she just been dismissed? Grace scowled and pivoted to view the interior of the barn. Kyle squeezed Emma Jane’s shoulder at the door of the office and The Tart disappeared beyond the glass, presumably to go sharpen her claws.
Then he strolled across the wide center of the barn and disappeared around a corner.
Without a single ounce of forethought, Grace charged after him. She’d waited around, half-crazy with worry to assure herself he was okay, and he couldn’t bother to stop and talk to her? How dare he? Emma Jane had certainly gotten more than a perfunctory nod and a platitude.
She skidded around the corner, an admonishment already forming in her mouth.