Page 50

CHAPTER 15
elena
Hunt paced the small space of my office in the stables, his boots scuffing against the wood floor, arms crossed so tight across his chest I was surprised he hadn’t cracked a rib.
“You wanna tell me why the hell you stood there and letthatwoman talk to you like that?” he demanded.
I pressed back against my desk, arms braced at my sides, letting him get it out of his system. Hunt didn’t yell—not really—but his voice had that low, cutting edge to it that meant he was just about done with everyone’s bullshit, including mine.
“It’s done,” I said simply.
“Like hell it is.” He turned to Amos. “You see that? She didn’t even blink. You’d think she was a damn fence post the way she took it.”
Amos sat on my chair behind the desk. He set his booted feet up on the table. “I noticed, and I didn’t like it either.”
Iarched an eyebrow. “You two done?”
“Not even close,” Hunt shot back.
Amos looked around, taking in the office—the filing cabinets shoved into a corner, the shelves lined with horse records, the saddle I hadn’t finished cleaning resting on a stand. His eyes settled on me.
“This isn’t the ranch house.”
I shrugged. “Never said it was.”
“You used to work in Nash’s office,” Amos pointed out.
“And, if you noticed, that office has a new occupant.” I parked my ass on the table and pushed Amos’s boots off.
Hunt gave a bitter little laugh. “She didn’t have a choice, Amos. Bossman tried to fire her.”
Amos didn’t react right away. He just studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “I know.”
That got both of our attention.
Hunt narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
Amos rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Knew Nash a long time. Knew how things were. You think I didn’t see this coming?” He shook his head. “Kid was angry. Still is. But he didn’t make her leave, did he?”
Hunt grunted. “I told him no one would buy his horses if she left…may also have told him I’d leave if she did.”
I didn’t like the way they were both talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there.
“If you two are done dissecting my life, I’ve got work to do.”
Neither of them looked convinced.
“Oh, you’ll like this next part,” Hunt said, feigning false casualness. “Guess who won’t be bothering you anymore?”
The crazy woman wearing heels and a suit on a ranch?
I frowned. “Who?”
He smirked. “Sawyer.”
I didn’t work with that punk. I let Hunt manage him. “Huh?”
“He’s gone.”