That seemed to give him pause; his arrogant mask slipped, revealing something she didn’t really want to acknowledge.
Respect.
But as soon as she saw it, he stiffened. “I’ll talk to him.”
“But—”
“If he agrees with me, you stay out of the room.”
“What? Do you have bodies hidden in it?”
His face went pale. “You should probably move on to the next bathroom if you want to finish before dinner. After all, it won’t cook itself.”
Tears stung in the backs of her eyes.
What happened to the man at the club? The one who had rescued her? Bought her shoes, picked her up off the floor and flirted with her?
Suddenly Brock cursed under his breath. “Don’t move,” he whispered. Which was weird. But weirder still was the look on his face as he stared at the ceiling above her head.
Jane froze, but driven by curiosity, she slowly craned her neck to see what he was giving the death stare.
“I said,” Brock ground through clenched teeth, “don’t. Move.”
“But—”
“For fuck’s sake just stop arguing!”
Her shoulders slumped. Was it necessary to yell at her?
“Two mice.” His eyes narrowed. “And by the looks of them they’ve either eaten their young or been feeding off the donkey for the past few months.”
“Not the cock?” she mumbled.
Brock’s eyes heated, dipping down to her mouth before flashing with anger. “Clearly you don’t clean as well as you think.”
She refused to let the insult sting. “It’s a ranch house. They probably snuck in through a crack on the wall. I’ll shoo them away and you can start fixing things up, handyman.”
“Me?” He snorted. “No, no, I think that falls under the hired help category. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“Hunh.”
“What?” He frowned. “What’s that look?”
“I just should have expected someone like you to be like this. I bet you get manicures, too…and since you probably don’t want to get a sliver, I guess I’ll have to step up. Where’s your hammer?”
“Let’s leave my hammer out of this.”
“The real hammer, not the sexual one you’re envisioning in your mind in order to distract me from the fact that you’re a spoiled, silver spoon-fed city boy with the brain of a gnat.”
He burst out laughing. “You think you know all about me, hunh?”
“Not much to know,” she challenged, crossing her arms. “At least from this vantage point.” She made sure to lower her eyes and smirk. “Nothing at all.”
He took a step toward her but she backed away. “I’ll be back. It seems I have a rat to deal with.”
“They’re mice,” he called after her.
“Wasn’t talking about them!” She yelled back, making her way down the stairs and out the screen door. It slammed behind her.
The hot Arizona sun burned down on her skin.
The bastard!
She took a few deep breaths and glanced back at the house. Could he be more insulting?
Okay, she sighed. If I was a mousetrap where would I hide?
After a few minutes rummaging in the barn, where the ass was currently watching her with terrifying intensity, she found some rat poison and two mousetraps.
She walked back into the house, grabbed some peanut butter for the traps, then carefully walked up the stairs.
Brock hadn’t moved from his spot. Instead, he was staring into the bathroom as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“Move.” She pushed by him.
“Maybe we should just shut the door,” He offered in a quiet voice.
She jerked away from his body. “Shut the door? And what? Let the mice just spread throughout the house?”
He seemed unsure, and then with a nod stepped away from her as she made her way back into the bathroom.
Both mice were huddled in the corner, as if people didn’t bother them one bit.
Were they pets or something?
They looked at her, then at each other, then back at her, and slowly approached like she was holding out treats.
“I can’t do it.” She stood and slowly backed out of the room.
“What the hell do you mean you can’t do it?” Brock roared. “They’re mice. They carry diseases.”
“They have kind eyes!” She lowered the traps. “And I can’t be responsible for their deaths.”
“You’re serious?”
She nodded and shoved the traps into his hands. In hindsight, she could have done it more slowly, possibly more gently, but the minute the traps snapped she knew it was too late.
With a loud roar, Brock stumbled backward, one trap clinging to his fingers, the other hanging from his T-shirt from what looked like part of his nipple.
He was still yelling in rage.
Jane covered her face with her hands.
When he was done swearing, she jerked the trap from his chest, harder perhaps than necessary.
His glare said it all. “It’s not funny.”
She bit down on her bottom lip and grabbed the other trap from his right hand.
“There.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re as good as new.”
Nostrils flaring, he brushed up against her, setting her body instantly on fire. “You did that on purpose.”
“Had I done it on purpose I would have aimed lower,” she said sweetly, blinking her eyes in innocence while trying to get out of the too small bathroom with the large man in it. Regardless of how many times he acted like a jerk, he intrigued her way more than she cared to admit. Because she couldn’t forget how kind he’d been at the party. And that guy had to be in there, too, right?