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Am I safer there?
I crave the stability of feeling like someone has my back. I know Dolly does, but she’s not physically capable of protecting me. She doesn’t have much decision-making power at the ranch—at least not yet. She lets the guys handle things, and she trusts them to take care of her.
He had a literal knife at your throat this morning. It doesn’t get much more dangerous than that.
“What about the other three nights?” I ask.
Holden tips his cowboy hat back, tilting his head to the side. “You’ll do as you please. You can sleep in Duke’s bed, your shitty apartment, your daddy’s BMW. I don’t care.”
And what will you do? Pick up more bartenders?
I fold my arms across my chest, sticking out my chin. “Why? If it’s not about sex, then why do you want me to?”
He stands, his height shrinking me instantly. “Do we have a deal or not, Dixon?”
“What about the knife under your pillow?” I pop my hip out. “Am I going to wake up to it pressed against my throat again?”
“Only if you’re a good girl.”
My core clenches at his words, but I force out a huff. “I’m not sure I’ll feel safe sleeping with you.”
“I’ll let you sleep with a pen under yours—how ’bout that?” He tilts his head, the muscles ticcing underneath the fresh scar on his jaw. “Deal?”
I stare up at him, internally calculating how much money I could make doing this for three months. I only work part-time as their housekeeper and cook. The hours have never been full-time, so this will be more money.
That’s twenty-four thousand dollars, just for sleeping. It would take you a year to earn that here.
I feel myself nodding, my aching feet being the main motivation at the current moment. Also, I could never make two thousand dollars a week at a part-time job anywhere, not in a million years. I don’t know why he wants this from me, but I’m in no position to deny him.
Once again, he has all the power.
“On one condition,” I say.
Cash rejoins us then, spinning the truck keys around on his fingers.
Holden doesn’t ask; he just waits, not looking at me.
“You can’t touch me,” I state, turning around to walk toward the manager’s office to quit.
18
HOLDEN
“It’s like these cowboys haven’t been riding bulls their entire fucking lives,” I grumble. “Jensen! You want me to call your mama out here so she can teach you how to do your damn job?” I holler from my place on the fence, spitting into the dirt.
Jensen slowly rises to his feet, the short cowboy shaking his head. “No, sir. I just went left, and he went right.”
“How am I supposed to sell bulls for riding if my men can’t even stay the fuck on the babies? That steer ain’t even a year old.”
Jensen nods before hanging his head in defeat and walking back to where the chutes are being loaded with another rider.
“Do I need to go over there and give them a first-grade lesson?” I look over at Cash, who hasn’t said more than three words all morning.
Even the way the wind blows is pissing me off right now, and I know it’s because it’s been two nights since I’ve gotten any sleep. My chest and shoulder muscles ache from the push-ups. Last night, I went for a five-mile run at two in the morning, trying to exhaust myself.
I kick at a pile of dried cow shit, debating whether or not to go sit in the truck and try to get a power nap in before all the ranch hands quit on me or I throttle someone. The horses we rode here are tied up to the fence. Maybe I’ll take one for a ride out in the pasture to get some air.
“Old Harry stopped by this morning. Asked me if we’d made a decision on the injections,” Cash says.
