CHAPTER 5
Drake
The bourbon swirled with my coffee as I screwed the flask tight. I was still pissed that Hank hired me a fucking babysitter. I may have gotten my pick, but it was like picking the best from the worst. That was what this woman was. A glorified fucking babysitter to help get me from Point A to Point B. I didn’t need shit like that. I was a grown ass man.
Hank could call this woman whatever the hell he wanted, but she was nothing but a babysitter, and I was going to make damn sure she’d want to quite. No matter how pretty she was, no woman was running my life. No one could run my life better than I saw fit. I’d only allowed one woman to have any level of control over me and she was gone. I’d been the man of this damn house for years, taking care of my sister and running the ranch when I wasn’t on tour. No one knew my fucking life, or the shit I went through just to keep the people I cared about afloat. Fucking tabloids could paint me however they wanted to.
But if they walked a half a mile in my fucking boots, they’d be dead in the water.
As I sat there, downing my coffee and bourbon, I hoped she wouldn’t show. I hoped she couldn’t find the place or got a fucking flat tire and was late. If she was late for her first day of work, I could tell Hank, and she’d be fired. He didn’t tolerate that bullshit.
I knew. He’d lectured me over it a million times.
I sighed as I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I brought out my flask, bypassing the coffee as I took another swig. The clock on the microwave read five-fifty-eight as a door slammed shut.
Fuck. She was one of those annoying people who was always early.
Pulling my ball cap low over my head, I pushed up from the kitchen table. The last thing I needed was some prim and proper woman clopping her heels through my damn house. Elsie was still sleeping, and Tammy hadn’t gotten up to fix breakfast yet. I was still exhausted from the meltdown Elsie had last night over the thunderstorm that had rolled through. Though I’d set her up in her own apartment close by to help her exercise her independence, she refused to stay there during the storm, and she and Tammy had both ended up staying the night.
Making my way out toward the porch, I shut the door behind me. I saw the girl get out of a truck, stepping onto the pavement. She was dressed in a pair of boots, jeans, and a plain t-shirt. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had sunglasses on the top of her head. She looked different than she had yesterday. No heels or a skirt. No makeup or a nice blouse.
It suited her.
Her jeans molded to every single part of her; the light curve of her hips, the slenderness of her legs. Her boots were scuffed, worn down and broken in from years of wear and tear. She turned around and shut the door of her rusty truck, her tiny little ass perfectly rounded.
Goddammit! Stop checking her out.
Her eyes connected with mine as she grabbed her bag from the back of the truck. She was comfortable in her own skin. Maybe this woman wasn’t afraid to get dirty. Maybe she wasn’t the prim and proper little girl I had seen yesterday.
I waited for her to come to me. I knew that little trick she’d pulled in front of Hank yesterday. Holding out her hand until I shook it. She played a good game in front of him, but she was no match for me. I was the one running the show here. This was my life. My home. My ranch. My schedule. My career.
She didn’t own it, and neither did Hank.
Soon enough, she stood in front of me. Staring up at me with her big doe eyes as wisps of her honey blond hair fluttered around her cheeks. She was as pretty as she was yesterday, and that was dangerous. A woman who could be pretty even when she wasn’t trying, was almost any man's downfall.
“I’m already late gettin’ into the field,” I said. “The cattle need milkin’, and the chickens need to be fed. Fertilizer needs to be laid, and some of the empty fields need to be tilled again. The horses have been runnin’ all night, so they need to come in for breakfast. I’ve got a couple of foals that’ll need to be groomed, and their hooves’ll need to be picked ou—”
“Mr. Blackthorn, I’m your personal assistant, not your ranch hand. I’ll be helping you with your schedule and various other things that have been brought to my attention.”
Her voice was steady and girded as I leaned against the doorframe. I slowly slid a grin across my face, deadly and conniving. I watched my reflection in her eyes as she took a small step back, bracing herself as I loomed over her. She was small, which meant she was explosive. But even a firecracker made a loud boom before it was rendered useless.
Stone called it my ‘get ‘im smile.’ It showed people who was in charge. I leaned in real close to her ear. I felt her turn her head slightly, so her eyes never left my face.
“You work for me now,” I said. “And when I’m not on tour, I’m a rancher.”
I stood back up as her eyes followed me, big and bright as I turned on my heels. I could feel her eyes on my back as I opened the door, walking back into the house.
Then I turned my lips over my shoulder as I grabbed the flask from my pocket.
“You might wanna hurry up. We’re burnin’ daylight.”