Even though they were in the middle of nowhere, there was a distinct lack of privacy. There were no outdoor shower facilities and the ranch hands could wander through the area at any moment. Unless they wanted to compare penis sizes, they probably wouldn’t be too interested in seeing Shorty naked. Seeing Laramie in the nude was a different story.
Anastasia wouldn’t mind sneaking a peek either, though she suspected one fleeting glance wouldn’t be enough. It would most likely whet her appetite rather than curb it.
How am I supposed to share a bathroom with her? If I walk in on her stepping out of the shower, I might make a fool out of myself. If I haven’t already.
Laramie was like a walking caution sign. Anastasia kept telling herself to be careful around her, but the more time she spent with her, the more she felt like throwing caution to the wind.
“I want to rinse some of this mud off before it dries any harder,” Laramie said. “My jeans are so stiff I can barely walk.”
The thick mud on Shorty’s jeans sounded like ice cracking when he bent to turn on the water. “Now I know how the Tin Man must have felt before Dorothy found an oil can in The Wizard of Oz.” He let out a piercing whistle that prompted one of the horses in the nearby stables to whinny in response. “Jiminy Cricket, this water’s cold.”
His teeth chattered as he directed the stream toward his shirt and pants. Rivulets of mud flowed off his clothes and pooled at his feet.
“Don’t forget to rinse the inside of your boots,” Laramie said. “You’ve been squishing ever since the boys pulled you out of that hole.”
Shorty pulled off his boots and stuffed the end of the hose in each one. When he turned the boots upside down, the liquid that streamed out looked like day-old coffee.
“Your turn.”
He handed the hose to Laramie, then stripped off his shirt, socks, and pants, leaving him clad in only an undershirt and a pair of baggy boxer shorts. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat anywhere. His thin arms and legs looked like matchsticks.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said after Elena tossed him a large bath towel. He dried his face and chest, then wrapped the towel around his nearly nonexistent waist.
Elena wiggled her fingers. “The underthings, too.”
Shorty arched his eyebrows after he heard the translation. “If she wanted to see me naked, all she had to do was ask.”
Elena grunted noncommittally. “As far as I can tell, there isn’t much to see.”
“I’m what you call a grower, not a show-er.” Shorty tossed his wet T-shirt and boxers at Elena’s feet. “I’d better get a move on if I’m going to make myself decent in time for dinner. Ladies.”
Shorty tipped his hat and headed to the bunkhouse, water sloshing off his wet boots with every step he took. He was so skinny the towel practically swallowed him. Elena chuckled at the sight of Shorty’s wiry frame fading into the distance.
“He has a nice face underneath all that tobacco juice, but he could use some fattening up. Remind me to give him an extra helping of mashed potatoes tonight and two extra piroshki for breakfast.”
Anastasia nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak. She was struck dumb by the vision before her.
Laramie closed her eyes and stuck her head under the hose in order to rinse mud off her face. Water dampened her sun-bleached hair and splashed on her white tank top, rendering the undergarment nearly transparent. Anastasia could clearly see the black sports bra Laramie was wearing, along with the outline of her hardened nipples. The thin cotton material of her tank top clung to the rippled muscles in her abdomen.
Laramie played the water over her legs, soaking her jeans. Anastasia felt herself grow wet, too, even though she was nowhere near the hose.
Eschewing modesty for comfort, Laramie kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her jeans. Before she pulled her tank top over her head and wrapped the towel around her damp body, Anastasia committed the image of her in her underwear to memory. Laramie had the body of a goddess, and Anastasia was tempted to drop to her knees in worship.
“She looks strong,” Elena said.
Strong was one word Anastasia would use to describe her. The rest she chose to keep to herself.
Laramie took off her socks, then used the towel as a cover-up as she removed her bra and boxer briefs.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Elena asked.
Anastasia was taken aback by the sudden change in subject. When she heard the translated question, Laramie seemed to be as well. She looked at Anastasia as if she thought she wanted the information instead of Elena. The question might not have been her idea, but Anastasia was definitely interested in the answer.
“No, ma’am. Aside from my family, I don’t have anyone special in my life.” Laramie allowed her gaze to linger on Anastasia’s face before she turned to Elena. “It’s just me, my parents, and my brother. He’s the main reason I’m here. He got hurt and needs some help with his medical bills.”
In a way, Anastasia was disappointed by Laramie’s response rather than relieved. If Laramie had a lover waiting for her—someone she had to be faithful to—it would make her obvious charms easier to resist.
“I am sorry to hear about your brother’s misfortune,” Elena said. “I hope he gets better soon.”
“So do I.”
“What about you, Anastasia? You’re seeing Sergei’s nephew, correct?”
Anastasia chose her words carefully so she wouldn’t have to be dishonest. She didn’t want to ruin her burgeoning friendship with Elena by lying to her on the first day of their acquaintance. “Mischa and I live together.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Mischa is—” Like a brother to me. “He is the best man I’ve ever known.” She decided to turn the tables so Elena wouldn’t ask her to reveal more details about her relationship with Mischa. She knew the questions would come eventually, but she wanted to put them off as long as possible. “Do you have someone?”
