Who the hell is this guy and who does he think he is?

I stare him down, hating everything about him. He’s good-looking to a fault. His ice-blue eyes are framed by lashes so dark he looks like he’s wearing eyeliner. His skin seems like it’s fresh shaven, but there’s still a hint of a shadow. His hair is short, dark, and neat.

He’s in a suit that’s perfectly tailored, and under it he wears a burgundy button down shirt and a narrow black tie.

If I believed in the devil, I’d be very certain this man was him.

Still, the look on his face when I told him no left me with a sense of satisfaction. I have a feeling he doesn’t hear that very often. Never mind that he’s offering me enough money to retire and never have to worry about working another bone-crushingly painful day again in my life.

But now he’s still standing here, staring at me like he’s sizing me up.

I cross my arms as my body reacts to him. I swear it’s because he’s the only guy I’ve seen in the flesh in a long time. My nipples bud up tight under the thin – though restrictive – layer of my bra. His eyes follow the motion of my arms and trace the curve of my breasts and I sense he’s struggling with the same sensations I am.

It’s odd, seeing his responses mirroring my own.

Especially since everything about him bothers me. He reminds me of Charlie. Good old Charlie tried to sweet talk me out of my virginity senior year. But Charlie didn’t get in my pants that night – or any other night, for that matter – and this man, whoever he is, isn’t going to sweet talk me out of my pants or my ranch.

Then again, Charlie didn’t make me feel all warm like this. Charlie didn’t cause goose bumps to march down my arms. Charlie couldn’t make me shiver with one intense, serious glance.

No, that honor goes to the man still standing silent before me.

Suddenly, he thrusts his hand toward me, as if in a show of friendliness. “Mr. Knight. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, that thousand kilowatt smile makes me wonder who got rich off his dental care and whiting regimen. He could be a poster child of any respectable dental office, which only adds to my distrust of him.

“You should have led with that,” I tell him, and his eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch. “I have work to do.” I want to push past him but I’m scared to touch him. If his mere proximity is having this kind of reaction on me, what would contact do?

And the few seconds it’ll take me to slip into my boots is a few extra seconds too long to be close enough to touch him.

I wonder, though, why he’s looking at me like he’s starving. Surely a guy like this has women begging him to take them to bed. Why would he look at me – someone who clearly shows zero interest – like he’s impossibly desperate?

“Do I need to call the police, Mr. Knight?” I ask, trying to prod him off my porch. I have work to do. And while the thought of how much money he offered is stuck in the front of my mind, I still don’t want to really think about it.

I don’t like the man, and I’m sure as hell not going to give him my ranch so he can make apartment buildings or whatever he’s thinking.

Still… that much money… I could retire. I could move into the city. Buy a house, open a bank account and put property taxes into it so I never have to worry about it again. I could live a good life and never work again.

I could meet someone. Get married. Start a family and have a life.

“Of course not, Miss…?” he pushes.

“You know my name, Mr. Knight.” I have no time for his mind games. He wants power? Well, he can screw himself. “Please leave.” My tone has slipped somewhere between cold fury and a not so subtle warning.

He seems to finally get the hint. “Have a good day, Miss Astor,” he says before turning to leave. He halts on the ground and turns to face me once more, and my heart sinks to my toes.

“It’s a generous offer,” he says, as if this is the right time to offer a feeble rebuttal to my refusal.

I nod, conceding. “It would be, if I were interested in selling,” I say, wanting him to know that I am still not interested and not to take my words in that context. “But I am not. Good day.” I skip down the two steps and step into my boots. With them on my feet, I head toward the barn as he heads toward his truck.

He stops again, halfway to his shiny truck that seems so out of place here. “Thank you for your time,” he says, and I feel like he’s stalling.

And it feels less like a thank you and more like a fuck you.

So I give him a smile and wave that’s way more cheerful than I feel.

But I don’t breathe easily until I hear the engine roar to life and hear him turning around. I expected him to be petty, to spray rocks and dirt everywhere and spin out his tires, but he’s careful. Though I’m not surprised. I’m certain I haven’t seen the last of the smooth talking, pretty boy Mr. Knight.

With a decided air of unease, I head toward the barn. As I open the double doors, I begin to speak to all the heads inquisitively staring at me over stalls. “You wouldn’t believe where I was,” I say, looking toward Jenny’s stall.

Unable to see her, I rush over, pulling my cell phone from my pocket. Throwing open the stall door, I dial Kyle’s office.

Jenny, on her side, her belly tightening every few moments, looks at me and tosses her head, looking a bit weak.

“Hey, it’s Emma Astor,” I say to the secretary. “I’ve got a mare in labor, would Kyle be able to head over?”

“I’ll see if he can. Good luck, Em.” The girl hangs up and I put my phone in my pocket. Grabbing the foaling gloves, I pull them on and get behind her. With a quick check that’s all habit, I make sure the foal isn’t breech and sigh in relief.

Patting her hindquarters, I talk to her in a calm tone of voice. “Soon you’ll feel several hundred pounds lighter,” I joke. Her ears swivel, and I see her belly harden and tense, and know there’s not much time before there’ll be a slick, wobbly little foal standing her beside her.

I’ve always loved watching mares throw foals. And I already have plans for this little one. If he’s a colt, he’ll be a new stud. If it’s a mare, she’ll be sold off at a hefty price once she’s weaned and ready to be on her own.

It’s sad to bring them into the world and watch them leave, but that’s the way it is.

Still, I always cross my fingers and hope for colts.

And as I sit back, ready for a new addition, I realize the rough start to the day isn’t going to ruin the beauty of it all.