Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ander

When I knock and no one answers, I start to wonder if I’m going to have to turn around and look for a hotel room for the night. The Perkins told me someone would be here but that may not matter since I’m a day early. I try the knob and feel it turn in my hand. Once I’m standing in the living room, I can tell I’m not alone. Sounds of… fighting catch my attention and lead me to the back.

I am wholly unprepared for what I find in the kitchen. There isn’t a fight going on, instead, there’s something that takes my breath and leaves me feeling like I’ve been hit by a tsunami. Standing at the counter with her back turned to me is a woman, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, mumbling to herself as she works a wad of dough the same size as my head into a ball. She punches it, rolls it, and punches it again. Every time she hits it her breath leaves her and her breasts bounce around; the shirt isn’t doing a very good job of holding her in.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Looking at this woman like I am? Staring at her breasts? God, I really hope this isn’t Tabitha Perkins. She sounded… not like this on the phone when I made plans with her and her husband to come out and view the property. I really hope I’m not lusting after another man’s wife. But how can I look away?

How can I not fall the fuck in love with this… force of a woman in front of me?

I clear my throat, but she still doesn’t act like she’s aware of me. And why the fuck do I hate that so much? Why would I resent the fact she isn’t turning her attention my way and keeping it there? What the hell is wrong with me?

She turns to the side of the counter and must catch me out of the corner of her eye because she screams and, all in the space of a blink of an eye, pulls earbuds from her ear while reaching for a large knife on the counter. For a pregnant moment, we stare at one another, her beautiful green eyes clashing with mine as I take my first look at her face. Should I be concerned about the fact she just pulled a knife on me? Probably. Do I care? No, not really.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?”

Shit, she is Mrs. Perkins.

Her eyes roam over me and I can’t help but wonder what she sees when she looks at me. Is she tempted to leave her husband? Would she run away with me?

I never really cared what I looked like before now but suddenly I am proud I kept my physic from my rodeo days instead of letting my body turn to mush while sitting behind a desk. My brain finally turns on and I register the knife in her hand again and the questions she asked me.

“Whoa, why don’t we just take a deep breath and try to calm down some.”

I talk to her the same way I would a frightened animal, low and slow. Her whole stance changes with one of her brows arching up and her hip tilting out in a sassy jut.

“Haven’t you ever heard never to tell a woman to calm down? It ain’t smart. Now, who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”

I have to fight the smile that wants to curl my lips. This little spitfire probably wouldn’t take it the right way, and, in the end, it would only cause more trouble. So would calling her cute. Too bad I'm a man who can't say no to trouble. I let my smile stretch across my mouth before answering her. v “I’m Ander Baxter.” Recognition of my name doesn’t seem to hit her causing me to wonder if this is Mrs. Perkins. “You were expecting me.”

“Are you the farmhand mom and dad hired to help me?”

Mom and Dad? Whoa! How old is this girl and should I take myself out back and end it all for lusting after someone I shouldn’t be even looking at?

“How old are you? And where the hell are your parents?”

She gives me another exasperated look and another cock of those hips that taunt me to put my hands on them. “My ‘parents’ aren’t here, buddy. All you got is me. And I’m old enough to kick your ass if you try anything.”

“You’re here by yourself? And a stranger is supposed to be here with you?” What kind of fucking people are the Perkins?! You don't leave a woman as beautiful as this one alone with an unlocked door and a stranger near her.

“You’re the stranger. So…?” I'm one of them anyway. Not the farmhand one though.

“How old are you?” Her chin comes up. “Tell me now.”

I say it the same way I would talk to someone who pissed me off in the boardroom.

“I’m twenty. Happy?”

Thank God I won't have to go out back and kick my own ass. Still, I’m over ten years older than her…give or take about five more. I should tell her I’m not the hired hand. I should tell her who I am. But I want to help her. I want to be the man she turns to when she’s… as frustrated as she seems to be now.

I find myself nodding. “Yeah. I’m here to help you.”

Whoever the hell the farmhand is, he just lost his job since I’m not about to let some stranger get close to this girl. The only man she’s gonna go to for help will be me!