Page 26 of The Billionaire and the Runaway

“Thanks.”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “For what?”

She gives me a small smile and her cheeks pinken. “For trusting me.”

“Ariana, you have a lot to offer. Your ideas are amazing and I’ve seen you coming over to the office early and staying late. You work hard. We’re lucky to have you here.”

She bites her lip and I watch her tongue dart out to wet her lower lip when she releases it. I have to look away for a second because I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. I should not be wanting to kiss those lips.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” she says. And then she’s off skipping again back to the office like she doesn’t have a care in the world. This woman is a complete mystery. And I want to figure her out with every fiber of my being.

* * *

It’s Saturday and Kingsley is manning the farmstand. Earl and Buck are patching a fence today and I’m trying to get the hay from the loft down to the ground level. Why we thought to stack it up here, I have no idea. But I’m regretting that right now.

“You need some help with that?” I hear Ariana ask from beneath me.

“Careful, catastrophe!” I yell down. I’ve been teasing her this last week about all her klutzy moments. But mostly, I’m just worried she’ll get really hurt. She’s like a fish out of water around here, but she’s catching on, very, very slowly.

“Hey! I helped cut down that tree this week and I still have all my limbs!” she protests, holding out her arms as proof.

I laugh. “OK, climb on up. Just be careful. The closest emergency room is back where you came from,” I warn.

“Seriously?” she asks as I see her head emerging while she climbs the ladder.

“Yep. One time Earl got pinned by a backhoe and they had to life-flight him because our ambulance would have taken way too long to get him to the trauma response team,” I say grimly as I attempt to not remember that day.

“Wow! Poor Earl! No wonder he’s a grump,” she says with a grin.

“I think Earl was born grumpy,” I offer. “So you can grab those hooks, hook the sides, and then toss it down into that container. We’ll hook it up to the tractor and get it moved out to the fields.”

“Easy enough,” she says as she hooks the side of the hay and attempts to lift it. I don’t even think she’ll get it off the ground. That hay probably weighs more than her, but she can figure that out for herself, and then she can go feed Mooman instead. I watch in horror as she manages to lift the hay and then her entire body goes with the hay over the side and into the container.

“Ariana!” I call out as I scramble down the ladder and jump into the hay, pulling her free while supporting her head with my hand.

She blinks up at me. “Holy shit! I can’t believe I just did that,” she says as she looks into my eyes and giggles.

“Are you OK?” I ask, searching her body for injury.

She rubs the back of her head and winces a little. “I think I whacked my head on one of those hooks when I fell, but otherwise, I’m fine,” she tries to assure me as she struggles to climb out of the hay.

“Oh no you don’t,” I state as I pick her up and pull her against my chest. Cradling her, I carry her into the office and down the hall.

She pushes against my chest. “Eric! What are you doing? I’m fine. I swear,” she grumbles as she squirms in my arms.

“Nope. I’m calling Dr. Brighton to come take a look at you,” I state as I manage to get the door open. Joy doesn’t work on the weekends, which is a good thing because she would be mother-henning the hell out of us both.

“Eric. Put me down. I’m fine,” she protests.

I get her into the living room and gently set her on the sofa. She attempts to get up and I can tell something hurts because she teeters on one leg and then sits back down.

“Do you have like a wrap or something? I think I twisted my ankle,” she mutters as she runs her hand over it.

I’m already on my phone. “Jasper? Any chance Doc can come over? I have an employee who fell and want her to take a look,” I explain.

“Sure thing. Kristen! Eric needs you at the farm!” he yells. I hear mumbling in the background. “She’ll be over in about twenty minutes.” I hear more mumbling. “She wants to know what’s injured?”

“She hit her head and twisted an ankle,” I state.

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