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“I don’t. My hands will take care of your pets, and the real problem was that I didn’t want a hamster. I’m not the small pets type and you know it.”
No, he was the tycoon type, with a strong attachment to the land.
“I feel responsible for you being evicted and I am doing my best for you now.”
She didn’t need that reminder of his guilt. She’d much rather think he was helping her because they were friends. She really wished he didn’t want to get rid of her. “They’ll miss me.”
“You can visit, Zoe. You’re not going to be living in another state. The Patterson place is only about ten minutes away. Besides, I’ll help you find a place and you won’t be separated all that long.”
Zoe dug in her heels. “No.”
Grant leaned over and petted Maurice. “Be reasonable, Zoe.”
“No.”
He straightened, and his conciliatory smile was gone. “You’re an unmarried grade school teacher. Neither your principal nor the school board are going to think highly of you living with a man.”
Grant had a point and he knew it. She did too, which was why she hadn’t argued too fiercely with him the night before. “It isn’t going to be that long. I’ll explain to my principal about getting evicted. He’ll understand.”
Grant shook his head. “He might, but other people won’t. Do you want everyone in town talking about you?”
Zoe laughed, but it was hollow. The specter of gossip was all too real. “I don’t care what anyone who doesn’t know me well enough to know better thinks,” she said, with more rebellion than truth.
“What about your students’ parents?”
Why was he pushing so hard? “What about them?”
“Don’t play dense, Zoe. You don’t want your children’s parents to think you’re living with some man.”
“You aren’t some man. You’re my best friend,” she muttered.
He smiled. “Yeah. And because I’m your best friend, I’m not going to let you ruin your life, niña. What do you say? Should I call Frank back? The sooner you get moved to his place the better.”
Zoe could not stifle the twinge of pain that Grant’s eagerness to get rid of her caused. It reminded her too much of her dad’s attitude when he’d moved her mom to Arizona. “Will you ask him if I can bring Princess and Alexander?”
Grant smiled, obviously relieved. “Sure.”
“Great. You’d better do it right away. You wouldn’t want me to have to stick around any longer than absolutely necessary.” She could not help the bitterness in her voice.
Turning on her heel, she headed out of the barn. Grant couldn’t have made himself clearer if he had shouted through a megaphone. He did not want her around. She should have expected it. She’d worn out her welcome with her dad before she’d ever been born just by being a girl.
Grant snagged her coat and stopped her mid-step. “Hold it.”
She refused to turn around.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
Zoe snorted in disbelief. Right.
“Okay, maybe I am. But it isn’t because I don’t want you around. Come on, querida. You know it’s for the best; you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
She heard his words. In one part of her mind they made sense, but they did nothing to dislodge the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so emotional. Perhaps the words hurt so much because they were almost identical to the ones her dad had spoken when he’d told her he was selling the family ranch rather than let her oversee it.
Heck, Grant probably had some convoluted reason why his actions on The Night had been best for her too. She’d hurt then and she hurt now.
She shook her arm loose from his grip and headed up to the house. Her happy reserves were all used up and she was in no mood to discuss why it was better for her for Grant to kick her out too.
CHAPTER THREE
GRANT tapped his pen against the desktop. He’d been working the figures on their most recent Japanese export deal, but he couldn’t concentrate. The image of Zoe’s hurt expression when he’d convinced her to leave her animals on his ranch and move into the Pattersons’ was burned into his brain.
It didn’t help that she’d been avoiding him ever since. She’d been by to care for her animals twice yesterday. Both times she had made excuses not to stick around and talk. Not that he had time for it, but it bothered him that she didn’t.
Which made him what? Contrary, if nothing else. He should be grateful she was avoiding him with the way his hormones had been behaving around her lately, but he wasn’t.
He missed her.
She could be so damn stubborn sometimes. Like when her dad had sold the ranch. It had been the only move that made sense.
The Jensens had had Zoe late in life, when her dad had been in his early sixties already. He’d wanted to retire. His only son had died a year before Zoe had been born. With only a vegetarian daughter who would no more sell the cattle for beef than cut off her own right arm, he hadn’t had anyone to leave in charge of the ranch—so he’d decided to sell.
He’d been doing Zoe a favor, and Grant still wasn’t sure what she had been so upset about. Certain times of year, like during the stock sale, she’d been miserable living on the ranch. He’d tried to talk to her about it once, but she’d changed the subject. He hadn’t pursued it, not wanting her to realize he’d been the one to encourage her dad to sell.
