They got lost in their own heads for the last twenty minutes of their ride to the ranch, and just as he'd suspected, the sun was almost all the way down by the time they reached her horse barn.
He was beginning to get on edge as he tried to figure out his jumbled thoughts about this complicated woman, so when the next words from her mouth were a complaint, he didn't react well.
"How does anyone ride horses day and night?"
"You get used to it."
"I can get down myself," she snapped when he held out a hand to assist her from the horse.
"I know you can. I was just trying to be helpful."
Colt had to admit he was surprised when she gripped the harness and hoisted herself off the horse, her legs shaking but somehow still managing to hold her up. Well, the day wasn't quite over yet, as she was about to find out.
"How is your hip feeling?" She was limping slightly, but not too badly. She'd live.
"I'm fine," she told him with enough heat that he knew she was indeed fine. So fine.
"Good. We need to brush down the horses, then."
Brielle looked at him as if he were sprouting horns. "No. I'm going inside now."
Colt lost his smile. "They've worked hard for us. We need to give them a brushing." His voice was firm, but she'd asked to be taught and this was a valuable lesson. Even if they were exhausted, their horses still needed to be taken care of.
"Well, have at it," she told him as she turned to leave.
"I won't take you out again if you don't take care of your animal," he said.
"You work for me, Colt. Don't forget that." She then turned again.
"Don't get too overconfident, Brielle. It makes you look like a spoiled little snot, and that happens way too often." He wasn't even attempting to be pleasant now. Though there'd been a nice stretch in the middle, the day had gone rather badly and was aiming to end even worse.
She turned to glare while still walking away, and that's when her foot sank into in a big pile of fresh horse dung.
"That's it!" she yelled, causing several heads to turn in her direction. "Look all you want! I've had it with this stinky, smelly place."
The men in there were trying desperately to quiet their laughter, but after she was gone and the echo of her front door being slammed could be heard all the way down in the horse barn, the men let go and laughed aloud.
"That's enough," Colt warned them, and they stopped at once. "She may be having a difficult time here, but she does own the place. You might want to remember that."
"Aw, Colt. You'll own it soon enough," one of the hands said.
"I don't know, Brandon. She may be a pain in the ass, but I think a lot of it's an act. That woman has more backbone than I would have given her credit for on the first day I met her," Colt told the young man.
None of the men knew how to respond to that, so they shut up. They were so sure the city girl would run off into the night that they hadn't even considered the possibility that she might actually stick around.
Colt decided it was a good time to head home. He handed Brielle's horse over to Brandon to take care of, then climbed on board his stallion, and rode off.
One thing was certain. He had a lot to think about.
Chapter Eleven
For two days Brielle refused to leave her house. It was probably the only place in the entire county where the door was locked and the lights were off. She didn't want to see anyone, and didn't want to climb from her bed. She was embarrassed that she'd opened up to Colt, and more embarrassed about her snotty attitude afterward.
But that's what Brielle did. When she was afraid, when she began to let someone in, she had to fix it quickly, keep that person away. Because if she let them in to her heart, they had power to break it.
That had happened once when she was thirteen, a naïve idiot full of absurd hopes. It wouldn't happen again. Shaking her head, she shut down her memories of that horrible day so long ago. She'd told herself she wouldn't think about it, and she wasn't going to. No way.
///
She'd made her way downstairs a few times and fetched food to carry back to her room and eat in bed, but other than that, she stayed upstairs and popped Advil like candy to relieve her miserable muscles and the ache in her hip where the deep scratch burned.
A few hot baths, a lot of movies, and about sixty hours were just what she needed, though. Because on the third day, she woke up to find she wasn't hurting nearly as badly.
She could run this ranch without looking like a spoiled brat. The key was to not open up to anyone, to keep it all about business. If she did that, she'd be tough, ready for anything. Brielle knew she was smart, even if most people didn't see that. She chose for them not to. Just one more effective barrier against the world.