I think it might smell stronger because you’re pregnant. But don’t throw up in this stall, I just finished cleaning it.”
“I’m way past the morning-sickness stage. Thank God,” she mumbled while trying to hold her breath.
A gentleman would have offered to walk away from the manure-filled wheelbarrow so she could breathe again, but he wasn’t feeling very gentlemanly. Maybe she would hate the smell enough and wait for him in the stable office until he could find someone to drive her back to the lodge.
“What can I do for you, Emma?” He purposely walked close to her as he passed so she could get a good whiff of him, knowing he wasn’t playing very fair. “How did you get out here, anyway?”
“Your brother gave me a ride.”
“Wes is here?” Dylan tugged off his gloves and yanked his phone out of his pocket. “That son of a— He should be the one doing this, not me. Did he come in with you?”
Emma shook her head. “No. He’s plowing the ranch roads. I don’t think he plans on working in the stables right now.”
At least his brother had decided to work after all. “I love how I own the ranch and I’m the one doing the grunt work. So, I guess now you’re stuck out here with me. I don’t have time to drive you back and I certainly don’t have time to entertain you.”
“I’m not asking you to entertain me.”
“Why are you out here, Emma?”
“Kindly lose the attitude. I realize I’m not your favorite person. All I’m asking for is a couple hours of your time to hear my proposal.”
“You have a lot of nerve, sweetheart.” He couldn’t believe her attitude. “I know all about your plans for the ranch.”
“No, Dylan, you don’t. You think you do, but you don’t. How do I know? Because I never pitched them to you, and Jax told me you didn’t want to listen to him. You might feel differently if we talked about it.”
“As you can already see, I don’t have a couple hours to spare.” Dylan tossed his shovel on top of the wheelbarrow and began pushing it down the stable corridor. “Honestly, I’m finding your insistence insulting.”
“I—I never meant to offend you.” Emma backed away from him and straight into one of the open stall doors.
“Be careful.” He sighed. “Listen, I know you’re just doing your job. I apologize for my attitude. You being here is bringing up some memories I would rather have kept in the past. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to talk about them.”
“Is this about your ex-wife?”
Dylan abruptly released the handles of the wheelbarrow, almost causing it to tip over. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“Jax told me your wife and kids left because you moved them out here and that’s a big reason why you didn’t want to sell the ranch.”
“You’re half-right. My wife and her kids. And there’s more to my not wanting to sell than that. Here I thought my uncle wasn’t much of a gossip. Turns out I was wrong.”
“Jax cared for you very much. Part of his reason for selling was so you could have your freedom again.”
Dylan tugged off his gloves. “Well, doesn’t that just beat all? This ranch was my freedom. My home. By taking it away from me, he was taking away the last breath I had. Did he really say that to you?”
Emma nodded slowly, closing the distance between them. “He thought if you had a fresh start on your own ranch without the debt and problems of this place hanging over your head that you’d be able to move on.”
Dylan recoiled at her words. “Oh, you’re good.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your job is to convince me to sell and you’re using the information my uncle told you against me.” He had known she was a shrewd businesswoman; he hadn’t known she’d take it this far. “I already know my uncle’s final wish was to sell this place. Doesn’t mean I’m going to honor it, and your charms will not convince me otherwise.”
“You want to be mad at me for being here? Go right ahead. You want to be mad that Jax died? Do it. Let it out. Scream, shout, kick something. It’s okay to be mad at the past. But please don’t insult me in the process.”
Emma stormed out of the stables, leaving him alone with nothing but a pile of manure.
* * *
“THE NERVE OF that man,” Emma grumbled to herself as she traipsed down the freshly-plowed road toward the lodge. She could just about make out the roof of the building from where she stood. At least there was a lull in the storm and it had stopped snowing. While the exercise felt good, her feet were beginning to ache and her fingers were cold. She reached inside her pocket for her phone. Maybe if she called the lodge, somebody could come get her.
She pulled off a glove with her teeth and began to scroll through her contacts when she heard an engine coming up behind her. She stepped off the road and into a pile of cold, wet snow that instantly seeped down into her duck boot moccasins. After she’d let out a few choice curse words, the snowmobile stopped in front of her and cut the engine.
Dylan.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Emma stomped onto the path in a vain attempt to shake the snow from her shoes. She only succeeded in shaking it farther down toward her toes.
“I don’t want to talk to you either, but I’m not going to allow you to freeze out here. You were crazy to think you could walk back to the lodge in this weather.”
Emma wanted to ignore him, but she was too cold and no amount of pride was worth freezing over. “I was just calling the lodge to have someone come and get me.”
“I’m your somebody. Hop on.”
“Hop on where?” While the snowmobile was a decent size, there was no way her and her belly would fit behind him. At least not without her holding on to him for dear life.
Dylan scooted forward to make more room. “Get on. I’ll go slow, I promise.”
Emma raked her hands down her face. She had never been snowmobiling in her life and she didn’t think her doctor back home in Chicago would approve of this little outdoor activity. She climbed on behind him and gripped his hips.
“Wrap your arms around me,” Dylan said over his shoulder.
“I can’t. My stomach is in the way,” Emma muttered.
She didn’t hear or see Dylan laughing, but she felt his body reverberating against hers. She smacked his arm. “It’s not funny. You try being pregnant.”
“I’m sorry.” He continued to laugh. “Can you hold on to my shoulders?”
Emma slid her hands up his back, relishing the solid muscle beneath her palms. “I can handle that.”
“Apparently.” Dylan arched against her as she squeezed his shoulders.
“You stink.” His odor was probably her only saving grace. If he had smelled musky and manly, she might not have been able to control herself. And she wouldn’t have been able to blame it on her pregnancy hormones.
By the time they reached the lodge, she needed another change of clothes. She didn’t want to sit down to dinner smelling like... Dylan. She wanted to make a graceful escape from the back of the snowmobile—unfortunately getting on was easier than getting off. The story of her pregnancy.
After Dylan’s assistance, she managed to break free of him. “Thank you for the ride.” She headed into the lodge. She may have been grateful for the ride, but she was still mad at him.
“Emma, wait.”
She didn’t bother to stop.