Her eyes widened. She had thought her dad was mad that LJ was chatting instead of working, but obviously this was something more.

“I require my employees to follow my directions.” Dad planted his boots a little wider. “You want to keep this job past today, son, you won’t make me tell you again.”

“If it had to do with the job, I’d already be gone. But if it has to do with Andra, that’s her call.” He looked to her.

She forced a smile, trying not to glance around to see who was watching. “It’s okay, LJ, really. Just go get ready.” This wasn’t his problem, and the longer he stood here, the worse it made the mottled heat that burned up her neck and toward her cheeks.

He jerked a nod—to her, not her father—and walked away, his strides stiff and so long her horse had to break into a trot to catch up.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Andra spun around. “What the hell was that, Dad? He was kidding—he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t be naive, Andra,” he snapped. “He meant every filthy word.” Behind him, his gelding stomped a foot. Dad took a step closer, lowering his voice enough that the clinking spurs and conversation of the waiting area kept their conversation private. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to hire a young man onto the ranch. They look at you and start wanting all sorts of things you can’t give them.”

“You were worried I was giving him the wrong idea.” Her jaw dropped and cold slammed through her whole body. “You know, damn you, you know I refused to dance with Gavin at that party. Did you think I was being a tease then, too?”

He wouldn’t be the first to say it. After a whole childhood of jeans and riding boots, she used to love dressing up. The night of the party her dress had an asymmetrical hem slashed across the muscles of her thighs, paired with sky-high stilettos. When she told Gavin she didn’t want to dance, he gave her this incredulous up-and-down look like yes was the only answer she was allowed to give. So she told him off, in front of all his friends.

Saliva pooled thickly in her mouth. She remembered putting aside her second beer later that night without finishing it, because she felt a little woozy. She remembered looking for her friend, because she wanted to go home. She remembered waking up cuffed to a bed in Gavin’s tiny rented house.

Fingers bit into Andra’s upper arms, and her head whirled, her lungs tightening to stone in her chest.

Oh no. Not here.