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“Hope you brought sensible shoes, darlin’, otherwise you’ll end up breaking your neck.” The voice of the man behind her was deep and sensual and his aftershave had a deep woodsy scent – very appealing – it made her want to fall deeper into him, folded in his tight embrace. But she denied the urge.

Once she was steady, she stepped away from him and turned to face the man she was going to spend the next few months with. The man who stood before her was nothing like she’d envisioned. Towering roughly six inches over her 5’9”, his black t-shirt stretched over his broad chest and arms, accenting the pure muscle underneath. As her gaze rose to meet his eyes, she was shocked to see how young he appeared, perhaps late twenties. His dark hair was worn just a shade too long to be considered short. But it was his uniquely colored grey eyes that drew her in and left her staring at him not sure what to say. Nope, not even close to what she’d envisioned.

“I’m Connor and welcome to my home.” He extended his hand to her and she gingerly accepted it. His large, callused hand wrapped around her dainty one. Everything about him made her feel tiny and fragile, from his size to the confident – bordering on arrogant – way he presented himself.

He took a step back and his eyes travelled up and down the length of her. “And I pray you’ve brought some sensible clothes. You look good, but lookin’ good ain’t gonna do ya a lot of good here.”

She felt her face grow warm. When her mother told her she was going to stay with Connor at his farm, she assumed it was like one of those farms or ranches she saw on television. The ones that were glamorous homes with a farm backdrop. She didn’t imagine it was actually a
real
farm. Once the realization of the fact it was a
real
farm set in, her view of everything and everyone on the property changed.

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing her, slight disbelief in his expression. “You did bring jeans and t-shirts and clothing you don’t mind getting dirty, didn’t you?”

She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, avoiding his stare, feeling severely embarrassed. “I ummm… I didn’t think I was being sent to an
actual
farm.”

Connor folded his arms over his chest and cocked a brow at her. “Did your mother not tell you it was a farm?”

“She did… but…”

“Then what did you expect it to be?” When she didn’t answer, he began laughing. “You thought you were being sent to some house that looks like houses on that show Dallas, or that housewives show, didn’t you?”

She looked down at the ground between their feet and kicked at a little rock. This was one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. She was Samantha Wilkes, model and daughter of luxury fashion designer Virginia Wilkes. Her peers looked up to her, envied her, wishing they were her. They never made fun of her or had the nerve to make her feel stupid. The man before her was doing both.

“Sort of.”

She looked up as he laughed a second time, this time harder and louder than the first. He was starting to piss her off. So she didn’t know how to live on a farm, so what? She bet he wouldn’t last a day in her world. Being her wasn’t as peaches and cream as people thought it was. She had problems that went beyond whether she was going to wear the Louis Vuitton or Christian Louboutin
heels to the hottest club in Manhattan, she just kept them well hidden.

“What’s so funny?” Her eyes narrowed at him. He may be hot and her body may be responding to his presence, but apparently he was also an asshole. This wasn’t going to work. They were like oil and water, surely he’d see she didn’t belong there soon enough and send her home.

He’ll be sending me out of here on the next plane to New York by the end of the week
.
I’ll get to go home, Mother will apologize for listening to his brother’s suggestion to send me here and life will go on.

“What’s so funny is that if you think staying here is bad, just wait until you find out what you’re going to have to do for your pay.”

And there it was, her big issue, thrown right into her face. She had no money and was seriously regretting how fast and loose she played with the money she made on her own from her modelling gigs. She always assumed money would always come her way, one way or another. Saving and opening an account that her mother didn’t have control over would have been wise. She sighed,
Live and Learn.
She was at his mercy – for now. But once she had enough money, she was outta there!

“Come on Princess, I’ll show you to your room.” A smile still on his lips, he turned and began walking toward the farmhouse, expecting her to follow behind.

