What The Rancher Wants... (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Monroe, Lucy

  Letting out a high-pitched curse that ended on a big oof, he doubled over.

  She drew herself to her full five-feet-four-inch height. “I am not anyone’s babe, least of all yours. Do I make myself clear?”

  He lifted his head, his arms still curved protectively around his midsection. “Yeah.”

  She nodded. Good. “Though I may not be old enough to be your mother, I’m certainly too old to be your anything else. I can’t even be your friend because I don’t offer that kind of trust to idiots who don’t know any better than to make a pass at a co-worker on their boss’s time.”

  He glared at her, but he didn’t argue.

  “I work for the same man you do and I expect the same respect that you give any of the other hands. Is that understood?”

  He finally stood up straight, but his breathing was still a little shallow. “Understood, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  She let that slide. A man needed some pride, after all.

  She had only one final thing to say to him. “As far as how I’m built having anything to do with my ability to have fun, I’m here to tell you that I’ve got all the same parts that other women do. Fun, especially the kind you appear to want, is a state of mind, not body. How I look has nothing to do with it, unless we’re talking how my brain works and then maybe you’d have a clue.”

  Lonny nodded and sidled out of the kitchen without further comment.

  Win came in the door as Lonny was leaving. “You forget what I told you to do this morning?”

  Lonny shook his head. “Just needed to talk to Carlene about something.”

  Win looked at Carlene and then back at Lonny. “Anything I need to know about?”

  Lonny’s cheeks, which had taken on a slight pallor, turned red. “No, boss. Nothing important.”

  Win looked at Carlene. “That true?”

  Carlene nodded. “It definitely wasn’t anything important.”

  It appeared as if Win wanted to ask more questions, but Lonny was already headed toward the stables. Win stepped completely into the kitchen.

  “I’m going into town to pick up some things. Do you want to come along and get groceries?”

  She took longer to consider his question than she was sure he expected. She did need groceries. Rosa, the previous housekeeper, had left some things well stocked and some nearly empty. The problem was going to town with Win. She avoided him and the intensity she experienced whenever he was around as much as possible. And after her little dust-up with Lonny, she did not want any more challenges from the male of the species.

  He raised a mocking brow. “I didn’t realize it would be such a difficult question.”

  She frowned. Why did she get the feeling that he knew exactly why she hesitated? Inexplicably, the thought stung her pride. “That would be fine, Win. Just let me get my purse.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t need it. I’ll buy the groceries.”

  “Don’t you know that a woman feels naked without her purse?” she asked.

  His eyes took on a distinctly disturbing quality and she tensed in preparation for some ribald comment, but none came. He merely said, “My sister’s mentioned that a time or two.”

  He led her out to the car and she said, “I didn’t realize that you had a sister. Does she live around here?”

  Maybe Carlene had met her.

  “No. She and her husband live in Portland.”

  Carlene settled into the passenger seat of Win’s midnight-blue Ram pickup and buckled her seat belt. “Oh. What’s her name?”

  If he thought she was nosy, he didn’t say so. He started the truck and headed toward the highway. “Leah Branson. Her husband runs Branson Consulting out of Portland. Maybe you’ve heard of it. They get their names in the paper from time to time.”

  Carlene searched her memory, but couldn’t remember ever reading about the consulting firm. “No. Sorry.”

  “I guess you aren’t real interested in the financial section of the paper?”

  She bristled at his condescending tone. “As a matter of fact, no. I like to read human interest stories, not dry articles on the state of the economy.”

  She also liked to read popular fiction. She’d been teased at college because of her taste in reading material, but she refused to conform to someone else’s idea of what a French Literature major should want to read.

  She realized she was taking easy offense again and sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get defensive.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, honey.”

  Now why didn’t Win calling her honey bother her a bit when Lonny calling her babe was like nails scoring a chalkboard?

  “You didn’t. Not really. But just because I’m not interested in the financial section of the paper doesn’t mean I’m a bimbo.”

  He took his gaze off the road for a few seconds to meet hers. “Does that happen often?”

  “What?”

  “People think you’re a bimbo.”

  “Because I don’t read the stock reports?”

  “Because of how you look.”

  The man saw too much.

  “People assume a lot of things about me based on the way I look.” She joked, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not blonde. I’d have a whole slew of assumptions made about my intelligence based on the color of my hair.”

  Win frowned. “Is that why you left Texas? Were too many people judging you based on your looks?”

  His insight startled her and she didn’t answer immediately. How much did she want to say? “You could say that,” she hedged.

  “I’d rather hear what you have to say about it.”

  “I don’t like revisiting my past.”

  “Okay.”

  His easy agreement should have set her mind at rest, but she had the distinct impression that he was just biding his time. She was almost certain the subject wasn’t closed as far as Win Garrison was concerned.

  Looking for something besides herself to discuss, she said, “Tell me more about your sister.”

