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The rush of relief she felt over that little bit of near-relenting was disproportionate, she was certain. She felt it all the same. “I thought it might appeal to you. Well, I guess I didn’t think that, but I hoped.”

“This land has been in my family for generations, Ms. Sullivan. That means something to me. This place means something to me.”

“I do understand that.”

“All right. Let’s get to fence fixing.”

She was jarred by the abrupt change of subject. But she was ready.

“Okay. Let’s fix the fence.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE AFTERNOON SUN was high, and it was warm. He knew he was being mean by keeping her out this long without stopping for food. He did have water bottles in the truck, and he had made sure that she was hydrated. He didn’t need her turning into a little ginger raisin on his watch.

He was beginning to get concerned that she might burn. She had brought a hat, but she was just so stinking pale.

He shouldn’t care. And he shouldn’t be transfixed by that near-translucent skin, or her freckles.

Dammit.

“Did you put on some sunblock?” he asked.

“Of course I did,” she said. “I’m a redhead.”

He could see that she was doing her best to not punch him in the face, and that it was a battle she had come close to losing on a few occasions.

The more of an ass he was, the more she tried to be calm, and that just seemed to make him want to push her harder.

“I’m not sure what I’m dealing with here,” he said. “I felt like I needed to make sure. I don’t want you broiling on my watch.”

Her eyes glittered like green beetles. “I don’t even need a college degree to know that I need to wear sunblock if I’m going to so much as even smell a ray of sunshine.”

“Well, at least you have some kind of practical knowledge.”

She looked up at him, staring hard. Her eyes were clear and green, and the freckles across her nose were arrayed in a scattershot pattern.

She was pissed.

And she really was very cute. Even in the work boots.

The work boots themselves weren’t cute. It was just that she stomped around in them like she was a six-foot-six lumberjack, and there was something about that which he found sort of charming.

Even if he shouldn’t.

As mad as she was at him now, she’d been furious at him this morning. And he wasn’t all that thrilled that he’d been caught in his subterfuge. Nor was he very happy with himself that he’d entrenched in the lie that Quinn was consulting him about anything.

Because now Camilla had a name. And now Quinn knew his weak spot.

Though she had seemed more helpful than conniving on the drive over. They hadn’t talked much while they worked on the fence.

He didn’t know the Sullivans. That was the problem.

The people at Four Corners had a decent reputation, but the Pyrite Falls folks who weren’t part of the outfit definitely viewed them with a mix of suspicion and respect. And, of course, they made fun of them. The Four Corners ranchers were a big-ass collective. They had a lot of power in the area, and as one of the few ranchers who wasn’t part of that massive operation in this area, he felt a little uneasy about joining up with them in any way. Because if things went awry, they had each other, and what did he have?

He was paranoid. He had every right to be.

If a man didn’t learn from his mistakes, then he was no kind of man.