7. Little mouse. [Part 2]
1334 Words
"What?" I ask when Cass calls my name.
They’re both sitting on the mattress, eating the sandwiches Rose made.
"I said bring us those chocolates you buy in the city. I want Lia to try them."
I huff because, does Cass know Lia is from London? Doesn’t her fancy accent give her away enough? I bet we’re just country bumpkins in her eyes. I doubt those chocolates are anything new to her.
"Uncle Becket…" Cass insists.
"Fine," I grunt and dig through the basket for the chocolates. I toss two at Cass and keep one for myself. While Lia opens hers, I eat mine, sitting on the only chair in the place, next to the little dining table where there’s also a laptop.
The wood creaks under my weight, but I’m so distracted by the sketches on the screen that it’s only when the chair legs snap and I hit the floor that I realize sitting there wasn’t a good idea.
Fucking hell.
Cass laughs while Lia’s eyes flash with irritation.
"There goes my only good chair," she mutters.
I glare at her as I stand up.
"I’ll bring you another one along with a f*****g bed. You can’t keep sleeping there."
"Excuse me?"
"I said I’ll bring you a chair and a f*****g bed…" I run a hand down my face, frustrated. "s**t, Lia, what do I have to do to get some common sense into your head?"
"Where I sleep or what I eat is not your problem."
"I’m gonna start praying for patience because, honestly, I have no f*****g clue how to deal with you!"
"Then just don’t deal with me!" she yells too, springing up from that damn mattress I’m starting to hate. "Stay out of my way and everything will be perfect!"
Shit.
Shit.
There goes my attempt not to fight.
Fuck!
She really gets on my nerves, but I try to settle this once more, letting the words out as calmly as I can. "You’re not sleeping on that damn mattress one more night. I don’t want to carry that on my conscience."
"You think you own everything and everyone, don’t you?"
"Actually, he’s only like that with you," Cass’s words stop our argument, and we both look at her, speechless. "What? I’m just saying the truth."
"That’s not true," I growl through my teeth.
"Oh, then I must be crazy," Cass shrugs, all innocent.
I scratch my eyebrow, trying to find a way to convince Lia about the bed, but the truth is, her head’s so thick I know any attempt will be useless.
And then there it is, the way she looks at me and shuts down again, putting up walls to keep me out like I’m nothing.
Can a woman get more exasperating than her?
I start to feel sorry for my brother.
"What did you say?"
Oh s**t, I said that out loud.
Too late to take it back.
"I said I’m starting to feel sorry for Lucas because living with you must’ve been absolute hell."
"Excuse me, but at least I was married," the insolent brat says. "Meanwhile you’re already an old man and still completely alone, like the grumpy bastard you are and always will be!"
Old man?
Did she just call me old?
"How the hell did Lucas put up with you?"
"No, the real question of the year is, how did you two come from the same mother? Are you sure you’re siblings? Maybe you’re adopted? Because I refuse to believe you share the same blood."
I stare at her for a long moment and she stares right back, never backing down. I swear we both bristle from the mutual dislike we feel. And I can’t believe this is the same little broken-winged bird that showed up at the ranch that first day, because where there were once broken wings, she now shows me sharp and pointed claws.
"You’re unbearable," I mutter under my breath and head for the door.
"Wait!" she calls after me.
Just out of curiosity, I stop, and then my anger spikes when I see her pulling bills out of her wallet to start that same old game again.
She’s going to pay me for the food.
"I’m starting to feel like a prostitute."
She scoffs.
"Your services couldn’t be that expensive, Becket."
"Oh, so you’ve got experience. You’ve hired those kinds of services before, huh, Lia?"
"Asshole."
I roll my eyes and turn to leave, taking long strides to get away from her.
"I told you to wait!"
"Go to hell, porcelain doll," I shout over my shoulder.
"Becket!"
I stop because her hand grabs mine and forces me to turn around. This time she shoves the bills into my hand and closes my fist around them. I try to shake my hand loose, but the damn woman won’t let go, putting up a fight. We both growl, practically communicating in grunts that barely make sense, but get the message across.
Then we feel it — the stares.
With Lia still holding my fingers closed around the bills, we both look around.
Perfect. Another show.
At least five workers are watching us with curiosity.
Lia blushes and her shyness returns. I can almost see her shrinking into a fragile shell. Just like that first night, she steps a little closer to me, like she’s seeking my protection from all the stares.
So those claws are just for me?
I’ll keep that in mind.
"What are you looking at?" I growl, making sure each of the ranch hands gets a dose of my glare.
Immediately, like my voice flips a switch, they all return to their work.
Lia glances around shyly, making sure she’s no longer the center of attention.
"But dragging the mattress didn’t embarrass you?"
She gets my point and steps away from me again, that blush brushing her cheeks as she shyly avoids my gaze.
"That day was a matter of survival."
A genuine laugh escapes me. A damn laugh at all the visceral and contradictory layers that make up the puzzle this woman is.
I’m never going to know what version of her I’ll get, am I?
She’ll always keep me on my toes, never able to predict her next move.
I rest my hands on my knees, leaning forward a bit as another laugh slips out.
Survival?
"But doesn’t the survival instinct kick in when I offer you a f*****g bed?"
"Why do you have to be so vulgar when you talk?"
"Excuse me, weren’t you the one cussing me out like a sailor a few hours ago?"
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish; I’ve left her speechless. I feel a smile stretch across my lips, her eyes following the movement with a spark of anger. Lia opens her mouth again, probably to fire back with some obscenity, but with a single glance around, she notices more workers approaching, steps closing in on us.
And that throws her off.
I raise an eyebrow, urging her to give me her fight, silently amused, waiting for her reaction.
Then Lia stomps her foot on mine and runs off to the cabin like a little mouse hiding from the wicked cat.
I laugh again, watching her with amusement.
So she shows me claws in private, but turns into a tiny mouse in public?
"Did she just step on you, boss?"
"Huh?"
Beau nods toward where Lia’s already disappeared into the cabin, where Cass still is — clearly preferring her company.
How many others saw that little act of rebellion?
Did she really step on me and then run off to hide?
She’s such a brat.
"Boss?"
I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from the cabin to look at him.
"It didn’t hurt," I tell him, pocket the bills, and head back to the stables.
Then I realize it’s not just her stomp that didn’t hurt. For the first time, saying Lucas’s name in a conversation didn’t hurt either.
[2/2]
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