They argued about enough lately.
Mrs. Patterson needed to vacuum under the guest room bed. Zoe sneezed for what seemed like the hundredth time while she pleaded with her cat to come out. “Alexander, you can’t stay under the bed while I’m at school. The litter box is in the bathroom, with Princess.”
Zoe was afraid that was the problem. She had left the cats in the bathroom with the litter box the last two days while she went to school. Alexander had not liked the confinement. Smart enough to realize that today would require more of the same, he had run under the bed and wasn’t coming out.
Zoe had already tried her most coaxing voice and offering kitty treats, but Alexander would have none of it. Darn it. She was going to be late for school if she didn’t hurry.
“If you don’t come out from under there, I’m giving Princess your play mouse.”
Who said cats couldn’t understand plain English? Alexander dashed from under the bed and made a beeline for the bedroom door. Zoe would have lost him if two male hands had not shot out to catch the desperate feline. Zoe saw fancy tooled Spanish cowboy boots from her vantage point under the bed. Grant.
She scooted out and lifted her gaze to him. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt under his coat. So today he was working the ranch with his hands. It surprised her he still did it. He was a man of contradictions. A smart business tycoon who could ride herd on a horse or fly a helicopter to do it equally as well.
And he looked equally yummy in both business and ranch attire, which was not a comforting thought in their current relationship.
Jumping to her feet, she dusted her hands off. “What are you doing here?”
“Bad morning?”
“Not if you discount that I woke up late, had to skip breakfast and my cat hid under the bed. Now, even without breakfast, most of my students are going to arrive before I do.”
“I’m glad I came over, then.”
“Why did you?” She smiled so he’d know she wasn’t being snippy.
Her annoyance with him had worn out sometime after dinner last night. It wasn’t his fault she was feeling so vulnerable since her dad had sold the ranch. It had been a final slap in the face. The ultimate confirmation that Zoe wasn’t the son he’d wanted and hadn’t made much of a daughter either.
“The roads are bad.” He smiled that killer smile that had been doing strange things to her insides since she was sixteen. “I’m going to drive you to work.”
She sighed with exasperation. “Grant, you may not realize this, but there are women all over the county who are driving themselves to work today. Some are driving busloads of children to school and even more are driving their own.”
He shrugged. “Better get a move on. You’re already late.”
“You aren’t going to listen to me about this, are you?”
“No.”
“I could refuse to ride with you.”
“I’d just follow you all the way into town. Why deny yourself my scintillating company?”
Why indeed? It was pretty sweet he wanted to drive her himself, considering that even if he was concerned he could have asked one of his hands to do the chore. “Fine. Put Alexander in the bathroom. Check their food and water too, please. I’m going to get myself something to eat on the way, since you’ll be driving.” Grant was not the only one who could give orders.
He tipped his Stetson. “Yes, ma’am.”
The fake drawl shivered through her, doing things to her heart and her desire. She forced a casual smile and squeezed past him, her breath quickening as her breasts brushed against his arm. She rushed into the relative safety of the kitchen.
When they were in the truck, she started to peel the banana she’d grabbed along with a yogurt for her breakfast. “How are my pets?”
“You know they are fine. You just saw them yesterday afternoon. Snoopy is sleeping out in the barn, though. He prefers it.”
Zoe felt a pang in her heart. Snoopy didn’t belong being cooped up in an apartment. He was a ranch dog. Grant had offered the big German Shepherd a home when Zoe had moved from her parents’ ranch, but she’d refused. Maybe selfishly. But Snoopy had been her dog since he was a pup and she couldn’t let him go.
Considering the results of her calls on apartments the day before, she might not have any choice. Sunshine Springs wasn’t a big town, which was why the rich and famous seemed to like it so much as a getaway destination. It helped that it was close to the ski slopes on Mt. Bachelor as well. But rental space for year-round residents was limited, and the rates could be astronomical.
No one she’d spoken to, no matter what kind of rent they charged, had been willing to rent to someone with a large dog like her German Shepherd.
Grant frowned. “Your bird is one of the loudest, orneriest parrots I’ve ever seen.”
“You get used to his singing after a while.”
