shook my foot, which did nothing for the water soaking through my shoe and sock. Easton pretended not to notice as he waited for me at the stable door. But that half-smirk creasing his cheek glowed.
I’d never hit a man. I wasn’t the guy who got into brawls as a teenager. Scars and bruises and broken nails were unattractive and unappealing. But the energy radiating through me at that moment wanted nothing more than to unleash on the smug man in front of me. The problem was, I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or fuck him.
“I ain’t got time to slow down. I’m behind as it is. You gonna be able to keep up?”
“How am I supposed to talk to you if you’re racing around?”
“I’m sure a smart man like you can figure it out.”
He heaved the big door open, and a gust of warm, barn air hit me in the face. My nose wrinkled of its own violation.
“Bay? You in ’ere?” Easton called as he strolled in, poking his head down a long row before heading in the opposite direction.
“In back.”
“Head out to the field and take care of my girl. We just got back from town. Left my saddle and stuff on the fence. You can head on over to help Matthew and Chrissy out after.”
A young kid appeared, dressed similar to Easton in jeans, a button-down, and a hat. Unlike Easton, the kid wore rubber boots to his knees instead of cowboy boots. He couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one with freckles across his pale cheeks and muddy gloves to his elbows. “For real? You want me to help Matthew?”
“For today.”
“But I ain’t finished muckin’.”
“I’ll take over.”
The kid flinched, and I guessed by his reaction this wasn’t the norm. The kid, who I thought he called Bay, gave me a once over and quirked a brow. He didn’t ask questions. Shedding his gloves, he hitched a thumb over his shoulder from where he’d come. “Got up to old Scotty’s stall. Just started. Makin’ rounds clockwise.” He frowned and made a motion with his finger. “No, the other way. Counterclockwise.”
Easton grumbled something I didn’t catch, and the kid handed him his gloves, which Easton pulled on.
Shuddering, I tucked my hands into my pockets as I breathed through my mouth, unsure how I felt being surrounded by so much… farm and grit. Those gloves were filthy. How could he touch them so casually?
The kid took off, and Easton marched to the back end of the stable where a horse door sat open, and a pitchfork, shovel, and wide broom sat against a wall beside a half-full wheelbarrow. The scent of ammonia was much more intense in that area. I gagged, but Easton didn’t seem to notice.
Before taking up where the kid left off, he marched to a storage area near the wall and exchanged his cowboy boots for tall rubber boots that went halfway to his knees.
He headed inside the stall and scanned before grabbing the pitchfork.
“Talk. You have twenty minutes, and even when you think I’m not keepin’ track of time, I am. It takes twenty minutes to muck out a stall. Baylor got this one started, so I reckon there’s about fifteen minutes of work left. I’ll go slow. When it’s done, you’re done.”
He stabbed the pitchfork into the straw-covered ground inside the stall. Glancing around, I saw no place to put down my briefcase, so I couldn’t retrieve the paperwork Dad had given me. This was not how I conducted business.
“Improvise,” I said under my breath. “Don’t let the stupid hick win.”
“I heard that. You call me a stupid hick one more time and you’re out the door. I’ll toss you myself.”
“Okay. I’ll talk.” But I would not apologize for the hick statement. “Like I said yesterday, I’m from Edmonton and representing Montgomery—”
“Developing. Yeah, I got that. You really gonna use your precious twenty minutes regurgitatin’ things I already know?”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t lash out.
Easton hitched a brow and paused his raking. “I ain’t stupid, Lachlan. Just ’cause I work on a farm don’t mean I’m not intelligent.”
It took everything in me not to correct the asshole's grammar and prove him wrong.
“Your family is in financial trouble. Your bills are behind, and you aren’t bringing in the revenue to cover them. You’ve already had trouble with bill collectors. Your father was already turned down for a second mortgage. In a few short months, you won’t have a choice