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“Well, no one has chased me off of it yet,” I reply coolly.

I think I notice one corner of his mouth twitching, but I could be imagining it. “Tends not to happen when you don’t wander where you’re not supposed to.”

“Ass,” I mutter under my breath, trying not to notice the way his abdomen flexes when he leans over the steering wheel. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Feeding the cows,” he says.

My nose scrunches. “They eat that much every day?”

“More or less,” Finlay chuckles. “They’re big puppies, really.”

“Big puppies with massive horns,” I point out.

Lachlan’s mouth does curl then. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the cows now, are you, princess?”

“I’m not afraid,” I grumble. “And stopcallingme that.”

One corner of his mouth hitches up farther. “We’ll see.”

“All right, all right,” Finlay huffs. “Enough with your flirting. There are cows to feed.”

“I wasnotflirting,” I say, just as Lachlan bites out the same sentiment.

Finlay just laughs. “Aye, aye, of course not. Will we see you for supper, Lachlan?”

Lachlan stiffens, eyeing my grandpa warily. I’ve noticed that he appears standoffish with my family—me included—and I can only wonder why he would choose to work here in the first place if he doesn’t care for his employers.

“Can’t,” Lachlan says in a clipped tone. “Appreciate the offer.”

Finlay shakes his head. “One of these days you’ll say yes.”

Lachlan technically says nothing, but in his silence he says plenty. I don’t think he has any plans of cozying up to my grandparents anytime soon.

My eyes wander to his chest without my consent, and I can’t pretend that the sight of glistening sweat sliding over his taut nipples doesn’t make my stomach flutter. Unfortunately, Lachlan doesn’t seem to miss me looking.

“See something you like?”

I scowl. “Not even a little.”

“Mhm.” He smirks infuriatingly, reaching for the ignition to the tractor as he glances toward Finlay. “I’ll have this wrapped up in a bit, then I’ll find Girdie and get her penned.”

“Good lad,” Finlay says with a grin.

Lachlan only nods, a short, clipped gesture before he cranks up the tractor and starts to idle away. I have to will myself not to watch his back muscles as he goes—because there area lotof them—reminding myself once again that wedo not lust after assholes.

It’s admittedly a hard mantra to cling to when the asshole in question looks likethat.

“Still want to see the inside of the barn?”

I blink, my head swiveling to meet Finlay’s eyes, which are glinting with humor, no doubt having caught me ogling the farmhand.

“Is he always so rude to you?”

Finlay waves me off. “Och, he’s just a bit stiff is all. He’ll warm up eventually. He’s been through it, that one.”

I’m dying to ask what he means by that, but I know that doing so will only prove that I’m interested, which I am most certainlynot. So instead, I gesture toward the entrance of the barn.

“Show me inside?”