by Jennie Marts
“It was an honest mistake.” Ted stared at the ground, unable to meet Logan’s eyes.
“Ya know, that’s what you said last week when you failed to show up for work one day, and the week before when you showed up two hours late and smelled like a brewery. I told you then you had three strikes and you’d be out, and this is definitely a third strike. You have ten minutes to pack your crap and get off my property.”
The ranch hand’s sulking shoulders pulled back. “That’s bullshit. You can’t fire a guy right before Christmas. Besides, you need me.”
“I need a hand I can trust. Not a hand who spends more time drinking than working.”
“You’re not gonna find another hand to help you feed all these cattle this winter.”
“I’ll make do.”
Ted took a menacing step toward Logan, the heat of his anger almost palpable as it mixed with the stench of his alcohol-infused sweat. Fury flashed in his eyes as he curled his hands into fists.
Logan stood his ground, not even flinching as he stared evenly at the other man. “I don’t think you want to go there, hoss.”
The ranch hand held his gaze for another few seconds, then let his shoulders drop. “This isn’t over, Rivers. You’re gonna be sorry you canned me.” He turned and stormed out of the barn.
Yeah. That’s the second time I’ve heard that today. He was going to have work harder—and he’d be hungry and probably in sore need of a clean shirt—but Logan didn’t think he’d end up being too sorry he’d fired either of his employees today.
He spent some time calming the horse and checking on her leg before he sauntered out of the barn to wait for the ranch hand. A rustic bunkhouse next to the barn was where they usually housed one or two guys, depending on the season. It was decent-sized with a couple of small bedrooms, a modest kitchen, and a sofa sleeper in the living area. They hired a college kid to spend the summer on the ranch when they had more work but usually only kept one guy on through the winter. Ted was a local, which was probably why Logan and Ham had given the guy a few breaks, but Logan was tired of Ted’s crap and didn’t have time for any more of his screw-ups.
He’d screwed enough up on his own.
Logan glanced down at his watch. The guy hadn’t looked in the best shape, so Logan figured he could give him an extra five minutes. But he didn’t want to give him enough time to trash the place. He was just getting ready to go after him when the bunkhouse door slammed open and Ted stormed out, two full duffel bags clutched in his hands. He lurched toward his truck.
“Whoa there,” Logan said, approaching him in about the same manner he would a pissed-off rattler. “I can’t let you drive in your condition. I’ll give you a ride into town.”
“I don’t need your stupid ride. I’m fine.”
Logan took a step closer, putting himself between Ted and the door of the pickup.
“Get outta my way.” Ted dropped one of the duffel bags and tried to shove Logan to the side.
Logan stood his ground. He wasn’t one to pick fights, but he could certainly hold his own if it came to one. He’d been playing hockey with the kids on the next ranch since all of them could skate, and the sport had made him no stranger to confrontation and throwing punches.
He wasn’t looking for a fight with Ted, but he’d take the guy out if he had to because he sure as hell wasn’t letting him get into his truck after he’d been drinking. Logan knew all too well the effect a single drunk driver could have on an entire family.
One had killed his mom when he’d been a kid.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he told Ted, “but I’m not letting you get into that pickup.”
Ted shoved him again. “What makes you think you can stop me? You’re not my boss anymore.” He took a wild swing, clipping Logan on the side of the jaw. The punch didn’t have a lot of power behind it, but Ted was a strong guy and it still stung.
Taller by six inches, Logan grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up to get in his face. The guy reeked of booze and body odor, but Logan couldn’t give him an inch or he’d take a mile. Before he had a chance to answer or deck the guy, they were distracted by a small blue car zipping down the ranch’s driveway.
Logan dropped Ted’s shirt and took a step back as they both watched the car pull in, then park about ten feet away. Two women got out, and Logan’s heart slammed into his chest for the second time that day. He recognized the driver, but the other one took his breath away.
“Hey, Bryn,” he said, trying to tear his eyes from the dark-haired passenger who was leaning casually against the side of the car and gazing around the ranch. She wasn’t from around here—he could tell that much from looking at her. She wore sunglasses and a faded denim jacket, not warm enough for the winter weather of the Colorado mountains. Most of the women around these parts either wore down parkas or Carhartt coats. But it wasn’t just her clothes. Between the tight set of her jaw and the scuffed military boots she wore, she had a hard look about her, as though she’d come out swinging at anyone who even nudged her. He could have used her a minute ago with Ted.
“Hey, Logan.” The waitress nodded to the other man. “Ted. Everything all right out here?”
“Fine and dandy,” Logan said, rubbing his palm against his sore jaw. “Ted and I were just having a difference of opinion. But I think we’re on the same page now. We’ve decided he’s going to find another ranch to work for. Isn’t that right, Ted?”
The other man snarled in return but was too taken with checking out the dark-haired woman to put much stock in Logan’s comments.
Bryn raised an eyebrow as she walked toward Logan and gave him a warm hug. “Sounds like you’re having trouble getting along with everybody today. I heard you lost your latest housekeeping help too.”
“Wow. That gossip sure spread fast.”
“Kimmie came into the diner. Said your arrangement didn’t quite work out.”
