“I’ll help you.”
His face went blank, then a vicious chuckle fell from his lips. “You? You want to help me?”
“Very much.”
“You think you can drive the tractor, raker, baler, hoist hay onto trailers, stack it in sheds, run new fence lines, fertilize—”
“I can do whatever you can do.” My spine straightened. “I can’t explain it. I know you think I don’t belong here but something about the land says I do. I want to get dirty. I want to work hard. I want you to show me.”
He leaned closer, anger building. “I’m not playing babysitter, not when I already need help with my back screwed.”
“Exactly. Show me and I’ll help you. I’ll do it all.”
He laughed coldly. “You’d last five minutes.”
“You said that before, yet you don’t know that.” I stepped into his personal space. The smell of sun-warmed skin, leather, and pine sap filled my nose. “Give me a go.”
He rocked back, trying to put space between us but unwilling to concede defeat by backing away. “No way.”
“Give me a chance to learn.”
“Nope.”
“I can help you.”
“You’d be a hindrance.” His lips curled, baring his teeth. “A hindrance who I thought was leaving.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t look all that happy about me leaving a second ago.”
He laughed once. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Hope. I was happy. Believe me.”
“Okay then…how about a deal?”
“Another one?” He rolled his eyes. “What’s with you and deals?”
“You never let me announce the last one. And besides, they’re a bargaining chip. Makes dealing with you easier.”
His jaw clenched. “You’re not exactly Miss Easy-to-get-along-with either, you know.”
“Only because you bring out the worst in me.”
He swallowed a growl. “Fine, what’s your deal?”
“Show me.” I sniffed. “Let me work for you, and if I can’t cope with the workload or I’m not doing it to a standard you expect, then fire me.”
“Fire you? I’m not going to pay you, so why would I fire you? You’re not my employee.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I’m your friend.”
“There’s that nasty word again.”
I wanted to stamp my foot in frustration. “Fine. Ask me to leave.”
His face blackened. “Okay then, leave.”
“I didn’t mean right now.”
He threw his hands up. “I can’t win with you. You tell me to do something, yet when I do, you ignore me anyway.”
“I meant I’ll leave if you ask me to go after you’ve seen if I’m a help or a hindrance.”
“God, you’re complicated.” He rubbed his mouth with a dirty hand. “Why does everything have to be so damn difficult with you?”
“This is simple, Jacob. Exceedingly simple. You need someone to help you with the fields. You need to keep your injury a secret. If you let me work with you, Della will think you’re being nice and showing me what I’ve wanted to do since I arrived on your stupid farm, and you get a free labourer who knows how to hold her tongue.”
He went to interrupt, but I held up my finger. “And if it’s not working and you genuinely think I’m failing as a farmhand, then ask me to leave, and I’ll leave. No arguments. No bargaining. Just a packed suitcase and a flight back to Scotland.”
Silence sounded as loud as my thrumming heartbeat as he studied me.
His breath was torn, his hands fisted, yet another fight that I’d promised wouldn’t happen lashed around us like lightning.
Finally, he asked in a harsh voice, “You swear on your mother’s soul that you’ll leave if I’ve had enough?”
I hid my flinch and nodded. “I swear.”
“You’ll go if I say I can’t do this anymore?”
“I promise.”
“And you’ll do everything I say without question?”
I nodded again, tasting victory. “Definitely.”
He looked over my head at the horizon beyond. At the overgrown grass, afternoon sunshine, and horses painting a perfect postcard of his empire. His eyes darted left and right, assessing workload, cataloguing timeframes and requirements.
And slowly, he nodded.
He accepted.
He agreed.
“One week, then we’ll reassess.” His dark gaze landed on mine.
“I can live with that.”
“Good.”
I should’ve just smiled.
I should’ve walked away with a smug sway of my hips and hid my victory grin. But my mind was still full of his parents’ love story. The inner depth of The Boy & His Ribbon and the many phrases that became so heavy with meaning and affection.
And I couldn’t help myself.
Sweeping up on tiptoes, I pressed my lips to his stubble-covered cheek.
I kissed him.
I claimed him.
And all I whispered was, “Fine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jacob
* * * * * *
WARM WATER CASCADED over me.
The shower was supposed to wash away the dirt of camping, the pain of falling, and the god-awful sensation of Hope’s lips on my cheek.
It wasn’t working.
I’d shaved my stubble. I’d soaped my face. I’d done all I could to remove any trace of her kiss, yet my skin burned as if she’d poisoned me.
And what the hell was she doing saying ‘fine’ in that breathy, intoxicating whisper? Did she know what that word meant to my family? Did she say it deliberately?