Surviving Love - K.F. Breene Page 0,100
they needed, and checked over the minimal cleaning supplies. That done, she hit the bathroom.
Then wished she didn’t.
Why men couldn’t get their stream in a large, round bowl was beyond her. Why they also didn’t wipe it down after they sprayed all over the place was anyone’s guess. Seriously, they’d been peeing all their lives, so how could they still be this bad at it? Did it not strike them as a glaring failure in their skill set?
Shaking her head, she wrote down various toiletries they would need on a regular basis—including cleaning items. Breathing through her mouth, lest that acidic smell turn her stomach, she turned toward the bedrooms just to see if she could spot which one was Mikey’s, and get anything that would make him more comfortable.
“Oh!” She bounced off a large chest and stumbled back into the bathroom.
“Well, well, what are you doing here?” Duke’s large body loomed in the doorway, and he stared down at her with a sardonic glare sparkling with anger.
“Why am I here?” Sara asked, willing courage to come. “Why are you here? You stay in the upper ranch house.”
“Yes I do. But I have a score to settle with that mama’s-boy Boy Scout.” His eyes raked down her body. “But this might be ten times better. Seems he’s taken a liking to you. I’m sure he wouldn’t want any harm to come to his pretty little lady.”
Cold washed through Sara’s body as her chin rose. She refused to take his bait. Bullies liked to pick on the weak, so she couldn’t let him see his intimidation was working. In fact, she’d treat him like she would a bear. Not challenge, but confuse him.
“Right now you’ve just got a pink slip, Duke. Touching me would result in jail time,” Sara said matter-of-factly.
“Ah,” he said smoothly, stepping toward her. “That’s if I leave any bodily fluids. I’ve come prepared.”
Duke brought up his hands to show his black leather gloves. They looked brand new.
“I don’t think gloves will prevent them finding a strangler,” Sara replied calmly, despite her racing heart and sweaty palms.
His eyes sparkled with malice as he wiggled his fingers. “I don’t plan to strangle you. I plan to rearrange that pretty little face of yours.”
“You’re going to beat up a girl?” Sara said with a strength in her voice she didn’t feel. Her grip tightened on her pen. “How did you plan to beat up Mikey? He’d wipe the floor with you.”
“The element of surprise teamed with a weapon would’ve been good enough for him. You, however, don’t need any of that, do you? Just a punch or two—”
* * *
Mikey walked toward the stables with a bounce in his step. He felt good today. Everything was coming together—the girl, the family. He had it all.
He found Christie waiting by the supplies, eyeing him with a smirk. “You’re early. Sara kick you out of bed?”
“You’re early, too. Bored with no one to talk to?”
“Yes! I had to talk to myself for company,” she said, laughing. “So, good news, then, huh?”
“How’d you know she told me?” He reached up for a pitchfork and handed it to her before grabbing a shovel for himself. He wasn’t a huge fan of these menial tasks, but there was no point in complaining about it. Might as well get it done as soon as possible so he could meet up with Sara before his first survival lesson.
“You have a goofy grin on your ugly mug.”
“Yes. Good news.”
Christie stepped over a large pile of horse poop and eyed the stall, deciding where to start. “You going to marry her?”
“I’d like to, but she doesn’t want to be engaged. We’ll probably just be parents for a while before I pop the question.”
“She’s worried about having a baby out of wedlock, though. She tell you that?”
Mike straightened up and eyed Christie. “No. She is?”
Christie rammed her fork under a heap of dirty hay and turned to the bin before answering. “Yeah. She was going round and round about it. I think it’s the peer pressure of how it’s”— she put up some rabbit ears with her fingers—“supposed to be. But it bothers her, I think.”
“I think being a fiancée again would bother her more, though.”
“True.” Christie nodded. “Conundrum.”
“Well, thanks so much for all your help.”
Christie snickered, stabbing more dirty hay.
“So what’s up with Greg?” Mike asked in a nonchalant tone. “You going to let him take you out, or what?”
“Trying to get everyone hooked up since you are?” Christie