“You could say that.” He wasn’t interested in rekindling any old flames with his high-school sweetheart, but he also didn’t want to fan any rumor-filled fires. Not that Bryn was much of a gossip. He’d known her since they were kids, and he trusted her. Still, he didn’t want to bad-mouth Kimberly. “Let’s just say we had irreconcilable differences.”
Bryn grinned. “Like you wanted your food served on a plate, and instead she chucked it in the sink?”
He shook his head. “So you heard all the dirty details?”
“Oh yeah. The entire diner heard she offered herself for lunch, and you rejected her. Which launched your actual lunch into the sink.”
Logan let out a sigh. Great. Just what he needed. He had enough messes he was dealing with—he didn’t need some stupid small-town drama added to the mix.
Bryn nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Which is why I brought you a replacement. One who can cook and clean. And she’s just looking for work—no drama.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the car. “Logan, this is Harper Evans.”
A replacement? He tried to imagine this woman in his kitchen, but his mind automatically went to her in that skimpy apron Kim had been wearing—and he wasn’t imagining her tossing his lunch in the sink, but him tossing her into his bed.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
He was suddenly conscious of the dust covering his boots and the grease stain on the side of his jeans where he’d wiped his hand after working on the tractor engine that morning. He wore a black felt cowboy hat, but wanted to take it off and smooth his hair.
Cut it out, Rivers, he chided himself. You’re just introducing yourself, not asking her to the prom.
“Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, suddenly feeling a little shy, but still wanting to touch her. Shy? What the hell was that about? He hadn’t worried about his dang hair or felt shy or nervous around a woman in years. Maybe because he wasn’t ever interested in starting things up w
ith one.
But this one. Hell, she had him wanting to both duck his head and drive his hands through that mess of curly dark hair as he explored her mouth and the curves that denim jacket did nothing to hide.
Which was crazy. And not like him at all. He hadn’t even met this woman, and he was already imagining her in his kitchen and in his bed. It’s not like he didn’t appreciate women. He did. Every once in a while. But nothing ever serious. His life had taught him to guard his heart in that department—that women didn’t stay, and giving one his heart only ended in having it broken. It was easier to keep things light, easy, no complications. And this woman had complicated written all over her. He didn’t want or need a woman muddling up his life right now—even one that looked this gorgeous.
“Good to meet you too.” She took a step toward him, her chin out, her shoulders back, and looked him square in the eyes as she took his hand—not in a flirty way, but in an all-business, take-no-prisoners way. Her boots looked authentic, and he wondered if she’d been in the military.
He held her hand a beat too long, captivated by her eyes. They were the same bright emerald green as the kitten’s, like exactly the same, right down to the flecks of gold. He’d never seen a woman with eyes that color, and he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Where you from?” He tried to sound casual, treat her as a boss would while interviewing a prospective employee. But his skin felt tight, and his blood was pumping hot through his veins. Pull it together, hoss. Just be cool.
“Kansas.”
“Been in town long?”
“Nope.”
She wasn’t needlessly chatty; he’d give her that. Still. He knew nothing about her. He couldn’t hire her just because she was pretty and didn’t talk his ear off. The job didn’t require conversation anyway. What he needed was someone who could put a meal on the table and run a vacuum. “Bryn says you can cook?”
She nodded, still holding his gaze. “And clean. And do laundry.”
He thought of the pile of clothes overflowing the hamper in his room. Apparently Kimberly had been more concerned with luring him into the bedroom than laundering the shirts piling up in there. “You know the job’s only temporary?”
She nodded again. “Works for me.”
She seemed perfect. And he really could use the help. But again, he didn’t know this woman from Adam. He glanced down at Bryn. “How do you two know each other?”
“From the diner.”
He lowered his voice, knowing the waitress and her heart for anything suffering. She was always bringing home wounded animals. “She another one of your strays, Bryn?”
The waitress shrugged, her lips curving into a grin. “Maybe. But she seems like good people, has a kind heart, and I think she deserves a chance.” She smiled at Harper, who seemed to wince at the waitress’s warm words.
Logan narrowed his eyes as if assessing her, which was really all for show since he knew he wanted her to stay. He wanted to talk to her, to get to know this mysterious woman. “Well, I’ve already sacked two people today, and I don’t have it in me to let down another.”
Bryn’s smile grew. “So she can stay?”
“She can stay.”
“Yay.” She clapped her hands and turned to Harper. “You can stay.”
A wry grin crossed the other woman’s face. “Yes. I heard.” She flattened her expression, rearranging her lips from smiling to solemn as she looked up at Logan. “Thank you. I appreciate the chance.”
His shoulders dropped. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted that smile turned on him—to feel the heat of it like the sun shining on his face. He swallowed, trying to stay on track. “When can you start?”
She shrugged. “How about now? It sounds like you didn’t get much of a lunch.” An impish grin pulled at the corners of her lips.
So she did have a sense of humor. Or at least a bit of a sarcastic streak. That was good. He put his hand over his gut as his stomach growled in response. “Now would be fine. I’ll take you up to the house.”
