Always On My Mind (The Sullivans #8)(6)

Still, she didn’t let her frustration with him impact her gentle handling of the chicken. Or the next dozen of them. Unfortunately, even though she knew what she was doing now, it didn’t mean the chickens necessarily felt like cooperating. And she had to admit her heels weren’t exactly the best footwear for a muddy, gravelly, grassy farm, as the spikes kept getting stuck in the sod. Fortunately, she spotted a plastic dish with what looked like dried corn in it that the chickens seemed to have an inordinate interest in. Picking up the dish, she shook the “treats” and was thrilled when the rest of the chickens came running in at top speed toward the coop. Moments later she had them all safely inside.

All but one, darn it. She responded neither to the treats nor the actions of the rest of her chicken friends.

After the hen dodged her one too many times, Lori kicked off her shoes and, with renewed determination, used her years of quietly gliding across a stage to stalk the chicken.

“Aha! Gotcha!” she exclaimed when she finally had it safe and sound in her arms. The chicken let out a matching sound that had her laughing out loud. “Had a good time messing with me, did you?”

She was almost at the coop when she looked up and saw Grayson staring at her with such an expression of shock that she almost stumbled with the chicken in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her feet. “Is there a snake in the grass?” She couldn’t keep the horror from her voice as she went completely still.

“No,” he said quickly, “there isn’t a snake.”

“Thank God.” She let out a harsh breath, utterly exhausted from the past twenty minutes of chasing chickens on top of her red-eye flight and sleepless night. Heading again for the coop, she took every barefoot step only after careful consideration of the ground in front of her. “I’ll just go put her in the coop and then you can tell me what you want me to do next.”

Chapter Three

Next? She wanted him to tell her what to do next?

Get the hell off his property—and out of his life, taking her laughter with her—that’s what he wanted her to do next. At least, it was what he should have wanted.

But, for some strange reason he couldn’t understand, Grayson couldn’t bring himself to put her back in her car and order her to leave. Plus, after her rough start, she’d actually done a good job with the chickens and he couldn’t justify penalizing her for that.

She shut the coop door for the last time, then walked straight over to the hose and washed off her hands before wiping her hands off on her hips and turning back to him. Unfortunately, that drew his attention back to her spectacular figure. Not, of course, that his attention had ever wavered from it. His heart would have to stop before he could ignore the fact that he had a live, in the flesh, pin-up girl on his farm.

One who wanted to be his new farmhand.

Damn it, he needed to figure out a way to get her to leave before she could get under his skin any more than she already had. Because even in her ridiculous outfit, streaked now with dirt, she was still heartbreakingly beautiful. And, given what he knew of women, seemed to be shockingly low maintenance when it came to dirt and animals. Why wasn’t she losing it over the state of her clothes, her torn stockings, or the fact that her heels were now covered with wet dirt and grass stains? Clearly, something must have gone really wrong in her life for her to think this was a step up.

Unfortunately, it also wasn’t difficult to recognize in her an urge to leave her old life behind and start over someplace where no one would ever think to look for her.

Because that was just what he’d done himself after his wife died three years ago. And for the past thirty-six months, his farm in Pescadero had been his refuge from the past, from ever having to think about what had happened to his wife...or his role in it.

Damn it, he didn’t want this woman to think he cared, but he needed to know. “Are you in any danger?”

“Danger?” She looked at him as though it was the strangest question in the world.

“Are you hiding from someone who’s trying to hurt you? Is that why you’re here?”

A flash of emotion crossed her face before she masked it with a smile that he didn’t buy for a second. “No, of course not.”

She moved like a prima ballerina even while chasing chickens, but obviously wasn’t an actress because she couldn’t lie worth a damn.

“Then should I be expecting an angry husband or boyfriend to show up with his shotgun loaded, demanding to know what I’m doing with his woman?”

“No.” She all but yelled the word at him before taking a deep breath—one that made it hard for him to keep his gaze from dropping to her chest. “I’m not in trouble. No one is after me. I just want a job working on your farm.”

“Why?”

This time she didn’t so much as hesitate before saying, “Because it looks like fun.”

Okay, so she clearly wasn’t going to tell him the truth. But while he didn’t believe for a minute that working on a farm had been her lifelong dream, at least he felt fairly confident that she didn’t have an angry guy on her tail.

Still, she had to go. And he had just the plan to make it happen.

“I need to see how you do with some basic farmhouse chores.”

He had to give her credit; even though she had to know exactly the kind of chores he was talking about—ones that included toilet brushes and floor mops—she didn’t let her smile waver.