Elena looked wistful. “I gave up on finding companionship long ago. Work keeps me too busy to worry about foolish things like falling in love.”
“So you don’t have your eye on Yevgeny or any of the ranch hands?”
Elena laughed long and loud. “Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, and Fyodor have women of their own, and the only thing Yevgeny cares about is money. I am safe here.”
“Safe. That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“At my age, security is more important than sex.”
Elena was a relatively young woman. Anastasia was surprised to hear her say she had taken herself off the market.
“Everyone has needs from time to time. You don’t mind being out here all alone?”
Elena shook her head with an air of finality. “Sex has never been very important to me. I don’t miss it. The men here, they respect me. They don’t try to take advantage. They go their way and I go mine. You are young and still in thrall to your hormones. Eventually, you will learn there is more value in earning someone’s respect than sparking their desire.”
“Fortunately, that day hasn’t come yet.”
“It will. Just give it time.” Elena gathered Shorty’s and Laramie’s wet clothes. “I will return these to you after I take them out of the dryer.” She regarded the dirty water dripping from the sodden material. “It’s a good thing Fyodor changed the filter on the washing machine last week. Because I’m about to put it to the test.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Laramie said, even though Elena and Anastasia had been speaking in Russian.
Her intuition took Anastasia by surprise sometimes. How did she always seem to know the right thing to say even when she didn’t know what was being said?
“Do not apologize.” Elena opened the back door with her foot and dropped the soiled clothes on the floor of the appropriately named mud room. “You and Shorty are providing me with job security.”
Laramie grinned after she listened to Anastasia’s translation. “Anything I can do to help.
”
Elena placed the clothes in the washing machine, poured in a cupful of detergent, and lowered the lid. “Believe me, you have done enough for one day. Get dressed. I will ring the dinner bell in an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Laramie headed inside with her boots in her hand. The sight of her wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and a towel wasn’t quite as comical as the sight of Shorty in his underwear, but it was pretty close.
Anastasia checked her watch. “You’re serving dinner so soon? I thought you said you didn’t normally feed everyone until eight.”
Elena jerked her thumb in Laramie’s direction. “If she plans on changing the schedule, I might as well start today so the men can begin getting used to it.”
“But what if Yevgeny doesn’t agree to the changes?”
Elena laughed again. “In a battle between those two, who do you think would come out on top? I would put my money on her.”
Anastasia felt a kinship begin to form. “If I had any, so would I.”
* * *
Laramie headed to her room and closed the door behind her. She released the tight grip she held on the towel wrapped around her body, then sat on the bed and stared at her hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking. Elena’s questions had reminded her why her presence in Godoroye was so important. She wasn’t here for herself. She was here for her family. She was here for Trey.
Everyone she loved was depending on her. She couldn’t afford to fail. If she kept butting heads with Yevgeny at every turn, she didn’t see how she could possibly succeed.
If she forced Duke to choose between them, there was no telling how that situation might turn out. If Duke sided with Yevgeny, she and Shorty could be on the first plane back to the States. If he chose to side with her, she might end up getting stuck with someone even harder to deal with than Yevgeny was turning out to be.
“The reasonable thing to do is work things out,” she said, thinking out loud, “but how am I supposed to do that if he refuses to meet me halfway?”
She sighed in frustration. She had dealt with difficult personalities before, but she had always managed to settle her differences with them. Yevgeny, however, didn’t seem willing to talk things out over a couple of cold beers at the local bar. Wherever that was.
“Maybe I should offer to split a bottle of vodka with him instead.”
Her stomach churned in protest at the memory of the last time she had drunk more vodka than she could handle. She didn’t want a repeat of that dreadful scene. If she wanted to win Yevgeny over, she couldn’t do it by puking her guts out in front of him.
She decided to take Anastasia’s advice. Anastasia had told her to flatter Yevgeny. To appeal to his ego. She had done a bit of that today. As distasteful as the tactic had been, it had served its purpose. He had agreed to grant her request to see the sales and inventory records. He had also promised to show her the accounting ledgers once she got the other files organized. His promise had sounded half-hearted, but she was determined to make him keep his word. If he didn’t, she would have to appeal to Duke. Going over his head was a surefire way to ruffle Yevgeny’s feathers even more, but he wasn’t leaving her much choice. She had a job to do, no matter who was standing in her way.
She placed her hands in her lap as the tremors slowly subsided. She hoped Yevgeny was simply being territorial or misogynistic. In time, those were obstacles she felt confident she would be able to overcome. If there was something else at play, that meant she had even bigger problems to deal with than the ones she had already uncovered.
“Like Mama always says, if it took God a week to create the world, I can’t expect to solve all of its problems in one day.”
Thinking of her mother made Laramie long to hear her voice. She reached for her cell phone. She had no idea what time it was in Wyoming because she was too stressed out to calculate the time difference. She dialed the number anyway. She could always leave a message if her mother didn’t pick up.
