She finished in record time. He’d lied; there was toilet paper. She jerked her panty hose up only to snag them on a sliver of wood that was sticking out, sending a three-inch run from thigh to ankle.
At this point in time, she didn’t care that she’d paid twenty frigging dollars for the hose. Marge would replace them. Boy, would she replace them.
She yanked the panty hose off and tossed them in the hole before pulling her skirt down, then opened the door. Blessed fresh air from a welcome breeze hit her in the face when she stepped out. She let the door slam behind her. As she walked up the path, her legs wobbled and she was light-headed from holding her breath.
How the hell was she going to manage to stay here until she got her stupid story? The homestead was deplorable. She couldn’t live here under these conditions. No one would expect her to.
Was she throwing in the towel?
No, damn it!
At least she’d been saved from Cal laughing at her. He wasn’t at the back door. He hadn’t seen her humiliation, and she’d make sure he never did. If she had to face outhouses and raccoons every day until she got her story, she would. Giving up was not an option.
A shadow moved across one window. He’d said the homestead was haunted. A cold chill of foreboding swept over her.
Of course the place wasn’t haunted! Now she was being utterly ridiculous and she knew better than this. Her parents hadn’t raised a fool.
Now, the stupid raccoon was a different matter. She could see it, touch it, and had even smelled it-which hadn’t been pleasant. The raccoon made her nervous and she was never, well, hardly ever, nervous.
She would not let a dumb animal defeat her, nor an imaginary ghost or even a smelly outhouse. She was Nikki Scott and no one got the best of her.
Chapter 3
Cal moved from the bedroom window just in case Nikki decided to look his way. She didn’t seem quite as confident as she had right before she went inside the outhouse.
Big city had just met country and it hadn’t been pretty.
Not that he could blame her for looking a little shaken. You couldn’t pay him to go inside an outhouse. In fact, he didn’t know why anyone, other than Nikki, would want to stay at the old homestead, but there were actually people who did. If they felt that compelled to know how it was done in the early days, they could read a book.
But Cal knew her reason, and he had her number. She hated it here. He grinned. That was pretty much a gimme and had been from the moment she’d laid eyes on the place. This wasn’t part of whatever bargain she’d cut with her editor. He expected Nikki to walk straight through the house, out to her car, and never look back.
Good-bye reporter.
Damned shame, though. If the circumstances were different, he’d have liked to get to know her better. She was a looker, with her short, dark hair and those pouty lips that were made for kissing.
If that wasn’t enough, her breasts were full. The kind that were made for cupping, massaging. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined how they would feel.
And she had great legs. Long and sexy. He bit back a groan as he imagined them wrapping around him and pulling him in closer, deeper. Images filled his mind. Her naked. Him naked. Together. On the bed.
He could barely draw in a steady breath when he heard the back door slam. Man, if his fantasies about her were this good, what would the real thing be like? Not that he’d ever find out. The outhouse was enough to scare anyone away.
He waited for the front door to slam.
It didn’t.
He frowned.
Why wasn’t she leaving? Any normal woman would’ve already run screaming from the cabin. But then, Jeff had told him they called her the barracuda.
Maybe she was. The cabin hadn’t scared her off. Bandit was an unplanned bonus. The raccoon should’ve had her running out the front door, but she’d only made it as far as his arms. Damn, she’d felt nice pressed against him, her body trembling. And she’d smelled nice, like exotic flowers.
But he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter. Barracuda? Nah, she’d been more like a little harmless goldfish. Well, at least until she’d realized he thought the situation was funny. She hadn’t liked that very much. Her eyes had flashed their annoyance.
He kind of liked her annoyed. Sexy as hell. He wouldn’t mind spending time getting to know her a little better. Except for the fact she still wanted to fry his ass and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So maybe it was time to bring out the big guns, or in this case the broom. Cynthia had turned up her nose at doing any kind of manual labor. Heaven forbid she break a fingernail.
What would Nikki’s reaction be?
He went into the living room. He could hear her mumbling to herself in the kitchen. He couldn’t make out the words, though. On the other hand, he might not want to know.
“Having trouble?” he asked.
She jumped and whirled around. “This thing is out of water.” She waved her hand at the pump.
“Did you lift the handle up, then push it down?”
She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes, but it didn’t do anything.”
Cal had to at least give her credit for sticking around this long-reporter or not. He’d give her until the end of the day. By the time he finished with her, she’d be glad to give up trying to get a story and run back to the city.
He raised the handle and pushed it down several times before water began to flow. Without so much as a thank-you, she washed her hands, then shook them dry.
He should’ve known she wouldn’t lower herself to his level. Jeff had said her parents were lawyers. That meant money. Maybe not as rich as Cynthia, but he’d bet his last dollar she’d never had to suffer any kind of hardship.
Man, he needed to get away to clear his head. “I’m going back to the ranch to get something to cover the hole where Bandit got inside the house,” he said. “There’s a broom and a mop on the back porch. You might want to get started on the cleaning before it gets dark.
“Cleaning?”
“That’s part of the experience of staying in the old homestead.” He smiled and tugged on the brim of his hat before turning to leave.
“Uh…”
He looked back. Her expression showed uncertainty. He almost felt sorry for her. Until he remembered why she was there. She wanted to use him just like Cynthia had tried to use him, just like all the reporters who hounded him for a picture or a story. His heart quickly hardened. At least it was his heart this time and not another part of his anatomy.
“You wanted something else?” he asked.
“There isn’t really a ghost, is there?”
Not exactly what he thought she was going to ask. Maybe he could cut her a little slack. “I’ve never seen one, but my little brother swears the cabin is haunted. My grandmother once told me a young woman died here. That’s how my grandmother’s parents were able to buy this property so cheap. People were scared to live here.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “But no one has ever been hurt or anything?”
He could lie, tell her the ghost was evil, when in truth he thought his brother had made the whole thing up. That would have her running to her car.
The last few weeks had been boring as hell, though. Nikki was damned easy on the eyes. He didn’t like reporters and he damned sure didn’t like manipulating females. It was time he got a little back. If nothing else, for the entertainment factor. He had a feeling Nikki would be very entertaining.
“No one has ever been hurt.” He turned and went to the door. Her heels clicked right behind him. When he stepped outside, he started having second thoughts. She was a city girl. What if she hurt herself-even though she was trying to hurt him?
“You don’t have to stay here, you know. There’d be no shame in changing your mind.” He removed his worn Stetson, scraped his fingers through his hair before replacing his hat.