The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(3)
Author: Jessica Clare

“You could probably put an ad in one of the Outdoor magazines. I—” He stopped and turned back to her. “Are you writing this down?”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Oh, did you say to write this down? I must not have heard that.”

“Write it down,” he said between clenched teeth.

She took out a green notepad from under a pile of papers and wrote notes. “Young. Hot. Certifiable. Outdoorsy.”

“Maybe we should look for a new assistant, too,” he said in an unpleasant voice.

“Time for a vote,” Brenna said, ignoring Grant’s tone. “All those in favor of hiring someone new for classes, raise your hand.”

All three men’s hands went up.

“All those in favor of firing Brenna?”

Only Grant’s hand went up.

She stuck her lower lip out at him, mock-pouting. “Sorry, Grant. You lose.”

“I’m the one who writes the checks here,” he said in an annoyed tone, moving back to his desk.

She shrugged and glanced back at Dane and Colt. They were her yardstick that she went by. If they were frowning, she’d gone too far. If they were laughing and smirking, she was just giving Grant crap like one of the boys, and it was tolerable. And both were still grinning with amusement.

Good enough for her. She wiped the crumbs off her desk and then moved to go grab one of the few remaining donuts. “I’ll go wake up Pop and tell him that breakfast is here.” As she walked to the door, she added, “He’s going to be so upset, though, once he finds out that Grant drank his coffee.”

As she shut the door behind her, she heard Grant protest. “How was I supposed to know it was his drink? She only bought four damn coffees!”

Brenna grinned to herself. Whistling, she skipped over to Pop’s cabin.

• • •

Later that afternoon, she found herself working alone in the main cabin with Grant. This was normally enough to make Brenna want to run screaming for the hills. Or better yet, to find a task—any task—that would get her out of the building and away from his nitpicking. You’re doing this all wrong, Brenna, he would say. You need to catalog the receipts in date order, and then alphabetically. You can’t just throw them all into a big pile.

She made a face just thinking about that. Nothing she ever did pleased him and his anal-retentive ways.

“Do you have the flight info?” he asked her for the third time that day.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Brenna glanced over at him and kept her voice neatly controlled. “For the third time, yes. I printed them out and put the arrival and gate information on your desk.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to print it out again?” She gave him an innocent look. “You know, just in case one copy isn’t enough?”

Behind his designer glasses, Grant gave her a sharp, narrow-eyed look. “One is fine. Thank you.”

She nodded and went back to emailing one of her friends. Email was really her best friend when she was at work. It made it look like she was busy and if she was busy, then Grant would leave her alone. Theoretically.

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Brenna.”

She froze. That did not sound like Grant. Glancing over, Brenna kept the frown off her face and managed to look only mildly concerned. “Sorry?”

Grant took off his glasses and ran a hand down his face. “I know I keep asking you for the same information over and over again. I’m just a little . . . out of sorts with family coming in to town.”

“Oh,” she said, and then added, “no sweat.”

Okay, he was officially weirding her out. Grant never apologized to her. Like, ever. She typed a moment longer, then fired off the email.

“You put in the ad for the new instructor?”

She nodded and lifted a piece of paper without looking over at him. “Do you want to review it again?”

“Huh? Oh. No, that’s okay.” He lifted the picture on the corner of his desk and then sighed heavily. “Are you going to get dressed at any point today?”

This was more like Grant. She felt a little better. Brenna glanced down at her T-shirt and SpongeBob boxers. “I’m pretty sure all my body parts are covered. Did we get a dress code that I didn’t know about?”

“No. It’s just that my family’s coming in.”

“Should I hide under my desk so I don’t appall them with my hideousness?”

“Very funny. No, just straighten up while I’m gone, please.” He grabbed a stack of envelopes and began to arrange them into a neat pile. “Make sure the magazines are all lined up and if you could dust, that would be terrific.”

“Oh wow.” Brenna mockingly touched her shirt. “I didn’t realize I dressed up as the maid today.”

“Ha, ha, Brenna. You’re an assistant. You occasionally will have to do some sort of work. Today it just means cleaning up.” He ran a finger along the fireplace mantel. “And dusting.”

She saluted him. “Whatever you say, boss.”

He gave her an exasperated look as he headed back to his desk. Grant picked up his keys and paused, glancing around the main lodge. “You think they’ll be proud of what we’ve accomplished here?”

“Why are you asking me?”

A wry expression twisted Grant’s mouth. “Good point. Like I said, it’s just nerves.”

She stared at him. He’d almost just smiled at her. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand down his face again and tugged at his collar once more. He was clearly nervous. “Just a bit distracted.”

“You’ll be fine once you see them,” Brenna said, and then almost bit her tongue. Why was she trying to soothe him? “Shouldn’t you be going soon?”

He nodded and turned to the door, then turned back to her again. “I don’t suppose you can get rid of the purple in your bangs?”

Her purple Bettie Page bangs? She loved them. Brenna glared and pointed at the door. “Go.”

Grant nodded. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. They look nice.”

As she sat there at her desk, mouth hanging open, Grant turned and headed outside just as Dane bounded through the door, coming inside. The big athlete shook rain from his hair, grinning cheerfully. “Looks like it’s going to be a downpour soon.”

Brenna ran to him, dragging him away from the front door and to the back of the main office. “What’s up with Grant?”