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so he could examine it. She had a nasty blister that had been worked too hard.

      “I have a first aid kit in the office.”

      When he met her eyes, he was surprised anger didn’t look back at him. If anything, he saw desire. Interesting...and useful. Passion left people weak and he’d definitely home in on that.

      Annabelle blinked, as if she realized she’d been caught staring at him. Pulling her hand back, she held it against her chest once again.

      “I’ll take care of it when I get home. I need to start dinner.”

      “The hell you say?” He hadn’t meant to shout, but was she kidding? “You’ve worked all day.”

      Annabelle let out a humorless laugh. “Well, Colt, in the real world people work, make their own meals and tend to their families. We all can’t live the life of luxury and sit back, living the dream.”

      Is that how she saw him? He’d worked his ass off taking over this ranch when his father had fallen ill. He’d poured more blood, sweat and tears into this land than any male in the Elliott family. Being the youngest, he always felt the need to prove himself, especially against his brothers. How the hell could he compete with a surgeon, a war hero and a Hollywood star? He was a damn rancher. A billionaire, but still a man who wore dusty boots, a worn hat that had been his father’s, and holey jeans.

      “You can take two minutes and let me clean that wound up.”

      When she stifled a yawn with her good hand, he muttered a curse and stomped off to get the first aid kit. Why did she have to be so stubborn and why did he have to find her even more attractive because of it?

      By the time he came back, she’d taken a seat on one of the heavy wooden benches between the stone stalls. Her lids were lower and she seemed to have finally run out of steam. Perfect. Then she wouldn’t be able to argue with him.

      “You work harder than nearly any man I know,” he told her, opening the kit.

      “Does that mean I get a raise?” she asked, leaning her head against the wall behind her.

      Colt laughed as he placed her hand in his palm. He swiped around the perimeter of the cut with an alcohol pad, careful not to get near the wound. He blew on her hand to dry the moisture. When she trembled, he glanced up to find her eyes on his. That shade of green never failed to kick him in the gut. She could pierce a man with that stare and have him wound in her web so fast, he’d have no idea he was caught until it was too late.

      “I know you hate me, but you really shouldn’t be fighting your father’s battles.”

      A sad smile crossed her face. “Isn’t that what family is all about? When one is weak, others stand up and take the lead. We’re all we have left. My mother passed when Trish and I were younger. Now that Trish is gone...”

      She shook her head and he wanted to know so much more. When he’d wanted a woman in the past, he’d never asked personal information. Backstory had no place in the bedroom. He had to remember that here because he could so easily let this niggle of guilt guide his emotions.

      He had a goal. He had a vision he would see to the end, to honor his father, to prove to his brothers he wasn’t just playing cowboy and to prove to himself he could do it. The dude ranch was only one more business deal away...he just had to get past this fiery vixen to make that vision a reality.

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