Page 32 of Ashes of the Past
She jumps, spinning around to face me. I stifle a laugh as I see this adorable woman in some sort of karate stance, thinking that’s going to protect her if I was an attacker.
“Jack! You scared me.”
“Were you going to karate chop me to death?” I say drily as I cock an eyebrow at her.
“If I hit you in the throat, it gives me enough time to run away,” she says with a harumph. She raises her chin defiantly as she looks directly into my eyes.
I cross my arms, leaning against the stall door. “Sure it will, darlin’. What are you doing?”
“I’m saddling up. I need to check the fences and the pasture before I make breakfast, get Livy to school, and then be at the shop to open by ten. It’s what I always do.”
I arch a brow. “Not anymore, you don’t.”
Her hands pause on the saddle she’s lifting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve got it covered,” I say, nodding toward my horse, already saddled and waiting. “That’s what I was about to do.”
Her mouth drops open and then closes just as quickly. She shakes her head, her grip tightening on the saddle.
She’s used to doing everything herself. She’s going to fight you every step of the way.
“I appreciate it, Jack, but it’s just easier if I handle it. I know where the weak spots are, and it’ll save time.”
“Easier for who?” I ask, stepping closer. “You can’t keep doing everything yourself, Brynn. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m not trying to do everything,” she snaps, her voice rising. “I’m just trying to make sure things get done right.”
“And you think I can’t?” The words come out sharper than I intend, and I see her flinch. “I know how to run a ranch, Brynn. But you have to let me do it.”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t say anything. She turns back to the saddle, her movements jerky.
“You don’t have to micromanage this place anymore. There’s a reason your father hired me, and unlike these other assholes, I’m not going to get paid for doing nothing. I earn my keep,” I continue.
She whips around on her heel and pins me with an icy glare. “I’m not trying to micromanage.”
“We must have very different definitions of the word because you absolutely are.”
“I’m just… I’m used to doing it myself.”
“Well, it’s time to get unused to it,” I say, stepping closer. I put my hand on top of hers and gaze into her eyes. “I don’t think you heard me. I’m checking the fence line and the pasture. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You can’t tell me…” she hisses.
“That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’,” I say in a husky voice. “You’re not going to do my job, so I suggest you unsaddle the mare and go on about your day.”
She huffs indignantly, but I don’t back down. I can see the fire in her eyes, but when she realizes that I’m serious, I can see her eyes soften. She starts to relax a little.
“I don’t…you can’t tell me what to do.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate with your dad, Olivia, and the shop. Let me take care of the rest.”
It’s like something in her snaps with my words, and she quickly rips her hand out from under mine. She keeps working, ignoring me, and I feel my patience wearing thin. I reach out and grab the saddle, pulling it out of her hands.
“Go back inside, Brynn.”
She whirls around, her eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me what to do, Jack. I’m your boss, and you won’t talk to me like this.”
“Someone has to,” I fire back, my voice low. “You’re running yourself into the ground, and for what? To prove you don’t need help? I get it—you’re strong and capable. But this isn’t about that. It’s about trusting me to handle things.”
