Page 10 of The Little Things

“What the fuck?” I grunted under my breath, my vision narrowing as my eyelids pinched into vicious slits.

Hal let out a long whistle, making a show of taking the hat off his head and fanning his face with the brim. “Christ almighty. That the new girl we been hearin’ all about?”

She was. She was also about to be the fucking death of me.

Without giving Hal an answer, I pushed off the railing and stomped in her direction, noticing her rushed pace.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry!” Her eyes were frantic as she skip-walked toward me. “I know you said fifteen minutes, but I got a little turned around?—”

I stopped in front of her, slamming my hands down on my hips, the pads of my fingers digging in deep to stomp out the itch tingling beneath my skin, an itch that had me wanting to reach out and grab hold of her. The frayed denim shorts she was wearing were so short every single inch of her legs, from mid-calf to the bottoms of her ass cheeks was on display. The white racerback tank was cropped, leaving a good two to three inches of her midriff exposed. And those boots. Jesus, the boots she was sporting were a fucking joke. They were the type of boots city folk wore when they wanted to play at country life. The stitching was neon pink, they were covered in something sparkly, and the stiff leather creaked with every step she took. And don’t even get me started on the floppy wide-brimmed hat she was wearing or the oversize sunglasses she currently had tucked in the collar of her shirt.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I gritted out through a clamped jaw.

She looked down at herself, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I—clothes.”

Christ, this woman was going to do my head in, no doubt about that. “Let’s get one thing straight. When you’re workin’ on this ranch, you don’t walk around in shorts, and you sure as shit don’t wear boots that look like they’d fall apart if they got so much as a drop of water on them.”

Her head came back up and I saw those warm brown eyes had cooled considerably, growing sharp. The trepidation that had been there a moment ago was gone, replaced with something much fiercer. And fuck if it didn’t make my dick twitch. He and I would be having a talk later tonight. We needed to come to an understanding that this woman—the barely legal woman—was off limits.

“I know you aren’t about to shame me for what I’m wearing,” she started, her tone scolding. “Listen here, cowboy. I’ve had a really shitty week, and I’m not in the mood for whatever lecture you’re dead-set on giving. If you’re about to tell me I have no business walking around in front of all these guys in shorts and a tank top, I swear to God, I will lose my freaking mind. A woman should be allowed to show as much or as little of her body as she chooses without having to worry about a man’s reaction. If they can’t keep their dicks in line, that’s their problem, not mine, and I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone make me feel like I’m at fault or in any way responsible.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and pinched the bridge of my nose to fight off the headache pulsing behind my eyeballs in time with my heartbeat. “Stop,” I said, holding up my hand to silence her tirade. “Jesus Christ, please just stop.” Her mouth snapped closed so fast her teeth clacked together. “I don’t give a shit what you wear on your own damn time, Hollywood. But this is a goddamn ranch. My ranch. There’s a reason everyone you see is dressed in jeans, sleeves that at least cover part of their arms, and practical boots. We dress for function here. For protection. I don’t give a shit about some cowboy’s boner. What I do give a shit about is you fryin’ all that skin that’s gonna be exposed to the sun all damn day, or being feasted on by bugs. It’s inconvenient enough, havin’ you here and havin’ to stop and explain everything that the rest of us already know, I don’t need to deal with you whinin’ the next day because you dressed like you were ready to spend the day at the beach.”

I caught a flash of uncertainty in her gaze just before she covered it up with a heavy dose of bravado. “First of all, my name is Rae, not Hollywood. And second, I’m not a child. I understand the importance of sunscreen, thank you very much. And you won’t hear me whining about anything. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but quickly decided against it and snapped it shut. If this woman—Rae—didn’t want to take my advice, that was on her. Throwing up my hands, I took a step back, officially done with this interaction. “You know what? Whatever happens is on you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered up at me from beneath that ridiculous hat. “Fine. I won’t.”

“Hal,” I barked out, calling my foreman over before Rae could say another word and possibly cause the vein that I could feel throbbing in my forehead to burst.

I didn’t take my eyes off her as I heard Hal’s sensible boots come to a stop beside me. “Yeah, boss?”

“This is Rae, the new girl. This is her first day, but she’s already made it clear she can take care of herself, so don’t pull any punches.” I turned to my foreman, lifting a brow as I added, “Got me?”

Hal’s Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow of discomfort. “Uh.. you sure about that?”

Rae cut in, answering for me. “I’m capable of doing anything the rest of these guys are. I don’t need to be babied.”

A smile that had to have looked as wicked as it felt pulled at my lips. “You heard the lady,” I said, grinning at Hal like a cat who just caught the fattest canary. “She doesn’t need to be babied. I expect you to treat her like you would any other hand.”

My foreman let out a resigned sigh, knowing as well as I did that this was about to be a shitshow of epic proportions. “You’re the boss.”

Damn straight I was. And if today ended with sending Rae running for the hills and getting her out of my hair, I’d consider it a win.

Chapter Seven

Rae

The bathwater had grown tepid, but instead of getting out, I pulled the plug to drain the clawfoot tub so I could refill it. The scalding water was the only thing that eased all the different pains throughout my body.

I twisted the nozzle, making the water pouring from the spout a little hotter, then squeezed my eyes closed against the burn. I was not going to cry, damn it. Even though every muscle in my body throbbed. Even though every inch of my legs were covered in bruises and scratches. Even though the sunburn on my shoulders and arms left my skin feeling chilled and the blisters on my feet wouldn’t stop bleeding. I would not cry, no matter how badly I wanted to, because I wasn’t going to give that mean cowboy the pleasure of knowing he’d been right.

This had been one of the worst days of my life. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and if the occasional snickers from the men I worked alongside were anything to go by, they all knew it too.

They weren’t rude, exactly, more like they just watched, waiting for me to quit. But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. No matter how badly I wanted to, I pushed myself until I thought I might break, then further when that didn’t happen. If my entire body didn’t feel like one gigantic pulsating bruise, I would have been pretty damn proud of myself. I accomplished more than I thought I could. It was all out of spite, sure, but I’d still done it.

The one bright spot in my day had been Hal. The ranch foreman, which I learned was the highest position a person who didn’t actually own the ranch he worked at could have. He hadn’t taken it easy on me, per say, but he had been kind, at least. When he saw me struggling, he helped. When it was obvious I didn’t know what I was doing, he took his time to explain it to me, exuding patience until I finally got it. When I’d been attacked by a goat that looked too adorable to be as damn mean as it was, he had laughed good-naturedly and assured me Gretel, the asshole goat, treated most people that way so I shouldn’t take offense.

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