chin of hers would spear him in the chest. As far as he could tell, she looked ready to argue.
“Okay,” he said finally, giving her a wary look. “Gil, can you get this car out of here and park it up by the barn? Miss Chastain, give Gil your key and he’ll take care of the car for you.”
He was glad to see that she obeyed without question, meekly handing over the car key to Gil, who quickly started the vehicle and pulled away. Jace winced at the sound of metal scraping against the wall, then against the broken mailbox post, but Gil gave an apologetic wave and disappeared up the long, graveled driveway.
“I’ll put the hose away.” Jace took the end of the garden hose from Rocky and began looping it as he did a rope. He didn’t need to do this, but he always thought better if his hands were busy with something. What was he supposed to do with her? he thought furiously as he made loops in the plastic hose. Why hadn’t that Rachel Burrows girl they’d hired shown up as she’d promised? She’d signed a contract. Didn’t that mean anything? Blast it, he didn’t want to deal with this. He hadn’t even wanted to be head of the school board. He didn’t have kids. He would probably never even have kids. Why should he need to do the job?
Because it was his turn. In a community as small as Sleepy River, everyone took a turn at some job. This year, Jace was head of the school board.
Disgruntled, he nodded toward the other man. “Rocky, you take her up to the house.”
“I’ll go get your bag for you, miss,” Rocky said. “As soon as Gil parks your car for you.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said, and Jace could hear determination in her voice. She turned and stumbled around until she located her purse on the ground. She hitched the strap over her shoulder as she said, “I can take care of everything myself. If you’ll point me to the cottage I’m to occupy, I’ll be fine.”
Obviously, she thought that once she got inside the teacher’s cottage, they couldn’t dislodge her.
“It’s not ready,” Jace said.
“Not ready?” Now he heard a thread of panic in her voice. Hands thrust out, she turned from one to the other of them. “What do you mean?”
“You weren’t…I mean, Miss Burrows wasn’t expected until next week. No one’s lived in the cottage for a couple of years. It needs to be cleaned. No, I’ve got a guest room. You’ll stay there until we get this straightened out.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue further, but then snapped it shut. Rocky could be a gentleman when he wanted to and he turned on the charm now as he said, “Don’t you worry about a thing, miss. We’ll get you settled in and things will look a lot better in the morning.” Quickly, he took her arm and supported her as he guided her toward the ranch house. Jace could hear him talking quietly all the while, much as he did to a skittish filly.
Even as he wondered what in blazes he was going to do now, Jace finished winding up the hose and followed Rocky and Alexis to the house. Gil joined him as he reached the porch steps and the two of them walked inside together.
Jace nearly stumbled over his own size twelve feet at the sight that greeted him in the living room. Beside him, he heard Gil draw in his breath, and then choke out a cough.
Rocky was transfixed by the woman who stood, blinking in the glare of the overhead light Jace had flipped on when he’d run from the house. She didn’t notice the men because she was busy inspecting the very masculine-looking living room.
A sideways glance at Gil told Jace that he, too, was thunderstruck. Jace wouldn’t have been surprised to see the boys’ eyes begin to slowly twirl cartoonlike in their heads. Their jaws had gone slack. Jace hoped they didn’t start drooling.
He couldn’t blame them, though, he thought as his own gaze was drawn back to her. She was a beauty all right, he admitted grudgingly.
Curly chestnut hair cascaded to a slim waist. Her face was fine-boned with almond-shaped green eyes and lips as luscious as a fresh peach. She wore sage green slacks and a matching cotton sweater that, even streaked with soot, made her look cool and unruffled.
A feeling he hoped was dread stirred within him. Great, he thought. Just great. It didn’t matter what she called herself. He already knew her name. It was Trouble.
All this room needed was a chair made out of steer horns and cowhides, Alexis thought. The furnishings were dark, covered in scarred leather or faded Mexican serapes. There was a huge rag rug on the floor to lighten the somber mood of the room. For all its masculinity, the room felt invitingly comfortable. In fact, she wouldn’t mind curling up on that old sofa right now and falling asleep—after crying her eyes out for half an hour.
A low noise that sounded like undisguised irritation broke off her interest in the living room. She turned to see all three men staring at her. To her surprise, she realized Gil and Rocky were twins. They appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties, with dark eyes and thick black hair that looked as if it needed attention from a barber who knew his way around a haystack. Both men were staring at her as if they were in a trance. She’d had that look turned on her before and she automatically began to stiffen her spine and give them a cool look, but then she realized that they only saw her as an attractive woman, not as a marriageable princess. Gratefully, she gave them a warm smile that seemed to buckle their knees.
“Gwarp,” they said in unison and leaned on each other for strength.
Laughing softly, she looked at Jace McTaggart who was scowling ferociously. Her amusement died an instant death. This most definitely was not a man to be charmed. In fact, right now he looked mad enough to spit bullets.
Everything about him looked tough. He could fit right into an old western movie where it was often hard to tell heroes from villains.
This man could have played on either side of the law.
He was tall, at least six feet two, with broad shoulders that strained the seams of a white T-shirt, muscular arms and big hands that rested now at the waist of unbelted jeans that rode low on his hips.
His face would have invited comment anywhere. His dark brown eyes were deep-set and searching, his nose was long and straight over a firm mouth. Even his hair, as dark and rich as mahogany, was straight, swept away from his broad forehead, and precisely cut. It was as if nature had put him together using a ruler and T-square, leaving off any softening effects. She felt a jolt of dismay, followed by a surge of warmth when his eyes lifted to meet hers.
“Miss Chastain,” he began. “You don’t belong here, but we’ll discuss that in the morning. Right now Rocky is going to fetch your bag while Gil shows you to the guest room.” He nodded toward the back of the house. “It’s right through there and it has its own bathroom.” He gave his two young employees a significant look. “As well as a lock on the door. Feel free to use it.”
Alexis wanted to argue, to tell him she certainly belonged here, but she was too tired. “All right,” she said with a meekness that surprised her.
“Rocky. Gil,” Jace said. “Get moving.”
The two men finally seemed to come out of their trances. With a blush, Rocky turned and plunged toward the front door, but was brought up short by the sight of a pile of rags beside it.
“Hey, Jace,” he said, bending to pick it up. Alexis recognized it as the blanket she’d grabbed
