Chapter 6

Since climbing into Jacob Barrington's truck—and it was necessary to actually climb to get in that tank—she'd been silent. She was cross with him for interfering with her plans to leave Barrington Ranch that day. Very cross.

As the trip proceeded in silence, however, her temper ebbed. Desperation began to set in when she realized she'd have to have a change of plans.

"How am I supposed to pull off putting up an advertisement at the Postal Plus with Jacob Barrington breathing over my shoulder?" she thought silently, biting her lip as she sat on the passenger's side of the ... bench ... in his ginormous white pickup truck. "This is so frustrating."

Then she turned her head and looked at the handsome cowboy beside her. He was now wearing his dark brown cowboy hat again with his eyes glued on the road ahead. He didn't look all too happy with this arrangement, either, and that was surprising since he all but foisted his big body into the decision making!

On the other hand, didn't that obnoxious cowboy want her to leave Barrington Ranch from the get-go? Perhaps he'd be willing to help her in that endeavor. They'd both get what they eventually wanted, right?

She decided to feel him out; to see what mood he was in.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know," she said. "All I wanted were my keys back. I feel just fine and I could've driven the Rover to town myself."

"City."

She frowned. "What?"

"Bellville's a city."

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment. "Your father called it a town, too."

"He knows it's a city. You don't."

Okay. So maybe now wasn't the time to enlist his help. His curt tone surprised her and she looked flabbergasted at his hard profile. What was wrong with him?

"So... ," she began, "before I forget again, um, I'd appreciate it if you could return my keys to me." She paused. "Preferably before Doctor Bennett comes by to check in on me? Now would be even better if you have them on you."

He didn't respond. He didn't even look her way. As a matter of fact, he made it pretty clear that he wasn't in a talking mood since they left the ranch! Perhaps he was upset that he had to drive her into town—into the city—and perhaps that was the reason for his brooding silence?

Well, no more excuses! That was just unfair!

She cleared her throat and flipped a hand as she casually shrugged. "I mean, I know how busy you are at the ranch, and I'm quite capable of driving without the threat of another incident. I mean, I have driven out to the ranch yesterday, right? So in light of that, I don't believe there was any need for you to accompany me to t—the city. And there's a working telephone at the house, so you could have just as well called in the reorder for cow food."

"Cattle feed," he corrected as he kept his attention on the road ahead of them.

She frowned curiously as she looked at him.

"Are you all right, Mister Jacob?"

"The name's Jake."

"And I've already told you, I prefer to address you as Mister Jacob—"

"—Yea." He turned his cool gaze on her big curious eyes. "At the house. We ain't at the house, are we?"

She blinked nervous eyes before she couldn't hold his gaze and dropped her eyelashes as she fumbled with a corner of her sweater. "I'd rather not break with form if it's all the same to you."

"It ain't," he said curtly. "It ain't form here in southeast Texas. We ain't as formal as folks in Louisiana, and you ain't in Louisiana anymore."

She arched an eyebrow. "Fine," she said a little testily. "I'll address you less formally when in public, but when at the ranch, I'll hold true to decorum required of paid staff—which is universal." She made a mental note to avoid, whenever and wherever possible, to address him informally. She didn't want to get all too familiar with him.

"And at my place."

She briefly stiffened in her seat. "Well, you don't have to be afraid that will ever happen again," she said a little quieter.

"Never said I was afraid. You're welcome to come by any time you like."

"Yes, I'm certain you wouldn't mind that."

"No. I wouldn't."

"Well, I would," she said. "I'm here for cooking and cleaning, not for entertaining the son of my employer. And I never intend to become just another notch on a philandering man's bedpost, so you'll never have to be afraid—" She paused. "You'll never need to expect a visit from me. Ever."

He arched an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "Philanderin'?"

She cleared her throat again. "Yes. It means—"

"—I know what it means," he said. "Sounds like Elena's been gossipin' again."

"Well, they say where there's smoke, there's fire, and a warned person counts for two, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm more appreciative of Elena's "gossip" than you are." She cleared her throat and looked out her window, feeling the color creep into her cheeks. How on god's green Earth did they get on this difficult subject? "So, again, do you have my keys on you?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Didn't work.

"This Charles must've hurt you somethin' bad."

She stared silently at his profile until he turned his head and looked at her. She felt color rise in her cheeks before she dropped eyelashes and shrugged. "That's inconsequential to the topic at hand—"

"—Yea. Made you so shy that a man's touch is as welcome as an outhouse breeze."

She felt her body go so stiff it gave her physical discomfort. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't understand your Texas-talk—"

"—Oh, you darn well know what I'm sayin', Bella."

She cleared her throat and arched a snooty eyebrow. "About those keys—"

"—Even now," he continued, "even on this wide bench, you're sittin' as far away as you possibly can without fallin' out the door, as afraid as you are to touch me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she defended hotly. "Even if I sat in the center of this-this enormous seat, I still wouldn't touch any part of you."