She stuck her tongue out at him as she trailed behind, not caring that it was an immature gesture. She attempted to keep up but his long, fast strides combined with the fact she was fighting to keep her balance was making keeping up impossible. She’d only made it halfway to the front porch by the time he reached it, so she was forced to endure his condescending smirk the remainder of the way.

“Darlin’ you did at least bring reasonable shoes, right?”

“I have a pair of sandals and boots with a three-inch heel.” As she reached the top step of the porch, the barking from inside began.

“Well, shit.” He grabbed one of her suitcases and opened the front door.

Samantha’s dark eyes widened in horror as a large wolf came rushing out of the house, heading straight for her. “Holy shit!” She raced behind Connor, pressing her front tight to his back, using him as a shield, keeping the beast from her. “What the fuck do you have a wolf inside the house for?”

Her question was greeted by a roar of laughter. “Max isn’t supposed to be in there, someone must have shut him in. And he’s a hybrid. Part German shepherd, part wolf. He’s a big baby, nothing to worry about.”

She peered around his massive frame to see the wolf dog sitting back on its haunches, its tail wagging happily, craning its neck attempting to see her. He didn’t seem as ferocious as he’d sounded on the other side of the solid wood door. She slowly released her hold on Connor and walked around him to inspect the dog.

Seeing her approach, his tail began wagging with more vigor, excitement reflecting in his eyes. His butt began to wiggle and before Samantha had a chance to brace herself, Max was on her, sniffing and licking at her face, his massive frame pinning her to the porch, as she screamed and attempted to push him off.

“Get him off! Get him off. Connor!” She attempted to cover her face from the assaults of dog slobber but it was useless; its gross tongue and disgusting doggie breath were overwhelming her. It seemed like an eternity before Connor’s voice boomed, ordering the dog off of her and into an obedient sitting position at his feet.

“Why did you let him do that!” Samantha scrambled to her feet, glaring up at Connor. “You could have warned me.”

He shrugged. “Guess I forgot.”

“Asshole.” She swiped at her lips with the back of her hand, attempting to remove the dog slobber.

“Whoa, quite a mouth you have on you for such a pretty little thing.”

She hated how he found such immense enjoyment out of her discomfort. She was the victim of this situation and he seemed to be relishing every second of her misery. She didn’t do a damned thing to him to deserve the treatment.

“A little consideration would be nice, you know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, well. From what my driver told me, you didn’t give him much consideration. From what I’m told you had quite a diva complex with him.”

She planted her hands on her hips and continued to glare. “He’s a driver, Connor. A driver. He’s in the service industry, it’s his
job
to make me happy.”

“No, it’s his job to take clients to and from their destinations. It’s not his job to put up with childish temper tantrums and insults.”

“Oh please. I don’t know how you people do it here in Farmland, but in my world there are two types of people: People who matter and those who serve them.”

She could see the muscles tighten in his neck as his smile slowly faded, anger filling his eyes. “Well, Princess. Here in
Farmland
, your ass is broke and until I say the word, you’re stuck here. No money, no credit cards, no trust fund and nowhere to go until I say so. So I would suggest you check that attitude right rickety tick because it won’t do you a damned bit of good when you’re shoveling shit from the stalls.”

Her eyes widened in horror at the thought of shoveling shit. There was no way, absolutely no way. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Until I say otherwise, you, honey, are nothing more than hired help, believe that.” He dropped the suitcase he was holding on the porch. “And you know what? You take the cases up the stairs yourself. You’re going to want to start working on building some upper body strength, each horse shits at least thirty pounds of shit a day. That’s a lot of shovelling.”

He gave her a wink, spun on his heel and walked into the house, expecting her to follow.

~*~*~*~

Connor grinned as he turned his back to her and stepped into the house. The look on her face when he’d told her she was going to have to shovel shit had been priceless. She was going to be more of a handful than he’d expected; he’d never met anyone who acted so entitled in his life. Her attitude bordered on hostility. There had to be more to her story than simply being spoiled all her life.

“You’re seriously not going to help?” she called out from behind him.

