Carmen worked at the hay with the toe of her boot. So what was the connection? The only thing she had in common with that girl was the fact that they were both poor. Apparently he thought she was heartless, as well - over a stupid bird? How long had it been since he had been jilted - five years? And he was still bitter? She jammed her hands in her pockets.
"Once bitten, twice shy," she muttered under her breath.
He glanced back at her. "What?"
"Nothing." She held the gate as he carried the bucket of water into the stall.
He exited the stall and closed the gate, staring down at her defiantly.
"I threw the hen into the woods, so the fox will probably get it anyway."
"You what?" Carmen glared up at him. "Of all the . . . Now he'll get a taste for chickens and start raiding my hen house every night. Thanks a lot for training him to hunt my chickens."
He stared at her in surprise. "Hello? The fox was already in your chicken house. That's why the chicken died, remember? I'm not training him to do anything."
"Well, you didn't have to give the chicken to the fox. We could have slaughtered it."
"How thoughtless of me," he said dryly. "Maybe you'd like me to hike out to the highway and scrape up some road kill for supper."
She met his bittersweet chocolate gaze defiantly, their noses literally inches apart. And then the bitterness was gone from his eyes, leaving only the sweetness . . . and a touch of something else. An uneasy feeling began in the pit of her stomach. He smelled faintly of cologne and leather and his lips were smooth and . . . Wait a minute. Weren't they in the middle of an argument?
She took a quick step backward, blood racing up her neck and warming her cheeks.
"Oh, what's the use? In a little while you'll be gone. If the fox gets fat on my hens, it's no skin off your nose. You'll be propped on your backside eating shrimp and steak. I'm wasting my breath."
A smile played at the corners of his mouth and danced in his eyes. The jerk. He knew she had been flustered by his close presence, and he was enjoying it.
"Well, anyway," he concluded. "I poured cement in the hole he dug under the hen house. He won't be back in there." He moved toward her. "Now why don't we discuss what's really on our minds."