Skylar's Outlaw. Linda Warren

thinning gray hair. “Girl, this ain’t a day for you to be out.”

      She placed her hands on her hips. “Now, Ru, that sounds just like my dad.”

      “Maybe he had a point.”

      “I don’t think so. I run this ranch now and I will be involved in every aspect of it.”

      “Mmm.” Ru mulled that over. Cooper was in the background, straightening bridles on the wall. In keeping with his infuriating habit, he didn’t look her way. “We were going to change the oil in the tractors and baling equipment, so we’d be ready for harvesting season.”

      “That’s a good idea.” She glanced outside at the rain making puddles in the dirt. “Don’t know how long this is going to last, so let’s get started.”

      Cooper glanced up, his eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat. “Do you even know how to change oil?”

      She bit her lip. “Yes, I do.” Being on her own, she’d learned to do a lot of things, including changing the oil in her car. It was much cheaper. And she’d seen Cait changing the oil in the tractors, so she knew she could do it.

      Solomon, tired of waiting, butted her. Not hard, just enough to let her know he was still hungry.

      “Okay.” She took his halter. “I’ll feed you.”

      “I’ve already fed him,” Cooper said in an icy voice.

      His tone irritated her. Well, everything about him irritated her. “He’s still hungry.”

      “He’s always hungry.” The statement was just as frigid as his first response.

      “I’ll give him a little something to appease him.”

      “Suit yourself. You’re the boss.”

      She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m glad we’ve settled that.”

      She waited for a retort, but none came. With a frown deep enough to hold water, he strolled to the door that led to the lean-to equipment shed.

      She stuck out her tongue at his back. Damn. She couldn’t help it.

      Shaking his head, Ru followed Cooper. She reached for a galvanized bucket and went into the supply room for sweet feed. Solomon followed her to the trough under the overhang of the barn, and she dumped the feed into it.

      Rushing back, she grabbed a pair of denim overalls from a hook. They were Cait’s, and Sky knew she used them for dirty jobs. She slipped into them and quickly joined Rufus and Cooper.

      Several tractors and other pieces of equipment were parked in the lean-to. Ru was working on the hay baler, while Cooper squatted and looked at the underbelly of a John Deere.

      She knew she was going to have to prove herself. Another thing that irritated her, but she was trying to be nice and get along. A little cooperation on Yates’s part wouldn’t kill him.

      “I’ll change this one,” she said.

      He stood and they were inches apart. A woodsy outdoor scent tickled her nose and a long-forgotten heat tempted her senses. Golden curls of hair peeped out of the V in his western shirt. He was too close for comfort. Too close without touching…Was she insane? This man hated her and she’d do well to remember that.

      “By all means.”

      Cooper tried not to look at her in the overalls, but he failed. He didn’t want to notice one thing about her, but her fair, clean skin, devoid of makeup, was a shock. That host of freckles spread across a pert nose was hard to miss, as were the curves of her body outlined by the denim. How did she manage to look sexy in those things?

      “What do you put the old oil in?” she asked.

      He pointed to a five-gallon bucket and a funnel, but made no move to hand it to her. That wasn’t like him. He helped Cait and Maddie all the time, but with her…

      She reached for a crescent wrench from the toolbox on the ground and pulled the bucket forward as if she knew what she was doing. This could be entertaining, he thought, stepping back.

      Locating the drain plug on the underside of the cylinder block, she applied the wrench. No luck. The plug was tight with grease and gunk.

      The pouring rain hammered the tin roof of the lean-to with a soothing metallic rhythm as she worked on the plug. Suddenly, it popped free and dirty oil squirted everywhere. On the ground. On the tractor. On her.

      With a quick reflex, Coop shoved the bucket forward to catch the oil. Oil splattered her face, her overalls and her hair. She looked shocked and he wanted to laugh. He didn’t. Instead he handed her an old rag.

      She pushed herself to her feet, wiped her face and then made sure the bucket was still catching the dripping oil.

      “I’ll finish,” he offered, for no other reason than to get rid of her.

      “I can finish it.” She rubbed oil from her cheek, only managing to smear it. He thought she’d go running to the house, since the girl he’d briefly known wouldn’t get her hands dirty. Had she changed?

      He knew she had a child; he’d seen the little girl playing in the yard. But there wasn’t a husband. Seeing her as a mother was a stretch. Seeing her as a responsible, caring woman was a stretch. Seeing her as much of anything besides a social piranha was an even bigger stretch.

      And he was being judgmental—like so many people had treated him. He’d sworn he’d never do that. But with her…

      “Thank you.” She handed him the rag, and he looked at this woman with the oil-smeared face. Why did he hate her? She really had nothing to do with his situation. She’d only been a bystander.

      Keeping up this barrage of anger was eating at him. She was Dane’s daughter, and Coop had to shake whatever was driving him. Taking the rag, he turned and hurried into the barn.

      He whistled for Rebel and the horse responded, galloping into the corral, his coat wet. In a matter of minutes, Coop was saddled up and bolted out into rain, needing to put distance between them.

      The rain stopped after lunch, but still he didn’t return. He would finish the tractors that evening. Most nights he didn’t sleep, anyway.

      He blocked out thoughts of her and concentrated on the ranch. The rain was good for the corn and the hayfields, as long as they didn’t get too much. If that happened, he’d have to figure out some sort of drainage. One way or another, High Five was going to have a successful crop this year.

      Old boards tossed into the grass by the side of the main house caught his attention. He dismounted to check them out. They’d probably been blown around by the hurricane that had come through last September.

      Squatting, he saw it was an old hand-dug well shaft, abandoned years ago. He picked up the boards. A cow could step in the hole and break a leg. Tomorrow he’d fill it up with dirt. That would be the safest way to avoid any injuries.

      He used one of the small boards to scoop out indentation to lay the boards in so the wind couldn’t move them. He then kicked dirt on top with his boot. That would do for now.

      Darkness fell like a heavy cloak, the moon hidden beneath its folds. He headed for the barn and rubbed Rebel down and fed him. The dogs whined at him, not liking that he’d left them behind.

      Stepping out of the barn, Coop saw the lights were on at the house, but he didn’t turn in that direction. He marched purposefully toward the bunkhouse, his private space.

      First, he fed the dogs and played with them for a while. They licked his face and wagged their tails, forgiving easily. He needed to find that emotion somewhere inside him.

      His clothes were still damp, so he took a quick shower. Drying off, he heard a knock—no doubt Rufus, bringing supper. Coop grabbed jeans and hopped, skipped and jumped into them as he made his way toward the door. He’d have to tell Ru to stop bringing food. He could cook his own meals.

      In