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“Are you asking me for a favor? That’s a surprise.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s surprising is I thought maybe you might not be a dick for once.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” I say with a mock-pout. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of ya in days. What could I have done this week to wrong you?”

“Wherehaveyou been?” She crosses her arms and cocks her head, and the way she asks the question…

A grin splits across my face. “Did you miss me, Key? Were you looking for me?”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffs. Her cheeks are still pink, and sheaverts her eyes with a scowl. “But you work here, don’t you? How come I never see you, you know,working?”

“I’m what you might call…part-time help,” I tell her. “I have other dealings to handle than just Rhona’s cows.”

She cocks a brow. “Well, isn’t that mysterious of you.”

“Nothing mysterious about it, princess,” I say sweetly. “Between you and your dear cousin, I reckon I can afford to cut back on my hours a bit, yeah?”

She huffs out a breath. “Are youevergoing to stop calling me that?”

“I will when it stops making you blush,” I counter immediately.

Her mouth gapes and her eyes widen, and her shocked expression fills me with such an intense satisfaction, it feels like a win somehow, and underneath that…Well. I don’t analyze the feeling underneath all that.

“You don’t make meblush,” she practically hisses. “You’re—you’re just—you’re infuriating! That’s what you are.”

“Aye, aye, so I’ve been told.” I tilt my head toward the pitchfork still lodged in the hay. “You want me to get that out for you or not?”

“I…” She looks like she’d rather eat sand than ask for my help, and I find I like watching her squirm. She’s just…very fun to annoy. I consider her irritation partial restitution from the MacKay clan. “If you don’t mind,” she says finally, in a very tight tone.

“Don’t mind at all,” I answer cheerily. “As long as you say please.”

Her flush is immediate, and her mouth opens with what was surely supposed to be a curse or a barb, but then she glances at the pitchfork again, and then back toward the house, and I know she’s considering what might be the lesser of two evils—asking for help fromme, or from one of her estranged family members.

She takes a deep breath, not even looking at me when she mutters, “Please.”

“What was that?” I cup my hand to my ear. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I saidplease,” she grinds out a little louder.

There’s no good reason for me to feel so satisfied by her acquiescence, but watching her pert mouth begrudgingly offer up the word sends a tiny thrill swooping through my stomach.

“Ah, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I reach around her and grab the handle of the pitchfork with one hand, giving it a swift tug and watching her mouth fall open when it gives way with ease. She stares at it for a good number of seconds when I offer it to her with that same look that says it might be her new worst enemy, finally snatching it away.

“Thank you,” she mumbles before I even have a chance to goad her for it. Pity.

“Just trying to be a good person,” I tell her seriously.

She rolls her eyes, and the action is almost…cute on her.

Cute?

I recoil at my own thoughts.

Definitely notcute.

“I don’t know why it had to be cows,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than anything.