“Laramie?” Her mother’s voice sounded so close it brought tears to Laramie’s eyes. “I was hoping you would call. What time did you get in? How was your first day?”
Laramie didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. Not when she already had Trey to fret about. “It was an adventure.”
“I’ll bet. Have you met everyone? Do you think the hands will have any problems catching on?”
Laramie laughed as she remembered them pulling Shorty out of the mud pit. “I could be wrong, but they don’t seem like they’ll have any trouble picking things up.”
“That’s good to hear. I know how impatient you can get when you have to explain something to someone more than once. And that’s when both of you are speaking English.”
“I’m working on that. How’s Trey?”
Her mother sighed. “He has his good days and his bad days. That’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Is he being a good patient?”
“What do you think?”
“I think he’s probably chomping at the bit to get out of bed and back on a bull.”
“Yep. He’s already planning his comeback. He’s aiming to compete in the Cheyenne Frontier Days next year.”
The Cheyenne Frontier Days were part of an annual ten-day festival that took place each July. The showpiece of the event was the rodeo, which was held in a magnificent nineteen-thousand-seat outdoor stadium. For Trey to complete his comeback there would be like a fairy tale come true. If he tried to do it before his body was ready to take the pounding, though, the fairy tale could quickly become a nightmare.
“That’s a little over a year from now,” Laramie said. “Do you think the docs will clear him to compete by then?”
“Probably not, but you know your brother. He’s never been one to sit around wasting time when he could be risking his neck.”
“That sounds like Trey, all right. I’ll send some money home when I get paid in two weeks. I’ve got the direct deposit set up, and I can use my phone to log on and do the transfer.”
“We appreciate your generosity, but don’t try to send too much. Leave yourself something to live on. Like Thad said before you left, we’ll make a way somehow. We always do.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She longed for the day when her family wouldn’t have to budget so tightly, but that wasn’t likely to happen until Trey’s medical bills were paid. Whenever that was. She knew he would give what he could. He had promised to pay her back someday, but she wasn’t counting on seeing a complete return on her investment. No matter. She knew he would do the same for her if their positions were reversed.
“Tell Trey I’m sorry I’ll miss seeing him compete in Cheyenne next year, but I’ll be rooting for him.”
“The competition won’t be the only thing you’ll miss.” Her mother sounded sorrowful. “Three years’ worth of Fourth of Julys, Thanksgivings, and Christmases. Birthdays, too.”
“I know, Mama.” Laramie tried not to dwell on the unpleasant thought of spending holidays and special occasions away from her family. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time when I get back.”
“I’m counting on it. I’d best be going. I’ve got to get back to work and I’m sure you have things you need to do as well. You take care of yourself over there. Call me anytime you want to talk, okay? Day or night. I won’t mind missing out on a few hours’ sleep if it means I get to hear from you.”
“I’ll do that. I love you, Mama.”
“I love you, too, Laramie. Make sure Shorty behaves himself, hear?”
Laramie scoffed. “I’d have better luck teaching one of the cows to turn somersaults.”
“Don’t I know it. He’s a good man, though. I used to wish he’d meet a woman who could tame his wild ways, but I’m starting to give up hope.”
Laramie thought of all the playful banter Shorty and Elena had exchanged that afternoon. If Shorty played his cards right, the statuesque cook could prove to be his match in more ways than one.
“I wouldn’t give up hope just ye
t if I were you.”
“In that case, I’ll keep wishing for you to meet someone, too.”
Laramie’s heart sank at the realization that, while she was in Russia, her chances of embarking on a relationship were somewhere between slim and none. The risk was just too great.
“You know that’s not the way things work around here.”
“That’s not how things work in Wyoming sometimes either, but that never stopped you from looking. Just because you have to be careful with your heart doesn’t mean you should close it off completely, Laramie.”
If they had been having this conversation face-to-face, her mother would have laid a hand on her arm or her shoulder to ground her. Since they were thousands of miles apart, her mother used her voice to achieve the same result.
“You might have been hired to share your expertise about cattle ranching,” her mother said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t still teach you a thing or two about life in the meantime.”
The heavy burden Laramie was carrying lightened momentarily. Her shoulders rose in response.
“No, ma’am, I guess it doesn’t.”
Chapter Twelve
The dinner table was laden with so much food Anastasia was surprised it didn’t collapse under the weight. She stared at the steaming platters of beef stroganoff, meat-stuffed cabbage leaves, mashed potatoes, and blinis as Elena peered into the oven to check on the ptichye moloko cake she was making for dessert.
Elena pressed the batter with her finger, then closed the oven door and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel.
“Five more minutes. After the layers cool, I’ll top them with the frosting and drizzle on some chocolate glaze.”
Anastasia leaned against the sink and watched Elena hustle back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. “Do you cook like this every night?”
“I splurge on special occasions, but we typically eat only half this much.”
“What’s so special about tonight?”
Elena arched an eyebrow. “If Laramie follows through on her plan to ban alcohol, the men will need something to take its place. A full belly might do the trick. Fat and happy is much better than drunk and discontent, don’t you think?”
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