“Nope.” His grin widened as he heard a low growl of frustration coming from her, followed by a grunt as she began pulling them up the stairs to the second floor. He had to force himself to keep from turning and helping her with her baggage. Under normal circumstances he’d have never allowed her to carry her own luggage up the stairs. However, she had to learn her actions and ill treatment of others had consequences, something she apparently failed to learn thus far. His making her life on the farm a vacation wouldn’t do any good.

He made it to the second floor when he heard a yelp and a loud crash. Quickly he turned to see Samantha was a third of the way up the stairs, clutching to the banister with one hand. One of her suitcases was laying at the bottom of the stairs; the other she was hanging onto as if her life depended on it as she swayed on the step, her struggle in the high heels making it nearly impossible.

Oh, for the love of God
, he groaned inwardly, quickly making his way back down the steps to assist her. “Give me the bag, Sam.” He grabbed the bag from her death grip.

She glared up at him. “It’s Samantha, only my friends get to call me Sam.”

He cocked a brow up at her and grinned, but said nothing before proceeding down the stairs to retrieve her second suitcase. Her journey up the remainder of the stairs was somewhat easier, beating him to the top and looking down at him with hostility.

Connor let her hostility go for the time being, letting her get it out of her system. Reaching the top of the stairs he led her down the hallway to the bedroom next to his. The closer he had her to him the better. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the surprises she may have in store for him. He had no doubt she was going to make living with her unbearable.

“Your new home, Princess.” He opened the bedroom door and motioned for her to enter, before trailing in behind her.

He watched as she stepped into the small room; no doubt it was only a portion of the size of the one she had at home. Large enough for a double-sized bed, a double-sized dresser and vanity table.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Afraid not.”

She explored the room and opened the only door in the room, to the closet. “Where am I supposed to store stuff?”

His smile re-emerged on his lips. “The dresser, the closet.” He motioned toward the suitcases. “I’m sure it’ll all fit. It’s mostly all t-shirts and jeans anyhow, right?”

Her face flushed. “No. I told you, I didn’t think I’d need those things.”

His mouth dropped in disbelief. “You’re serious? What did you plan on doing while here?”

She shrugged. “Administrative stuff I guess.”

“I have someone who does those things for me. Besides, this is a farm, not the Ritz-Carlton.” With a sigh, he thrust a hand into his hair. He couldn’t let her break her neck, or ruin clothing worth thousands of dollars. She may not have respect for money, but he did. “Take a few minutes to get settled in and then meet me at the Jeep.”

“We’re going somewhere?”

“In town. We need to get you some decent clothing and I might as well show you around.”

Chapter 3

“Oh no, no, no, no. I am not going in there.” Samantha shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing the thrift shop with horror. “Not going to do it. Nope. No way.”

“You’re serious?” Connor asked.

Samantha stepped close to Connor and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Strangers have worn those clothes.”

His brow creased and he shrugged. “So what?”

“So, people have done stuff in those clothes.”

“Stuff? Like what?”

“Like stuff!” she hissed. She couldn’t wear used clothing… couldn’t. The idea gave her the shivers.

“Explain, otherwise you’ll be cleaning cow shit in your Christian Louboutin heels.”

Oh my God this man is so dense! And how in the hell does he know what Christian Louboutin is?

“Like they go out on dates, things get heated, dry humping occurs, then they cream their pants and it gets all rubbed into the material. Not to mention sharting and potential bladder control problems.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I know! Right?”

“The clothing does get washed, you know.”

“There’s not enough water or bleach in the world, Connor. Not enough bleach in the world.”

They both stared at the little brick building, Samantha waiting on bated breath for his decision.

“I can wear your clothing.” She’d steal his clothing if she had to. His t-shirts and jeans would be seriously big on her, but she didn’t care. She could wear a belt, roll up the cuffs, tie up the t-shirts at the back. She’d do whatever she had to, it’s not like she had anyone to impress anyhow. But she wasn’t going to wear a stranger’s clothing.