Chapter Nine
The ride back to her ranch was filled with tension so thick that Brielle wondered how it was the windows didn't shatter. Colt was in a less than perfect mood, and she thought back to what had happened during their time in the store.
Yes, they'd kissed, and yes, she'd run away from him afterward, but he'd seemed fine while she was speaking with the three surprisingly friendly women. It wasn't until after his friend had arrived that he'd grown so grumpy and distant. Maybe Hawk wasn't really a good friend and Colt didn't like being around him. But she and Colt were hardly the best of friends themselves, so she couldn't ask him about it.
///
So instead, she just sat there in the passenger seat and hoped for the ride to end as soon as possible. The quicker it was over, the less smothered she'd feel by the claustrophobic air inside his truck. When they finally arrived at the ranch, she bolted.
"Be ready to leave in thirty minutes," Colt yelled after her as she scampered up her front steps.
She didn't bother with a response, because his truck was already pulling away. Not looking back, she went inside the house and looked around critically for the hundredth time as she walked up the staircase toward her bedroom.
No one could call the house luxurious. Its bare walls were begging for a fresh coat of paint. The sparse furnishings that had come with the house were okay for this neck of the woods, she supposed, and some of them were probably considered antiques, but none of it lined up with her typical taste.
She liked modern furniture with clean, crisp edges and bold colors. This ranch house still had red-and-white-checked curtains that looked as if they'd been around since the house was built. The only saving grace was her bedroom.
At least her father had paid to have her furniture shipped in. She'd told him there was no way she was sleeping on some dead person's old mattress. He'd laughed but agreed that he wouldn't do that either.
So, as she stepped into her room, she felt a little cheered up looking at her four-poster bed with teal coverings and whimsical cloth hanging from the corners. The lines of her cherry wood furniture were beautiful, and she loved to sit on the comfortable stool in front of her matching vanity and see her perfumes all in a neat row, each one calling out to be the fragrance du jour.
She turned her shopping bags upside down on the bed and looked at her new purchases. They certainly didn't constitute clothing she ever thought she'd own, but she wanted to see her property on horseback, so she'd do what she had to.
After changing quickly into a pair of snug-fitting Wranglers and a green cotton button-up shirt, she sat down and pulled on the uncomfortable boots. Peggy had assured her that they would form to her feet and that soon she wouldn't want to wear anything else. Yeah, right.
Brielle looked longingly at the heels she'd just taken off. From the time she turned thirteen she'd been wearing them. When a girl was blessed with a height of only five foot three, she needed all the advantages she could get - and they came by wearing the highest heels possible.
Though heels, especially high heels, could cause some major pain after a few hours, it was about the look, the feel of having on a pair of shoes that made you feel taller, prettier, and certainly sexier. She might be in the backwoods of a ranching state, but that didn't mean she needed to throw fashion to the wind. She would never change so much that she didn't care about her appearance. Yes, she could admit that maybe she spent a little too much time on it, but in the world she'd grown up in, looks really did matter.
How sad was that …
Wait. Why was it sad? A woman who could highlight her assets wasn't a rich bimbo; she was just smart. This dang place was sure to ruin her!
Throwing her hair back into a ponytail - wasn't that practical of her? - she decided she'd spent enough time upstairs. If she took too long, she had no doubt, Colt wouldn't wait around for her down at the horse barn. Fighting to get used to the boots as she came down the stairs, Brielle held tight to the railing, keeping her eye on it to make sure no spiders were going to pop out. This would be a much longer drop than the tumble she'd taken off the front porch.
She didn't bother locking her front door after she shut it behind her. It seemed no one here locked doors. As there was very little crime in Sterling, she actually felt safe. It was a weird feeling to go from a world in which the door stayed locked 24/7, to a place where an open door was expected, part of the mind-set.
When she entered the horse barn, she ran smack into Tony, and a little of her excitement vanished. Why did her foreman have to be so grouchy all the time? What was his problem with her? Sure, she didn't want to be in charge of this place, but she did own it, and it would really help if the guy just gave her a chance.