Page 12 of Shared on the Ranch

Still, he waited. He didn’t know what she would choose, and he wouldn’t say or do anything that would sway her in one direction or the other. If he’d learned anything from his time on Earth, it was that people had to make their own choices for any change to happen.

She wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she was making a point of not looking at him, holding her body so taut to avoid it that she reminded him of a tightly coiled snake. One that would attack at any moment. He could feel the anger coming off her in defiant waves, all aimed at him while she did her best to pretend he didn’t exist.

And then she made an angry scribble on the paper in front of her and shoved it back across at Nate.

His boss was very, very good at his job and his expression did not change one iota as he picked the papers up and filed them in his drawer. “Alright then. I’ll expect to see you tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll discuss what we brought you here to do. Until then…” He trailed off meaningfully.

Chandler heard it as his cue, and he took her by the arm. Before he could help her up, however, she shot out of the chair.

“I can walk myself, thank you,” she snapped, green eyes narrowed and blazing fire.

A lesser man would have shirked back. Thankfully, he’d had years of training focused on dealing with hostile people. He set his hand on her shoulder, marveling once more at how tiny she was. “I’m going to take you to your room.”

She jerked back, but he only tightened his hold.

Not enough to hurt her, but enough that she would know no matter how much she struggled or fought, she wouldn’t get away until he was ready to release her. He could feel it when she decided to comply. Her muscles loosened and she speared him with a glare.

He chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t be wearing that look for long. And compliance—even a mulish, angry compliance—would be fine for now.

“Come see me once you get her settled, Chandler.”

He arched his brows at Nate’s command, but nodded. Then he ushered Chyanne out of the room. The toppled barrels had been moved out of the way, though they hadn’t been restacked yet. That was a two-man job, and they all had their hands full currently. But when Chyanne’s gaze lingered on them, a thought hit him.

“That was you too, huh?” He chuckled when surprise, then guilt flashed across her pretty porcelain face.

The guilt vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced with a stormy expression. “So what?”

“You really take that ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ stuff seriously, don’t ya, darlin’?”

With a mighty wrench, she pulled free of his hold and crossed her arms. “If you’re going to make fun of me—”

“That’s what you think?”

“Why, does that surprise you?” she snapped with so much venom he was shocked it didn’t take corporal form outside her mouth.

“Yeah, kind of. You don’t seem the type.”

Chyanne did a double-take, her eyes assessing him.

They’re a nice color, when I can actually see them.When they weren’t narrowed or glaring, they were an enchanting emerald with flecks of gold.

“I don’t seem the type to care if people make fun of me?” she asked, sounding wary.

“Nope. Why? Did I get that one wrong?”

“I care,” she said, albeit reluctantly. Her arms were still crossed, but her posture had loosened until it looked like she was hugging herself.

“In that case, I apologize for my mistake.”

Her eyes shot to him, narrowed once more, flicking across his face. He didn’t think she would say anything, but she surprised him once again. “You’re… you’re not what I expected, either.”

“A monster?” he guessed, laughing.

“Well, yeah. You seem… softer than I’d expect you to.”

“Funny, I was just thinking you seem harder than I’d expect.”

She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with his assessment, but she didn’t respond.

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