she would have put her hand behind her back like a scared little girl. Instead she lifted her chin and stepped forward with the confidence of a woman who’d been collecting eggs all her life. The hen took one look at her and decided she meant business. She didn’t so much as ruffle a feather as Elizabeth stole an egg from her.
It wasn’t until she saw the egg in her hand that Elizabeth realized what she’d done. Shocked, she laughed, “Oh, my God! I did it!”
Delighted with herself, she was practically glowing, and John couldn’t take his eyes off her. He tried to convince himself that she was a snotty, snippy Englishwoman who was far too bossy for his taste, but he had to admit that she had guts. She clearly had a fear of chickens, but not only had she not admitted that, but she’d accepted his dare in spite of it. How could he dislike a woman like that? Especially when she was so damn beautiful? When she laughed, her whole face lit up. And he’d never been able to resist a woman who liked to laugh.
You’d better start resisting her, the voice of reason drawled in his head. She’s the boss’s sister. How do you think Buck would feel if he knew you had the hots for his sister?
He didn’t have an answer for that, didn’t even want to go there. He needed his job and he wasn’t risking it for Elizabeth Wyatt or any other woman. All he wanted to do was work and get on with his life. That wasn’t a hell of a lot to ask.
Then why, he wondered, did he have such a difficult time remembering the woman was off-limits? Okay, so she was beautiful. Her skin was like cream, and when she smiled, he felt the punch of it right in his gut. But he wasn’t looking for a woman, and even if he had been, she was the last woman on earth he would have chosen. Not only did she have the power to sign his paycheck, she also had no intention of living in Colorado, or the United States, for that matter. As soon as Buck returned from his honeymoon, she’d return to England. That’s where her life was…and, no doubt, the man she was currently involved with.
And there was a man, he thought grimly. There had to be—a woman with her looks and class didn’t go through life alone. Not unless the men in England were idiots, and he didn’t think that was the case.
So why are you standing here, staring at her like she just stepped out of some crazy fantasy? Get the hell out of here and get back to work!
Blinking as if he’d just stepped out of a fog, he took a quick step back. “That’s all there is to it,” he said coolly. “Grab one of the buckets by the door and just start collecting eggs.”
“Then what?”
“Take them to the house and rinse them off, then dry them and store them in the refrigerator. If you have any problems, I’ll be in the shop working on the tractor. I’ve got to start planting by the end of the week—”
“Planting? You farm?”
He nodded. “We plant alfalfa in the lower pastures below the tree line. And if I don’t get it in soon, the crop will come in late and we’ll be lucky if we cut the fields before the first snowfall. I’d better get back to the tractor. Call if you need help.”
He strode out with nothing more than a wave, leaving Elizabeth with the chickens. Given her druthers, she would have turned and followed John out, but she knew he was right. This was as much her ranch as it was her brother and sisters’ and she needed to know how every phase of the place operated. Her heart thumping, her jaw set at a determined angle, she approached the next chicken with a glint in her eye that warned her she was going to be Sunday dinner if she so much as squawked. She didn’t.
When she didn’t see John for the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth told herself it was probably for the best. He was an employee, and he was the type of man who wouldn’t ever let her forget that. Not that she wanted to, she reminded herself grimly. Spencer’s betrayal was still fresh in her mind and heart and probably would be for a long time.
The quickest way to get over one man is to find another.
She winced at the old adage. No. No. No! She wasn’t going there, wasn’t even going to consider it. If she knew nothing else about John Cassidy, she knew he wasn’t the kind of man a woman walked away from easily. Buck and Rainey would be back from their honeymoon in a month, and she didn’t know where she would be after that. Colorado? London? Maybe even California or New York. It all depended on where she decided to open her shop. Wherever it was, she wasn’t leaving her heart behind.
The matter settled, she spent the rest of the day in Buck’s office, acquainting herself with what it took to run the business end of the ranch, and she didn’t once look out the window for John. She thought she heard the tractor several times, but she determinedly pulled her attention back to the ranch’s financial statements.
By the time she shut the computer down, it was going on nine in the evening. After sitting at a desk for so many hours, she was stiff and sore and in desperate need of a long soak in the tub. When she stepped into her bedroom to collect her nightgown and robe, however, the thought of a bath flew right out of her head when she spied the note lying on her pillow.
A frown etched her brow. What the dickens was John up to? It had to be from him, of course—they were the only two people on the ranch. But why would he leave a note on her pillow? Or, for that matter, come into her bedroom? If he had something to say to her, all he had to do was knock on the office door—she’d been working at Buck’s desk all day.
Her heart in her throat, she stepped over to the bed and without touching it, studied the single piece of paper that had been folded in half. On the outside, her name was sloppily written in a script she didn’t recognize. She hadn’t seen John’s handwriting, but she would have thought that his would be neater.
Don’t touch it, a voice in her head warned. Go find him and see if he wrote the note.
Hesitating, she considered that option, but what if it really was from him? Then she’d feel like an idiot. Making a snap decision, she picked up the piece of paper and pulled it open.
LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN!
Her blood suddenly pounding in her ears, she dropped the note lightning quick. John was responsible for this, she told herself, and desperately tried to believe it. He had access to the house and motive—he didn’t like answering to her. He probably thought that if he could convince her to leave, Buck would come back early from his honeymoon and he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore.
As far as theories went, Elizabeth knew it was half-baked. But she wouldn’t allow herself to consider anything else when she was completely alone in the house and so scared she could taste it. Picking up the note by the corner with fingers that were far from steady, she hurried downstairs and outside to John’s cabin.
“I want to know what the meaning of this is right now!” she bellowed the second he opened the door to her. “If you think you can scare me into leaving, then you’ve wasted your time.”
Surprised, he scowled. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“This!” she snapped, and waved a piece of paper in his face.
Without a word, he snatched it out of her hand and read it, only to glance up at her sharply. “Where’d you get this?”
“On my pillow,” she replied. “And don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it. You had to do it. You’re the only one here.”
If she thought he would deny it, she was doomed
