Page 31 of Paper Horses

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

My eyes jumped up to see Hudson’s grimace as the brown horses fell from my hand. His sight flicked to them before it returned to me, his expression guarded.

“I…I was looking for the Wi-Fi password,” I stuttered, still in the throes of the memory, the joy of that girl echoing through me.

“It’s in the kitchen.”

“You kept them,” I said as he turned away.

His steps ceased, his body going rigid. “I told you I always would.”

He left the room, his words leaving me unsettled, just like the necklace had. Just like everything had all day. A juxtaposition of hatred and sentiment that didn’t balance out and left me confused. But I supposed I was just as confusing, the memories meddling with my ability to think clearly, to keep my cold demeanor in place.

I put the horses back where he had them and followed him out of the room.

“I want to go over the numbers.”

“Sounds fantastic.” He walked to the refrigerator and pulled a beer out, popping the cap off with the quick flick of his hand. It dropped onto the counter, rolling with a sound that captured the silence until it stopped, and the silence became stifling.

“And I have some ideas.”

He took a swig and lowered the bottle to the counter.

“Let’s hear them.”

“But the numbers.”

“Can wait. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

I pursed my lips, not liking how bossy he was. This was my job. My money had saved his ranch, and technically he worked for me and Gabe.

“Fine. Give me the password.”

He pulled a pen and a piece of paper out of a drawer and slapped them on the counter, keeping his palm on them.

“Ideas first.”

I cocked my head, trying to understand this gruff, demanding asshole and trying not to leap over the counter and strangle him.

With an emphasized shove, I pushed the computer aside.

“Draw out the ranch. I want a broad perspective of the land and where the barns and facilities are located.”

He eyed me. “Why?”

“Just do it and stop being so grouchy.”

His jaw twitched before it hardened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. He grabbed the pen and began sketching.

“You still draw?” he asked, not looking up, as I did a double-take.

“God, you’re a confusing man.”

“What’s confusing about the question? It’s a yes or no answer.”

“Not that,” I said, running a hand through my hair and hating how knotted my curls were. “This hot and cold thing. One second you sound like you want to strangle me, the next you’re asking civilized questions albeit in a very rough manner.”

“You do that to me. Like a fucking scale that tilts from hate to…” He trailed off, the pen freezing, and I inhaled. His eyes leaped to me, settling on my lips as they parted. “Never mind. Just answer the damn question.”