fraction of an inch closer. “Was he one of them seductive kind of monsters?”
For a moment, she said nothing, but then she looked away. “So how much do I feed them, anyway?”
He should laugh at her sudden nervousness, he thought. But as it was, he was standing so close to her he could barely breathe. Somehow it seemed that all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He cleared his throat. “Here’s the list of rations,” he said, pointing to the typed and laminated paper tacked to the wall. His arm brushed hers. A spurt of excitement rushed up his spine. He jerked his arm away.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a twelve-year-old kid with his first crush. And she wasn’t the kindly librarian type to let him down easy. If he gave her so much as a clue to his feelings, she was likely to smack him up against the wall and spit in his eye. The thought made him irritable. “You think you can do this without screwing up?” he asked.
Hannah drew back a pace. She felt like the Michelin Man on steroids. It was hard to manage a good haughty expression in this ridiculous getup, but she did her best.
“I have two options here,” she said. “I can hire a hit man, or I can pretend you didn’t say that.”
He snorted. “Listen. I don’t mind you poisoning me and my brother, but don’t mess up with the horses. Got it?”
“Fiddle dee dee. Charmed yet again,” she said. “Do you have rolled oats for the mares?”
He stared at her. “Like I said, the list of rations is there.”
“The mares are going to get impacted if you don’t give them more fiber.”
“They never have yet.”
“Colonel Shelby says—”
“Colonel Shelby?” he asked, using her own tone on her.
“Never mind.” She turned away. “You’re the expert, of course.”
“ Colonel Shelby? Who could that be, I wonder? Your father, your lover, your dog?” he asked, following her to the row of bridles that hung on the wall.
“No one to concern yourself with.”
“Your parrot, your piano teacher, your…Your riding instructor!” he said, sounding as if he was certain of himself.
She stiffened. Daddy had warned her to be careful. “No. You were right. He’s my parrot.”
“He’s your riding instructor,” he argued. “In New York.”
She breathed a snort through her nose, hoping she sounded derisive.
“In Maryland, Kentucky, LA?”
“That’s right,” she said, turning to him. “He was my riding instructor in Los Angeles.” She put one mittened hand dramatically to her heart. “Oh, the rides we used to share. Just the colonel and I in Central Park.”
“Central Park’s in New York.”
“Could it have been Hyde Park?”
“London.”
“Glacier Park?”
“Montana.”
“Oh. Maybe it wasn’t Colonel Shelby at all. I think it was Mary Poppins.”
“Fine,” Ty said. “Don’t tell me. Just take care of the horses. Feed ‘em and clean their stalls.”
“Clean their stalls!”
He smiled. She would have liked to have said it was an ugly smile. Instead, it curled the edges of his mouth up enough just to call it entrancing. “Yeah. The wheelbarrow’s right there. And the manure…Well, just follow your nose.”
“Wait a minute, I didn’t—”
“Yeah, you did. Anything that needs doing I believe was the agreement. The stallion’s got his own corral beside the heifer pen. Feed him inside. And don’t forget the herd out back.”
“Out back?” she asked. “You mean you have horses outside in this weather?”
“That’s right.” Tyrel opened the door. “Barn’s not big enough for all of them. This ain’t no ride in the park—Central or Hyde.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Welcome to North Dakota,” he said, and stepped outside.
H ANNAH STAGGERED through the snow toward the house. Her toes were frozen, every muscle ached, and if Spago’s had even given her linguine that looked as limp as her arms felt, she’d send it straight back.
Perhaps she should help Tyrel
For a moment, she said nothing, but then she looked away. “So how much do I feed them, anyway?”
He should laugh at her sudden nervousness, he thought. But as it was, he was standing so close to her he could barely breathe. Somehow it seemed that all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He cleared his throat. “Here’s the list of rations,” he said, pointing to the typed and laminated paper tacked to the wall. His arm brushed hers. A spurt of excitement rushed up his spine. He jerked his arm away.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a twelve-year-old kid with his first crush. And she wasn’t the kindly librarian type to let him down easy. If he gave her so much as a clue to his feelings, she was likely to smack him up against the wall and spit in his eye. The thought made him irritable. “You think you can do this without screwing up?” he asked.
Hannah drew back a pace. She felt like the Michelin Man on steroids. It was hard to manage a good haughty expression in this ridiculous getup, but she did her best.
“I have two options here,” she said. “I can hire a hit man, or I can pretend you didn’t say that.”
He snorted. “Listen. I don’t mind you poisoning me and my brother, but don’t mess up with the horses. Got it?”
“Fiddle dee dee. Charmed yet again,” she said. “Do you have rolled oats for the mares?”
He stared at her. “Like I said, the list of rations is there.”
“The mares are going to get impacted if you don’t give them more fiber.”
“They never have yet.”
“Colonel Shelby says—”
“Colonel Shelby?” he asked, using her own tone on her.
“Never mind.” She turned away. “You’re the expert, of course.”
“ Colonel Shelby? Who could that be, I wonder? Your father, your lover, your dog?” he asked, following her to the row of bridles that hung on the wall.
“No one to concern yourself with.”
“Your parrot, your piano teacher, your…Your riding instructor!” he said, sounding as if he was certain of himself.
She stiffened. Daddy had warned her to be careful. “No. You were right. He’s my parrot.”
“He’s your riding instructor,” he argued. “In New York.”
She breathed a snort through her nose, hoping she sounded derisive.
“In Maryland, Kentucky, LA?”
“That’s right,” she said, turning to him. “He was my riding instructor in Los Angeles.” She put one mittened hand dramatically to her heart. “Oh, the rides we used to share. Just the colonel and I in Central Park.”
“Central Park’s in New York.”
“Could it have been Hyde Park?”
“London.”
“Glacier Park?”
“Montana.”
“Oh. Maybe it wasn’t Colonel Shelby at all. I think it was Mary Poppins.”
“Fine,” Ty said. “Don’t tell me. Just take care of the horses. Feed ‘em and clean their stalls.”
“Clean their stalls!”
He smiled. She would have liked to have said it was an ugly smile. Instead, it curled the edges of his mouth up enough just to call it entrancing. “Yeah. The wheelbarrow’s right there. And the manure…Well, just follow your nose.”
“Wait a minute, I didn’t—”
“Yeah, you did. Anything that needs doing I believe was the agreement. The stallion’s got his own corral beside the heifer pen. Feed him inside. And don’t forget the herd out back.”
“Out back?” she asked. “You mean you have horses outside in this weather?”
“That’s right.” Tyrel opened the door. “Barn’s not big enough for all of them. This ain’t no ride in the park—Central or Hyde.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Welcome to North Dakota,” he said, and stepped outside.
H ANNAH STAGGERED through the snow toward the house. Her toes were frozen, every muscle ached, and if Spago’s had even given her linguine that looked as limp as her arms felt, she’d send it straight back.
Perhaps she should help Tyrel
Similar Books
