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“Coffee?” I ask, praying that my flushed neck isn’t visible to him in the dimly lit kitchen.
He moves forward, crowding me against the cabinetry with one step. My lower back is wedged up against it, but he still leans in close enough until his upper thigh is pressed against my hip bone. I gasp, barely audible, my right hand reaching back to grip the countertop to gain some kind of physical leverage.
“You don’t work here anymore,” he grits out, his rough, scratchy tone causing goose bumps to rise on my arms.
Is he trying to scare me?
I lift my chin. “I don’t take orders from you. You’re not my superior.”
My chest is rising and falling rapidly as we face off.
My father’s words are still fresh in my mind. “He’s a hardened criminal, a murderer.”
My pulse is a fluttering flag in the wind, wildly unmanaged.
Why does he have to smell so damn good though?
Like leather and cedar and musky soap. It fills my nostrils, weakening my knees. Holden flexes his jaw, and I catch his eyes as they roam down over my chest briefly before returning to meet my gaze.
Ha, gotcha.
“Are you trying to piss me off, Dixon?”
He leans farther down, reaching his hand up to brace it against the upper cabinets. His lower half is pinned against me, sending a flood of warmth over my already-flushed skin.
I respond in my sweetest, sultriest voice, “You sure you really want me to leave? Who will you mess with when I’m gone?”
I tilt my head to the side, calling his bluff. I hold my breath, willing him to smile, laugh, even just to back away in defeat. The room gets warmer with each second that crawls by.
He finally moves, reaching behind me with his other hand, sending a shock through my nervous system when he grips the back of my neck firmly with his strong fingers, reminding me just how big and dangerous he is. I’m completely at his mercy, powerless to fight him off if he wanted to actually hurt me.
He tilts closer to my ear until his breath sends a shudder down my spine. “I have no interest in my brother’s sloppy seconds.”
He takes a step back from me, immediately causing my nipples to harden with the cold air that hits me.
What the fuck does that mean?
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
Is he suggesting that because I dated Duke in high school, I’m … used up?
He lifts his chin, folding his muscular, tanned arms across his chest. He’s wearing a soft-looking black T-shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders, the emblem on the front so faded that I can’t make it out. His whitewashed Wranglers make it hard to keep my eyes up, but really every part of him is delightful to look at.
Bastard.
“I told you Friday night that you’re done working here. If I have to change the locks on the house, I will. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding similar employment on another ranch after your display at Old Harry’s.”
I release the oxygen from my lungs, counting to ten slowly in my head before responding.
“Not that. What did you mean by sloppy seconds?”
He blinks at me, like my question is somehow confusing. Footsteps interrupt us, and Dolly’s voice breaks through the trance we were both in.
“Good morning! How’d you sleep?” She walks up to her brother, pulling him into a side hug. Her mood since his release is still upbeat, apparently.
Holden hugs her back, but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “Fine.”
She seems to sense the tension, her smile dropping as she inspects his face before switching her gaze to mine. “What happened?”
