Page 128 of We Redeemed the Rain

I looked down, the blood in my veins a simmer, dangerously close to boiling over again. “I can’t talk to you ‘til I blow off some steam. If you wanna work, prove it.”

He rolled his eyes, but bent to pick up the bale, his knot of hair flopping to the side. After a few minutes of agonizingly slow movement, he upped his pace. We stacked all the feed then I handed him a pitchfork. “Gotta muck and bring the horses in before dinner.”

He sighed but disappeared into a stall, calling back. “Am I invited to dinner?”

“You can have a plate, but no, you ain’t invited.”

“Hold up. Aplate? Don’t tell me you got that woman cooking for you.”

I said nothing, but felt my fingers tighten around the worn wooden handle of the pitchfork. I was both happy and annoyed by the stall walls. They shielded me from his smug expression, but were thin enough I could still hear him.

“Who is she?”

I pretended not to hear.

He raised his voice a little. “Sammy, who’s that girl? Where’d you get her?”

“She’s a guest on the ranch. Just stayin’ for a few weeks.”

“A guest, huh?” He laughed. “Do you get handsy with all your guests?”

I shook my head, my jaw feeling like it might snap.

“If that’s Meadowbrook’s policy, maybe I should work in the hospitality department. Any openings?”

I shook the pitchfork, sifting out the wood shavings. The tool was a lifeline. Gripping it kept me from running into the next stall and beating the crap out of him.

“Does she cook you dinner?”

No response from me.

“Sammy, come on. Talk to me. Does she cook you dinner?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about Bea.”

“Oh, that’s right. Because she’s yourfriend.” He moved into the next stall down, his voice getting further away as wheelbarrow tires squeaked. “Got a good ass on her, doesn’t she?”

I dropped the pitchfork in the shavings and put my hands on my hips. I took two seconds to steady my breathing in order to hear him better. “You better quit while you’re ahead, Cooper.”

“Why? You aren’t going to capitalize.”

I lifted my hat, raked a hand through my hair, and resettled it with a deep breath. “Capitalize? What are you talkin’ about?” He better not say what I predicted he might.

He laughed and paired my old name with strong profanity. “Are you blind? I’ve always known you were a coward. But, man, you need to wake up and smell the coffee. You’ve got a woman on your ranch. Awoman.And God only knows how long it’s been since you’ve had some action.” His laughter morphed into a tsk of pity before he perked up. “But hey, if you aren’t willing to do the honors, I’d be happy to.”

My stomach flew into my ribcage. I turned on my heel and headed straight for Cooper’s stall as he continued, “The sweet ones are always surprising.”

He blanched when he saw me charge in.

I lost control. Grabbing the end of his pitchfork, I jerked it out of his hands and tossed it out of reach. Before Coop could back away, I fisted his t-shirt, reared back, and clocked him right in the lip.

When I released his shirt, he stumbled backward, smacked hisbackside against the wall, and slid down into the chips. One hand cradled his face and the other lifted in surrender, wild fear in his eyes.

He didn’t swing back. Probably due to shock. I’d never laid a hand on Cooper. Ever. We brawled as kids, obviously, but I’d never swung at him to hurt him. My role was the protector. We were hurt enough.

A moment of silence spread between us as we stood there, breathing heavy.

I looked down at him, chest heaving, knuckles aching. “Say somethin’ else about her. I dare you.”

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