Bryn held up a fist to Harper, and they shared a smile as if they had some kind of inside joke. “Thanks, Logan,” Bryn told him, then opened her car door.
“No problem. But can you do me a favor in return?” He angled his head toward Ted. “Can you take this guy back to town with you? He’s been drinking, and I won’t let him drive.”
“Sure.” She turned to Ted. “Toss your stuff in the back.”
“I’ll get your truck dropped off at your folks’ house tomorrow,” Logan told him.
“Whatever.” Ted dumped his bags into the back of the car, then slumped into the front seat and slammed the door.
“Thanks, Bryn.” He hoped he’d thank her later, hoped this worked out. He didn’t have it in him to deal with another failed housekeeper.
“See you all later,” Bryn said before getting in the car and speeding away, leaving Logan alone with the dark-haired stranger. A stranger he hoped knew how to fry an egg or cook up a mess of bacon. Heck, he was so hungry, he’d probably eat shoe leather if it was dipped in BBQ sauce.
He motioned to the house. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”
Harper hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and crossed the driveway. He tried not to watch the way her hips swayed as she walked up the porch steps, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Cut it out. This is just business.
He’d made too many decisions and poor choices lately based on emotion or hasty assessments—including one that might cost him everything. After that stupid mistake, he’d vowed to slow down and think through his options, but he’d just done it again. He’d hired a woman he knew nothing about, with nothing to go on beyond the advice of a friend and the similarities her eyes had to those of his favorite cat.
He’d executed some idiot moves lately; he just hoped he hadn’t made another one.
Chapter 3
As she walked up the porch steps, Harper didn’t know if she’d just had a colossal stroke of luck or just landed herself in another gigantic pile of steaming poo. She didn’t know any of these people, didn’t normally trust folks much further than she could throw them, yet in the space of thirty minutes, she’d jumped in a car with a perky waitress and accepted a job keeping house for a hunky cowboy.
Bryn hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said Logan was hot. The man was sex on a stick—tall and lean, with muscled arms and eyes so blue that a girl could get lost in them and not find her way out for days. A girl, but not this girl. No way. She needed this job, and the one thing Bryn had made very clear was that the best way to keep it was through this man’s stomach, not his pants.
It didn’t matter that his chestnut-brown hair was a little too long—just the way she liked it—or that the way a lock of it fell across his forehead made her want to reach up and brush it back. It didn’t matter that his smile had warmed her insides in a way that no man had since Michael. She wasn’t here to mix it up with a cute cowboy—she was here to do a job, earn some money, and get her son back. She needed to stay focused on her objectives.
“Welcome to Rivers Gulch,” Logan said as he opened the front door.
Harper took a step inside and gasped.
Logan let out a sigh as he looked around the room. “Yep.”
The house was a ranch style, with an open living room and kitchen. A long hallway on the right led to what Harper assumed were the bedrooms. A huge fireplace took up most of one wall in the living room, and large, comfortable furniture surrounded a heavy, square coffee table. The open area was decorated in farmhouse style in shades of blue and white, with weathered gray wood accents. A long butcher-block counter separated the two rooms, and the kitchen seemed to be a mix of modern and antique, with one edge of the counter holding a gleaming KitchenAid mixer next to a vintage cake stand and an old crockery jar stuffed with utensils.
The living area was covered with thick, gray carpet but gave way to dark wooden floors in the kitchen, and a heavy oak table surrounded by chairs filled the back corner of the room. The design of the house was all about function, but Harper could see a woman’s touch in the white antique pitcher filled with dried ruby-red roses and the wooden sign above the sink that read “Bless this home with love and laughter.”
It was a good house, and Harper imagined there was a lot of love and laughter in these walls. It spoke of home. Or she assumed it normally did. Right now, it spoke of one pissed-off woman.
A giant glob of meat loaf and mashed potatoes had congealed in the kitchen sink, and biscuits lay scattered around the room as though they’d been fired from a cannon. A broken egg leaked off the edge of the counter, its shell clinging to the side of the cabinet where the rest of the yolk had dripped to the floor. A broom lay in the middle of the room, and some kind of dark, gooey substance was spread across the top of the counter. Harper could only assume it was the gravy meant for the mound of potatoes. And that was just the kitchen.
The living room was a mess as well. It looked as if it had been torn apart and then someone had forgotten to put it back together again. Between the piles of laundry and the downed curtains, it was a war zone of chaos, with the vacuum standing sentinel amid the destruction.
Harper gazed up at Logan as she planted a hand on her hip. “Either you seriously pissed that woman off, or you really are in dire need of a housekeeper.”
He shook his head. “‘Hell hath no fury…’”
“Like a scorned, horny housekeeper?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Something like that.”
She couldn’t believe he was laughing. She wasn’t known for throwing tantrums like this, but her mother certainly was. And if her mom had thrown this kind of fit, her dad would have lost his shit. She’d witnessed some serious knock-down, drag-out fights between her parents, but she’d never seen her dad good-naturedly laugh off one of her mom’s stunts. Granted, her mom’s exploits usually ended with court fines or jail time, but still. “You’re being awfully calm about this,” she told him.