"That's exactly what I said."

"You know very well I didn't mean I wouldn't touch you—"

"—Would you?"

She looked cross at him despite her bright blush, and saw him smile that arrogant smile of his. "I meant, even if I were to sit right smack in the center of this bench, there would still be a gap of at least half a foot or more between us. So the chances of our bodies touching in any way are next to nil."

"I asked you a question, Bella. Would you touch me?"

"That's an inappropriate question to ask the paid housekeeper and cook, and as the son of my employer, your question borders on sexual harassment so I'll pretend I didn't hear you," she said.

"I didn't mean sexual."

"Mister Jacob!"

"Jake."

"Ohhh ... no." She shook her head, wagging a finger in the air. "When you talk like that, you're Mister Jacob."

He arched an eyebrow. "So you can keep me at a distance?"

"To remind you of clearly defined stations and personal boundaries," she gave back.

"Yea," he said with a handsome smile—however cynical, "to keep your distance. But it ain't gonna work, Bella."

She was so stunned by how his smile changed his face that it took a few seconds more for his words to sink in. He had a spectacular smile with strong white teeth that made creases appear in his cheek and jaw. She could see why even his older brother's ex-fiancée couldn't resist him.

When his words finally sank in, she frowned. "What's not going to work?"

"How 'bout we try somethin'," he suggested without answering.

"And what would that be? Returning my keys to me without me having to repeat the request three times?" she said with a cool look.

"Touch me."

She blinked big eyes. "I'd rather not."

"Nuthin' personal. Just my arm or hand."

"Why would I?"

"To prove you're not scared of me."

"I'm not afraid of you! I just don't go around touching men as if they're some strange new thing." She crossed her arms and looked stubbornly out the window.

"But that's how you see us, don't you? Like strange things—things that scare you."

"This discussion is over."

He looked at her before he turned his attention on the road. Just when she thought he'd given up, he steered the pickup to the side of the road and parked it, but he left the engine running.

She swept surprised eyes around before she looked at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

He half turned in this seat as he looked at her, watching her color alternate between pale and fiery red. He could see that her anxiety level had gone sky-high already. Her eyelashes were flickering almost nonstop and her chest rose and fell with increasingly shallow breaths.

"Calm down, Bella. No one's gonna hurt you." Then he caught and held her gaze before he slowly lifted his gloved hand and held it out to her. "Just take my hand."

She nearly cringed. Her hands came up against her chest as if protecting them from a venomous snake bite and she began nervously lacing her fingers. "This is ridiculous! There's no need for me to touch you—"

"—Take my hand."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" He arched a dark blond eyebrow.

"Because I'd rather not." Her lips tugged into a single line as she all but glared at him. "We need to be going. Doctor Bennett is due to come by in a few hours and if we don't resume our trip to the city now, we'll be late—"

"—We're gonna sit here 'til you're outta excuses and take my hand even if it takes all day." He looked in earnest at her. "Take my hand, Bella. It's gloved. There ain't gonna be any skin on skin. Take my hand."

"You're being ridiculous and inappropriate!"

"That's cuz you're scared o' me."

"Nooo..." she lagged the word. "It's because it's unnecessary. When it's necessary, I won't hesitate. Now please put your hand down."

"It's necessary now."

"I disagree."

His wrist finally went limp but he didn't pull his hand back. "Tell ya what," he began and watched as she arched an eyebrow. "Tell me if your shoulder, thigh, and knee are touchin' the door."

She glared at his calm handsome face before she turned her head and looked down to her right. Much to her surprise, her shoulder, her hip, her thigh, and her knee were pressed against the door. She quickly swept her knees away and just as quickly tugged her skirt down—that hadn't crept up at all—over her knees.

"See what I mean?" he said, and he actually chuckled, too; infuriating her. "I won't say it's far, but I'd have to grease the wagon twice just to come over to you."

"What?"

"There's enough space between our bodies to seat two extra people."

She looked away with high-red cheeks. "I have to keep a professional distance. It's the proper thing to do."

"But only with me."

She snapped her head around and tried to give him a snooty look, but her big eyes were too wounded and too expressive to pull it off. "Don't flatter yourself, Mister Jacob—"

"—Just Jake. No "mister". No Jacob. Just Jake. And believe me, it ain't flatterin' that a pretty lady's too timid to warm the spot beside me."

She clamped her jaw shut as she looked out of her window again. "Can we go now?"

"Funny thing, though, you didn't seem to mind my pa touchin' your hand and your back."

"We were dancing," she said as she looked cross at him. "You have to touch your dance partner to do the Texas two-step."

"I know."

"Of course you do," she said as she looked out her window. "From what I've heard, you've "danced" the two-step more than any other man can boast."