Page 27 of Stockman's Sandstorm

She was trained to know her subject, to gather data, and to think of every scenario that gave her the advantage of winning over the opposition, yet nothing had prepared her to be one on one with someone like Ashton Riggs.

He turned around to face her. The corners of his lips turned up, giving her a sinful smirk, more playful than before.

Why couldn’t she speak? Why was she helpless to fight this chemical attraction drugging her bloodstream? Why did she get out of bed?

It took only a few steps before he stood in front of her, to place both hands on the wall beside her, caging her in. ‘No.’

What was the question? Why couldn’t she move? Did she want to?

‘Ash …’

‘Harper.’ He stepped closer, his body now breaching her personal space. It was a space she’d cautiously protected all these years, yet this man had entered it so easily.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he reached out to take a strand of her hair and gently tuck it behind her ear, sending shivers across her skin at the simple touch.

The corners of his lips slowly turned up, before showing his gorgeous smile, the one with the dimple that normally made her sigh. But this time it sent alarm bells screaming in her head, as a wave of heat washed over her, making her mouth water with lust.

Then her sanity finally showed up.

This man knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The flirt.

She shoved him away. ‘Boundaries, Ash. You may be my boss, but I’m not here for you. I’m here for your son, the little boy you’re avoiding.’

She scooted back to her room. There, leaning against the cool wooden door, as the air conditioner rattled to fight the heat, she forced herself to take deep breaths to slow her hammering heart.

Ash was a player. And Harper didn’t trust players. They were as bad as politicians, who only played nice when they wanted something, or were racking up favours to exploit later. And a man like Ash could easily exploit someone like Harper.

She was here for Mason. And only for Mason.

Thirteen

Wearing thick goggles for his drone, Ash flicked the dials on the handheld console, and his favourite toy was up and in the air. Sounding like a swarm of bees, it followed the red dusty track to the fence line where the view was simply epic. It was like something straight out of a Hollywood movie, where he was the cameraman panning for the perfect shot.

He steered the drone to swoop low between the gaps of the metal gates. Spun it around to dance over the barbed wire fence, then dashed across to check over the cattle milling around the large bale of hay.

‘Oi!’

Ash lifted his goggles to find Ryder, covered in red clay from fixing the dam, glaring at him. They were all filthy, but the job was done. ‘Why aren’t you out checking those troughs?’

‘I am.’ He slipped his goggles back on. ‘I’m saving fuel by using the drone. Stop stressing. If I need to clean them, I’ll add it to my list.’ He steered the drone along the dusty paddocks to the water tank. ‘Tank’s full on the northern edge of Emu Plains. Hey, do we get to name any of the places on this station? Jonathan and Mandy are naming their paddocks at Sandlot Station.’

‘We have names for the paddocks already. Where’s your kid?’

Ash shrugged as he steered the drone, grinning at the roos running from the noise as it skimmed over treetops and headed for the next trough. ‘He’d be with …’

‘Harper.’

‘Yeah.’ Sweet little Harper. He didn’t know what came over him last night, to stalk her like that, especially when they’d agreed on her terms of employment as the nanny. But she was also a female who’d taunted him in her nightgown last night, alone in the dark.

He had to have another shower—a cold one—after their encounter in the kitchen last night.

But he’d make sure to leave the pantry light on at night from now on, so Harper never had to stumble around in the dark again. He even found some water bottles, which he’d left inside the fridge for her to find, too.

‘Have you seen your son today?’ Ryder’s voice was like cold steel, grating through Ash’s thoughts.

‘Nah. You told me to do the troughs, so I’m doing the troughs.’

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