She seems to think she's proving something. Fine. Let her prove whatever the hell she likes, it's not going to matter in the end, because regardless of how many bundles of stretchers, no matter how much she probes that she can do the work, he's not selling. That seems to have gone right over her head.
Philip grabs the other end and stands up with it. She grabs hers, and they walk together. She seems to be struggling a little bit with it. The ties dig into her fingers—Philip has a good position to watch everything she's doing.
The way her hips are swaying as she walks, the way her knees move together, the view of just the start of her thighs under that charcoal-colored skirt…
And so, with all that on display, he's very careful to keep his eyes on anything else. The ties are digging into her hands something fierce, but when they finally lift it up a little ways more and she dumps it into the bed of the truck, she hops up into the back to guide it into the corner.
And, to his surprise, aside from a little rubbing, she doesn't make any mention or hint at her hand hurting. Even though he knew it must have. There'd been a time that Sara might have helped that way, too.
Before the baby, when he'd told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't helping out around the ranch any more. Before he'd hired on three brothers looking for work.
"How many more of them have we got to do before you'll talk to me?"
"Oh, only eight or nine more before we take them over to the site. That should take most of the rest of the day, I think."
She balls up her hands in a fist, and then flattens her hand back out and looks down at it. No blisters yet, he sees. She's got pretty hands. Soft hands. Hands that it'd be a shame to ruin, even if she is some corporate—
Philip holds himself back. Corporate or not, it's impolite to think that way about a woman. And more than that, about a woman that looks like this… practically unconscionable.
"You want to keep helping, I'm not going to stop you. I ain't selling my ranch, but if you think it'll help, you can do what you like." Philip opens up the chest by the door. "But you'll tear your hands up. Here's a pair of gloves, see how those fit."
He tosses the old gloves at her. Once upon a time they were supple. A good pair of gloves. None of them at the ranch have had need for a pair of small, women's gloves in a lon
g time, and they've stiffened up. Still, they'll be nice and sturdy to keep the ties from digging into her hands.
She fits them on, and they seem to be good enough. She takes the front, he takes the back. It's a mistake, same as it was the first time, because he's got all the opportunity in the world to watch her walk, watch her back-side moving, and get ideas that married men don't get.
Ideas that make his chest hurt and make him want to call it a day. But he's not going to.
The next bundle he fixes that mistake and takes the front for himself before she can get to it. But she does come back for the third bundle, and the fourth.
And the fifth. And eventually ten bundles have filled up the back of the truck as much as he's comfortable doing. He settles into the driver's seat of the new truck.
It's good and comfortable inside, climate controlled—everything that he could have asked for in a truck. The woman climbing into the passenger seat, notably without permission, might have been a welcome addition once upon a time, too.
The seat-belt goes across her body in a way that draws attention to some of her more obviously attractive features. Philip tries his best not to notice. It's easiest that way, if he can try to ignore it. Try to ignore her, at least as much as possible.
He shifts the truck into drive and starts.
"I don't know what you think you're going to get by followin' me around."
"Are you saying I'm not permitted on your property, Mr. Callahan?"
"If you're going to help, then frankly, I don't give a damn where you are. Long as you know, in the end, the answer's still going to be the same."
"Then I'm staying until you change your mind."
"It's not going to happen."
She should really learn to listen. The woman seems to have a stubborn streak in her a mile wide. It's a trait that Philip likes in a woman. A little bit of bite, a little fire.
But it doesn't matter what he likes in women, because he's not interested in finding out what she's like, as a woman. He had his chance with women, and those days are gone now.
He had his shot, and now she's up on that hill, by that sapling. A man is lucky to get one. He doesn't get two.
Chapter Four
Morgan Lowe is starting to feel really confident, today. Absolutely confident, in fact. He may not know it yet, but Phil Callahan is definitely starting to warm to her. She can see it right on his face.