in his VHS collection, you’ll find it there, too. We watched it at least once a summer. I have no idea why I like it so much, but I do.” And she halfway wished he would invite her to watch the movie with him, even though for reasons of sanity, she would say no.
They were almost to the bunkhouse when Cole stopped walking. “Name your five favorite classic movies of all time.”
“Classic meaning…?”
“Before the year 2000.”
Taylor lifted her chin, squeezed her eyes shut. “Tough one. Uh… Anything with Rodney Dangerfield. Wizard of Oz. The Right Stuff. Goodfellas. The Caine Mutiny. The Thin Man.” She opened her eyes. “Did I pass the test?”
“Not the math portion. That’s six.”
“Eighteen if you count all the Rodneys.”
“Yet you’re in finance. I think I’m starting to see the problem.”
Taylor’s lips twitched despite herself. “Careful, Mr. Bryan.”
He smiled that devastating smile of his—the one she didn’t see very often, and almost wished she wasn’t seeing now. “Couldn’t resist.”
She cocked her chin sideways. “I was good at my job.” It was important to her that he know that.
“I believe you.” He sounded sincere.
“Why?”
“I read about the professional papers you wrote and the industry award.” Taylor gave him a thoughtful look, which he met without one trace of apology. “Long evenings. I also research weed control.”
“Ah.” One corner of her mouth crooked up. “So I shouldn’t read anything into the research?”
“I’m just curious about my tenant.”
“Do you feel as if you’ve learned everything you need to know?”
“Now that I know about your predilection for Rodney Dangerfield movies, I think I’m good.” His hand stroked over the poodle’s back, and Taylor focused on the movement rather than meeting his eyes. A crackling tension was building between them—one that had nothing to do with online searches and comedy movies. It was Cole who broke the tension by reaching out for the poodle. “Thanks for watching out for the calves.”
“Oh, I’ll take on a marauding poodle any time of the day or night.”
“Good to know. Consider yourself on call until Mrs. Clovendale’s sister goes home again.”
* * *
SHE LIKED RODNEY DANGERFIELD.
That spelled trouble.
He’d asked about movies hoping she’d spout off the names of some foreign films, or say she never watched old movies anymore. No such luck. They both liked dogs. They both liked classic movies…and she did have okay taste in that area, although he’d never been a fan of The Wizard of Oz. Those flying monkeys still freaked him out.
They had a few things in common. She wasn’t exactly what he thought she was. So what?
Cole leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and idly stroked the dog, who was now snoring on his lap. A half hour ago, he’d swapped out The Caine Mutiny for Caddyshack, which he watched on mute. He didn’t need sound, because he’d seen it so many times.
And he could probably be sitting here with Taylor right now, enjoying the movie, which could lead to…trouble.
He didn’t see any way around it. If he pursued things with Taylor, then he would be pitting his new livelihood against an awakening interest in a woman whom he didn’t want to be interested in. A woman who, by her own admission, wanted to live in an urban environment. A woman who would complicate his life just when he was starting to get it sorted out. Did he want complications?
No.
But that didn’t keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Taylor was cool and controlled in bed. Business Taylor? Or did she let go, as she did when heaving a T-post through the air? Farm Taylor.
Maybe a mixture of the two? Maybe she started out businesslike and then slowly lost control.
Or maybe she took control.
That would be good.
He sucked in a sharp breath. He really needed to get laid.
Or better yet, he needed to get a grip. She was hot. He was horny. But he wasn’t sixteen. He could deal.
He needed to distance himself, get things back under control.
Yeah. While working shoulder to shoulder. No problem there. He reached for the remote, turning the sound back on in time to hear a gopher laugh like a dolphin.
The reason he’d searched online for her the second time, three nights ago, was because he was looking for reasons to squelch his burgeoning interest in her. The reason he’d confessed was because he hoped that she’d accuse him of stalking or something. She hadn’t. Probably because she’d researched him pretty carefully herself.
So what now?
Distance.
The next day, after Chucky had been returned to his owner, who proclaimed him to be a very naughty boy, Cole left the tractor parked and he and Taylor went to work sorting wood and scrap metal. In silence for the most part. By noon, they’d made some serious inroads into the junk behind the barn. Some Cole planned to sell for scrap, sinking the money back into Karl’s place. Most of it went to the dump, with Taylor driving the ton truck, since his knee still wasn’t clutch friendly. It was getting better, though.
His wrist was another story, but he had to use the hand to work. When the doctor had told him not to do anything to jar it for at least a week, he’d nodded as if he intended to follow orders. He had his own way of dealing with injuries. If it hurt, he stopped doing it. If it didn’t, or hurt only a little, he carried on.
He glanced over at Taylor as she turned onto the road leading to the landfill. Today’s load was wood, so they took the fork to the left after entering the facility. She expertly backed up to the oversize receptacle, then beat Cole around the truck to the tailgate, which she opened by hitting it in just the right place with the heel of her hand to pop the latch.
She was better at this farm stuff than she wanted to be. Maybe it was her natural-born efficiency. Maybe she couldn’t help wanting to be the best at whatever she did.
Again, sex came to mind, and again, he shoved the thought aside.
Taylor started tossing wood out of the truck with a vengeance, and Cole stepped forward to help.
“Do any of these have names?” he asked as a split plank sailed past him.
She hurled another broken plank through the air. “I could go through the mean girls in high school.”
Cole pulled a splintered piece of lodge pole free. “Where did you fit in the social hierarchy?”
Taylor stopped and brushed the back of her glove over her forehead. “Are you asking if I was a mean girl?”
“Were you?”
She straightened and drilled him with a hard look that made him feel slightly ashamed, even if he had good reason to ask. He was attempting to distance himself—or better yet, to have her distance herself from him. “I wasn’t mean. I was confident. How about you?”
“Wildly popular.” Right. Cowboy geeks were never wildly popular. He tossed a piece of wood underhanded.
Her gaze never wavered. “I’ll bet you were. And that was an asshole question you asked me.”
Cole didn’t argue with her. It had been. “Just trying to get a handle.”
“By asking if I was