Roped In (Armed & Dangerous #2)(13)

“Hmm?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Thank you for handling my schedule. I promise I was going to do it.”

“I know, but I needed something to take my mind off of Nick. I’ll talk to you later.” We said our goodbyes and hung up.

I didn’t want to leave my room, but I was starving. There were no smells coming from the kitchen, which only made me hungrier. A can of beans wasn’t going to cut it tonight. The only reason I ate them all week was to prove a point. I wouldn’t do that every day.

My dirty clothes really did smell like horse shit, so I piled them in the laundry basket and took them downstairs. The laundry room was right by the kitchen. I started up a load, then made my way into the kitchen. My cheeks flamed when I saw what was on the counter.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I snarled. There was a bottle of water and a pack of beef jerky. I could see Blake through the window with that smug grin of his, but the * didn’t know I was watching. He rode off on the black horse and disappeared across the pasture. “Payback’s a bitch.”

I searched through his refrigerator and cabinets until I found everything I needed. It wasn’t going to be much of a dinner, but at least it would be hot and substantial. I was starved, so anything I could cook up would be heaven, even if it was eggs, bacon, and frozen biscuits. Ever since I was a kid, I loved breakfast for dinner.

As quick as I could, I whipped up the eggs and bacon and threw the biscuits in the oven. He might think I’m Hollywood and not be able to wipe my own ass, but I was going to show him. Once everything was done, I put everything on my plate and ate it all. I’d never eaten so much in my life. I was down to my last piece of bacon when he waltzed through the door.

“Damn, something smells good in here,” he announced.

“Have a nice ride?” I asked, turning to face him. Why did he always have to have his shirt off? It was distracting, making it hard to hate him when he looked like that.

He took off his cowboy hat and strolled over to the stove. “You didn’t cook me any?” he asked.

I held up the last bite of bacon and tossed it in my mouth. “I did, but I ate it all. Here,” I tossed him the bag of jerky, “bon appetite.” Not waiting for him to speak, I turned and walked back to my room. But I did catch the look on his face. Absolutely priceless.





The next morning, I went right out to the barn. Blake was already out there with Snowflake, so I grabbed the rake and went straight to her stall. I gagged a few times from the stench, but after smelling it all morning, I got used to it. I may not have been raised on a ranch, but I was pretty damn good at adapting.

The day went by slow but once Blake was done with the horses, he lounged out on the hay bales and fell asleep. What the hell was with that? Gritting my teeth, I finished cleaning the stalls. “Have you heard anything from Robert?” I asked, raising my voice with each word.

He tilted his hat and acknowledged me before lowering it back over his eyes. “Nope. He’ll call when they find something.”

I slammed the rake against the wall and started toward the house. “All right, well I’m done here. I’m going inside.”

Jumping off the hay bale, he rushed up behind me. “Hold up, princess, there’s something else I need you to do.”

“Seriously?” I scoffed. “I’ve been shoveling your horse shit all day. I might be in hiding, but I still have a job to do.”

He motioned for me to follow him. “Like what?”

Rolling my eyes, I followed behind him. “My songs don’t write themselves. As soon as I get back home, I’m going to be expected to have some songs to record. Being knee-deep in shit doesn’t exactly give me inspiration.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You write your own songs?”

“Shocked?” I countered.

We walked inside and past the staircase. “A little. I thought most of the singers out there only sang shit other people wrote for them.”

“Just goes to show how ignorant you are.”

He let the comment go and led me into a bedroom where clothes were scattered all over the floor and the bed was unmade. Mouth gaping, I stepped over one of the mounds of dirty clothes.

“Uh, what are we doing in here?”

The room smelled exactly like him, all done up in earthy tones; very cowboyish, with fur-skinned rugs on the floor. There were plaques on the wall, but I couldn’t see what they said. Maybe they were given to him for being Douchebag of the Year. Even on the fireplace mantle there were pictures of him and other people, including one with him and a young woman. I wondered who she was.

He waved toward the mess, grabbing my attention. “I need you to clean all this up. I have a date tonight and I don’t want her seeing it like this.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Lifting his shirt, he tossed it on the dirty mound of clothes and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Not at all, princess. You need to hurry before she gets here. I don’t think she’ll like seeing another woman in my room.” Turning his back to me, he lowered his jeans and boxers to the floor, and grabbed the towel that was on his bed, wrapping it around his waist.

I didn’t see his backside because I was blinded by anger. As he turned back around, I picked up an armful of his dirty clothes, and hurled them at him as hard as I could. His hands lifted, making him lose his grip on the towel. “Clean up your own damn room, *! I’m out of here.”