Page 9 of The Billionaire Who Hated Me (Until He Loved Me)

“No, ma’am.”I walk past her and pull open the passenger door, suddenly aware of how good she smells.“Here you go.”

She blinks in surprise.“Well, thank you.”

“What?You assumed a cowboy like me wouldn’t know how to open a door for a lady?”

She shakes her head in annoyance and reaches for the grab handle.She tries to bend her knee and get a foot on the threshold, but that skirt is way too tight to allow that kind of movement.She attempts it again, and I got to give her credit for that.I watch her expression change as she understands how the laws of physics leave her only one option: if she wants to bend her knee, she’ll have to yank her skirt up to her bikini line.

“Shit,” she hisses.

As much as I would enjoy a glimpse at those upper thighs, I decide to take matters into my own hands.Literally.I grab her around the waist and lift her straight off the ground, feeling her wriggle in protest and slap at my hands.

“Put me down!”

“You got it.”I let her plop down in the bucket seat.I watch as she tugs at her skirt and pulls her long, long legs inside.“Buckle up,” I say, then shut the door.

I walk around the back of the Jeep, knowing I’ve made a mistake.She feels too damn good in my hands.She smells too damn good.She’s too damn beautiful.I sure as hell hope this will be a quick errand.

I’m having more fun than I should playing the country cowpoke to her big-city business lady.Especially since I have no idea why she’s here.

CHAPTER 7

Cal

“You good?”I look over and see that she’s sitting with her back straight and her chin high as she stares straight ahead.

“Fabulous.You?”

I chuckle softly as I pull up to the stop sign.“I am doing mighty fine, ma’am, thank you.Where are we headed?”

She has a glamorous profile, with striking bone structure, though it’s obvious she’s angry with me.

Maybe she has a right to be.

She pulls her phone from her bag and swipes up and down a few times.“I’d like to go into the town of Sweetbriar first, please.I want to get settled before I head to my meeting.Hopefully, I’ll have a car by then.”

“So, you have an appointment out of town?”

She turns her head to look out the passenger side window and doesn’t answer.

This is one tightly wound woman.

We’re silent most of the fifteen-minute drive to town.I figure I’ve had enough fun for one day and decide to cut her some slack.She's clearly out of her element, and things haven’t gone to plan for her on this trip.She texts back and forth with someone, but only when the signal is strong enough.Eventually, she gets frustrated and throws her phone into her bag.

I notice that she’s suddenly gazing out the window in earnest.“Oh,” she says, her voice brighter than I’ve heard it up till now.“Wow.It’s really pretty around here.”

“It is.”

I'm the first to admit that the MacLaines picked a spectacular part of the country to settle in 1865, and I'm proud our family has managed to hang on to it ever since.That’s saying something too, since Dad’s come close to losing it on several occasions since Mom died.If it weren’t for my brilliant brothers and the inventions that led to StellaR Tech, the ranch would be in foreclosure, no question about it.

She looks at me, puzzled.“It's spectacular, really.I mean, I don't know exactly what I expected, but I thought it was almost all desert here.”

“There's plenty of that,” I tell her, taking a left onto the state highway that leads to town.“But in addition to the high desert, we’ve got a couple different rivers and several lakes.We've got rocky mountains, meadows and grasslands, and high-elevation alpine forest.It’s as diverse as it is beautiful.”

“Hmm,” she says.

When I pull onto Main Street, I wonder what the town looks like to her, someone who’s never been here before.The word “town” may be a misnomer.Sweetbriar was never much to look at, even in its Gold Rush prime, and these days it’s a skeleton of its former self.There's a five and dime, a hardware store, a car repair shop, two diners, a few bars, and several churches.That’s about it.

“Anywhere in particular?”I ask.