He marched her forward at a brisk pace. He didn’t know which cottage Melissa had been assigned, but single women were usually on the river side of the arena, so he took a chance and turned right.
“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t about walking me back to my cabin?” asked Melissa.
Jared gritted his teeth, struggling to bring his emotions back under control. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here to earn money for a bus ticket?”
Three
Melissa ordered herself not to panic. There was no reason to assume he knew the truth. But even as she mentally reassured herself, the roots of her hair prickled in dread.
His pace was brisk, his large hand still wrapped around her upper arm. It felt strong and uncompromising as steel. She wondered if he intended to march her all the way to his property line.
“First the chauffeur.” Jared’s angry voice cut through the night air. “Then Anthony.” He sucked in a tight breath. “And I can guess what went on with the damn horse.”
The last took Melissa by surprise.
The horse? Why would she interview his horse?
“Ride it yourself?” Jared taunted.
Melissa struggled to make sense out of the accusation. She hadn’t ridden the horse herself, but how could that possibly be relevant?
“Or did you get a little help?” he finished on a meaningful lilt.
He obviously already knew she had. There was no point in lying about that. “I got one of the cowboys to help me. Rich or Rand or Rafe…something…”
“I’ll just bet you did.” The contempt in Jared’s voice was crystal clear.
“So what?” Her confusion was starting to turn to annoyance. Rafe had, in fact, offered to help her. The whole operation hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes of his time. “So what?” Jared jerked her to a stop and rounded on her, glaring from beneath his battered tan Stetson.