Page 33 of For Fillies and Monsters

Unable to restrain it, I scowl at Dale and push her away. A clang of a gate slamming slices through her giggles, and I quickly remember we aren’t alone.

“He’s the lowest of the low.” Nathan’s nose is held pointedly in the air. “White trash through and through.”

I can’t say there isn’t some truth to his words—I’ve known Gus less than twenty-four hours and he already gets under my skin worse than anyone I’ve ever met. But I can’t help but feel defensive of him. If he was standing here to defend himself, I wouldn’t feel the need. I don’t care what people think of him.

I don’t have any thoughts about him either way myself.

“Knock it off. Don’t talk shit about my ranch hand unless you have personal stories to back it up. I hate gossip.” I don’t mean to spit the words so venomously. At least, I don’t think I do. But they land all the same.

Nathan’s head reels back, his face filled with shock. He looks like I spat on him, and Lord knows I want to—not like that, though. His eyes sharpen at me, filling with something that I assume is his version of anger. Only, on him, it looks more like a feral kitten hissing at someone trying to pick it up for the first time—not scary in the slightest.

Laughable even.

To keep from actually laughing in his face, I head back down the worn path of sand around the alley to the back gate, where Gus is supposed to be. I’m sick of people talking down to me, telling me what to do, who to talk to, how to run this ranch.

If I’m going to burn the bitch down, I will be the one to light the fucking match.

I need to have this conversation with him now, or I might lose my nerve. Leaving common sense somewhere back in the dust, I plow toward my biggest problem. I know I won’t getanswers, but I at least need to say my piece—if only so I can keep up the illusion that I’m in charge. I clamber over the rickety fence, not seeing Gus as I swing my other leg over the pole to jump into the alley. Calves huddle toward the front of the line, bawling and shifting back and forth anxiously.

A large hand clamps down on my thigh like a vise, my leg flexing from the sudden pressure of it.

“What. The fuck. Are. You. Doing?” Gus bites out each word, his black eyes blazing up at me. I should be scared or furious. Either emotion would be better than what I’m feeling.Which is feral.I can’t help but notice how close his mouth is to my knee, as he leans against the fence, pinning my thigh to the railing. And how close my knee is to my pussy.

“If you plan to work here permanently, we need to clear up a few things.” My voice comes out more confident than I feel, and I smile at myself.

His hand bites down tighter on my leg, a small spear of pain racing up my thigh. “Great, looking forward to it. Now get out of the alley and let me do my job.”

“Now, Gus.” His face contorts into a look of pain as I say the words, and I don’t know what part of what I said has that effect on him. It can’t be because I said his name.

Can it?

“What is it?” His hand doesn’t move from my leg, his muscles all but holding my body on the rails.

“Let’s start with the fact that you hate me. And I already have enough of that in my life in this stupid town, so I don’t need it here on my ranch.”

“I don’t hate you.” He sighs, his scowl lessening only a fraction. I cock a brow at him.Yeah, fucking, right.

“I don’t. You’re just so—” He waves his free hand up and down the length of my body as if that’s enough explanation. “And I don’t know how to work for someone who isn’t acomplete asshole. I can be annoyed by you and still admire you. Because I do. I think it’s admirable that you’re out here trying to make this place something, when it’s obvious you’ve been faced with nothing but challenges.” His eyes widen, the words seeming to have been sucked from him. It’s clear he said more than he intended, and that fact does nothing to dampen my growing ache for him.

Fuck, this is spiraling out of control, fast. This morning, he was an asshole who I was sure hated me, just using me for a roof and paycheck, and now? Now he fucking admires me? No. I don’t need this right now. I don’twantthis ever.

His hand drops to his side, and I scramble to stay perched on the top rail. I refuse to dwell on the fact that I miss the weight of his hand on my thigh. This is what I want—need, even.

“Well, okay.” What else can I say? He nods—conversation over.

“Wait.” He groans as I stop him once more from retreating, the sound sending unwanted chills across my skin, and his eyebrows pinch. “Just because you admire me, or whatever, doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to me. I am your boss. If I say to sort the calves a certain way, I expect it done that way. If I want to work the alley, I will work the alley.”

He looks up at me again, his dark pools finding my face beneath the jungle of black curls. He nods curtly, the movement making the erotic curtain of hair sway.

“Anything else?” He’s getting more annoyed by the minute. But I can’t help but feel powerful and in control for the first time since I met him. That’s probably why I open my fucking mouth before I have time to consider my words.

“And you can’t be into me. If you work for me, this will be strictly professional. I don’t have time for dirty old cowboys while I’m trying to rebuild this dump.”

Why did I say that?I could have thought of a nicer, more professional way to word it.

I know why I said it, though—it’s meant as a barrier between us, but not to protect me. To protect himfrom me. Because the way I want him after a single day is bordering on unhinged. Desperate.

He rolls his eyes, grinding his teeth together. That stubble-covered jaw, now dusted with red sand and calf shit, pops and rolls. I bite my lip to keep from moaning at his pent-up anger; his restraint in a situation he is not used to having to restrain himself in. Everything about him is sexy as sin, which is exactly why I have to draw this line in the sand to begin with.

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