He slid her a disbelieving glance before focusing on the snow-covered road. “Singing? The bird squawks loud enough to wake the cows in the pasture.”
“I’ll have you know that my parrot is a highly intelligent bird. He even says my name.”
“Zoe, that parrot does not talk.”
“Sure he does. You just have to understand his dialect.”
Grant snorted.
“What about Bud?”
“He rolls all over the house in his exercise ball. I think he likes the living room best. I’m really not into small pets, but I let him do the ball thing a couple of hours each night.”
Zoe smiled. “Thank you. Just think of it as training for when you have kids and they have small pets.”
“I’m not getting married anytime soon. Ergo…no kids.”
A sudden image of a little boy with Grant’s dark coloring swam into her mind, making her long for things she could never have with him. “Do you have to drive so slow? I’m already late for school.”
“It’s a good thing I stopped by this morning to drive you. You’d probably have ended up in a ditch, driving too fast.”
Zoe did not appreciate his comment. “Listen, Grant, I drive myself to work every other day of the year and I do not end up in ditches.”
“So, your guardian angels work overtime? I knew that the first day I met you.”
“Then I guess I don’t need you doing it too, do I?”
“Maybe you don’t, but you’re stuck with me.” His set jaw let her know that he found her flippant answer annoying.
It amazed her how quickly small disagreements escalated into full-blown arguments with him lately. This time she was going to remain calm. She gave him a conciliatory smile. “I’ve noticed.”
He didn’t return her smile. In fact, his frown grew more intense. “I promised your parents I’d watch out for you when they moved and I will.”
Just like that, her resolution to stay calm went up in smoke. “Don’t let a promise to my parents stop you from finding someone else to tyrannize. They gave up on me a long time ago.”
He swore.
The rest of the drive to town was mile after mile of charged silence.
She unbuckled the minute Grant pulled up in front of Sunshine Springs Elementary School. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she unlatched her door and hopped out. “You don’t need to bother picking me up. I’ll catch a ride with someone else.”
His jaw could have been hewn from canyon rock. “I’ll be here at three-fifteen.”
“Fine.” She forced herself not to slam the truck door.
Grant waited until she was safely on the sidewalk before backing up. He exited the parking lot at a much faster speed than he had driven into town.
Zoe swallowed her frustration and headed into the building. The last thing she needed to deal with a roomful of five-year-olds was a bad attitude.
When he pulled up in front of the school that afternoon, Grant half expected Zoe to be gone. She wasn’t. She stood talking to a couple of other teachers in some flowy cotton thing that flirted in the wind, with her legs encased in tight leggings. Didn’t she know any better than to wear stuff like that in this weather? And where was her coat? At least she was wearing a turtleneck under the flowy thing.
Wasn’t that the tattoo man from the other evening? If she thought Grant would let Mr. Leather drive her home, she was in for a shock. No way was she going home on a Harley in these conditions.
Zoe looked up and met his eyes. Grant breathed a sigh of relief when she said goodbye to her friends and headed toward his truck. At least that was one battle they did not have to get into. Not like this morning. He still couldn’t figure out what had offended her so much. Did it really bother her that he had wanted to drive her to school?
A small, still voice chided Grant. It hadn’t been Zoe’s response that had escalated their argument. It had been his own. He was edgy and he knew why. Her dad had called him the previous evening, after she had taken care of her animals and left. He and Mrs. Jensen weren’t coming for Christmas.
They had been invited last minute to join a group of retirees on a cruise for the holidays. Heaven knew why they accepted, but they had. Zoe would be devastated. He had given the number for the Patterson place to Mr. Jensen, but the older man had asked Grant to relay the news—said they were too busy packing to make another phone call, which was a load of manure. The man just didn’t want to have to deal with his daughter when he told her they weren’t coming back for the holidays. He’d probably dealt with enough grief from his wife, but Mrs. Jensen was an old-fashioned woman. She might argue with her husband, but she wouldn’t outright say no to him.
Grant could have refused to tell Zoe, but that would not have improved the situation. Mr. Jensen did not know how to talk to his daughter. He would hurt her with his pragmatic attitude. He might even go on about Zoe’s pets and the new mess she’d gotten herself into because of them, as he had to Grant on the phone the previous evening.
Much better for Zoe if Grant were to break the news. First he would have to get her speaking to him again, though. He was going to have to apologize. The thought did not lighten his mood.
