Wrangling the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch 3)

Grayson rolls his eyes, and I wave before the three of them head toward the door. I’m fortunate enough to make my own schedule as long as I get my work done each week. Jackson and Kiera focus on their tasks, and I focus on mine.

Since the dining room is empty, I look for any opportunity to get into the kitchen with Maize. I notice the dirty dish tub is full and decide to take it back there. She can’t yell at me if I’m helping.

I peek through the little window in the door to see if she’s alone. When her employees are nowhere to be found, I kick it open and waltz in. Maize immediately spins around and pins me in place with a death glare.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” She scowls, putting her hands on her hips. It’s the cutest fucking thing ever.

“Helpin’ you with these,” I explain, glancing down at all the dirty dishes. “I’m a gentleman, ya know?” I set the tub by the dishwasher and spin around to face her.

“I didn’t ask for your help, so you can leave,” she tells me sternly.

“What’s your problem, Maize Bishop?” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “You throw daggers at me like you hate me or something.”

“I never said I hated you.”

I take a step toward her. “So you like me then?”

Her nostrils flare. “Definitely didn’t say that either.”

“Then what is it? It’s either one or the other.”

“I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion.” She takes a step back as I inch closer.

Smirking, I continue, “Now that’s not true. I think you know me quite well. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. As I’ve said before, you must have me confused with someone else.”

I shake my head in amusement. “Trust me, Maize. I’d never forget you. Or our night together.”

“Sure you weren’t dreaming or something?” She barks out a laugh, but it’s fake.

“Alright then, why don’t you give me a chance? Let me take you out,” I offer, watching her throat tighten as she swallows hard.

“I don’t date men who work on the ranch,” she informs me with a mediocre grin. “It’s not personal.”

Furrowing my brows, I move closer, studying her. “Is that so?”

“Yep.” She quickly walks around me, and I turn to watch her unload the dishes. “I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…”

“I don’t mind. I already offered to help,” I gloat, then stand beside her. “So let me.”

This time, I don’t give her a chance to deny me and quickly take over, rinsing off the crumbs before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Fine, whatever. I need to chop veggies for lunch anyway. Since Sandra and Jane are both sick with the stomach flu, my hands are full.”

Realizing she’s taking care of everything alone makes me want to do even more. I go back to the dining area and pick up the rest of the dinnerware, then load the dishwasher again. Thank goodness it’s a large commercial one that only takes minutes to cycle through. After that, I wipe down each table and make sure they’re set for lunchtime.

Once the dishes are finished, I have a hell of a time trying to figure out where they go. After a solid minute of looking, Maize finally takes pity on me.

“Over there.” She points at a shelf. “On the right.”

I look, and sure enough, there are the others. “Thank you.”

“You really didn’t have to stay.”

“Seems like you needed some company today. It’s quiet in here.”

“I don’t mind being alone,” she says. “Silence doesn’t happen much ’round here. My family usually stops in, or I turn on some music. I enjoy listening to it while I cook.”

“You’re really a great chef, you know,” I tell her genuinely.

“You’ve chosen to eat the same things for the past month, so I can’t really trust your judgment.”

I cock my head with amusement. “So you notice what I put on my plate every day, huh? Interesting.” I stroke my jawline, knowing I’m getting to her.

“No, and you’re a lunatic. It’s time to go now.”

She’s right. I’ve been here for over an hour and have a ton of shit to do, but I don’t want to leave. “Okay, fine. Same time tomorrow?” I quirk a brow.

Maize huffs. “No! I already told you, I don’t date men who work on the ranch, so you can stop doing”—she waves a frustrated hand in the air—“whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Only tryin’ to be your friend.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? You don’t have any guy friends?”

“Not exactly,” she breathes out. “And you’re reminding me why I don’t.”

I slam a palm to my chest. “Ouch.”

“Well, I warned you.”

For a moment, I thought she would let her guard down, but she’s smarter than that. As soon as she showed a sliver of her vulnerabilities, it’s like she realized it and locked it away.