  His expression softened. “She’s five years younger than me. She and Mark have got a couple of real cute kids.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  His fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I don’t know where our dads are. Mom moved after each divorce and we lost touch. Neither of them were big on visitation rights.”

  “And your mom?” she asked.

  “She died in a plane crash twelve years ago.”

  “Who raised your sister?”

  “I did.” He spoke with no inflection in his voice.

  “That must have been really hard, taking on the responsibility to raise a teenage sister and losing your mom at the same time.”

  “Raising Leah was nothing new. Mom was too busy getting married and divorced to pay much attention to either of us. Leah was my responsibility from the day Mom brought her home from the hospital.” He smiled ruefully. “I still get tied up in knots every time she cries.”

  His admission touched something deep inside Carlene. It was so far from something she would have expected him to say. “Divorce is incredibly traumatic for children. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to go through two of them.”

  “Four.”

  She stared at his profile. “Your mom was married four times?”

  “Five. She was divorced four times. I guess modern pop psychologists would say she had a problem with commitment.”

  “What happened to her fifth husband?” Carlene knew she was being unforgivably inquisitive, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Hank Garrison died in the plane crash with my mom.”

  “You use your stepfather’s name. Did he adopt you?”

  Win gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “Nothing so formal. Every time Mom remarried, she insisted Leah and I take her husband’s name. I had more last names growing up than pets.”

  “But you stuck with Garrison.”

  “Yeah.” His terse a
nswer didn’t invite further comment.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  He spared her a brief, cold glance as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the grocery store. “Save your pity. I survived.”

  She yanked her hand back, feeling chastised. She’d reserve her sympathy for someone who needed it, someone who had a little softness left in him. She just wished her heart didn’t constrict every time she thought of Win’s childhood. At least she understood the aversion to marriage he’d expressed at their first meeting. The man had a reason for distrusting the institution.

  Win watched Carlene walk across the grocery store parking lot and couldn’t help admiring the sway of her hips in her snug-fitting denim jeans. She looked back when she reached the front door, and waved him on impatiently. He sighed and obeyed her imperious little wave.

  Pulling onto the main road, he mulled over the conversation they’d had in the car.

  He didn’t like talking about his mother, but he’d hoped that if he opened up to Carlene a little about his past, she’d be willing to do the same with hers. His was an open book anyway. Anything she wanted to know she could find out from one of Sunshine Spring’s long time residents.

  He took her curiosity as a good sign. Women wanted to know about the men they were interested in. Carlene was definitely interested in him, but she’d given a lot of mixed signals. Something was holding her back.

  He had a feeling that something had happened to Carlene in Texas that left her skittish as an untried filly. He figured it was his job to help her get over her past and move on. Because he wanted her warm and willing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE next morning, Win came into the kitchen to ask Carlene a question and stopped dead in his tracks. She was bent over pulling something out of one of the low cupboards. She had the sweetest little behind he’d seen in a very long time. Hell, maybe ever. And it was positioned up in the air in a position guaranteed to turn him hard as a rock.

  He took a minute just to appreciate the view.

  Her jeans weren’t exactly tight but they couldn’t hide the sweet curve of her cheeks. He’d noticed she liked to wear her clothes loose and wondered why. Not that he minded. He didn’t want the hands getting any randy ideas and he had a suspicion that Lonny already had. So far, though, the boy had done nothing overt. He just watched Carlene with hungry, hot eyes and Win didn’t like it.

  Along with his own randy thoughts toward the sexy little lady, Win had developed a whole passel full of possessive feelings. The only other woman he felt this protective toward was his sister, Leah, but he damn sure didn’t want to see her naked. Now, Carlene was another story. He figured once he got her into his bed, he wasn’t going to let her out for a good long while.

  Thinking about what he planned to spend that time doing sent his temperature spiking. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fantasize himself right into a state of unrequited lust and, as much as he wanted Carlene, he had a horse ranch and training stables to run.

  “You find what you’re looking for yet?” he asked by way of saying hello.

  A muffled scream came from inside the cupboard and she jumped. Her head must have hit something because he heard a loud thump followed by a groan. Shimmying backward, she got herself out of the cupboard and turned to face him.

  Her glare was as hot as his loins. “You startled me.” She made it sound as if she’d just accused him of horse stealing.

  “You didn’t hear me come in?” he asked, knowing good and well she hadn’t.

  She never would have remained in such a tantalizing position otherwise. When it came to desire, Carlene acted like an untried filly. He’d seen her looking at him with something hot in her pretty brown eyes and that gave him hope, but she didn’t flirt or encourage him in any other way. She was like a mare going into heat, not sure she wanted to be covered by the stallion and playing hard to get.

  He’d let her dance around the corral some, but eventually he was going to corner her.

  She rubbed her head, the action pressing her generous breasts against the big white apron she wore from the moment she arrived until she went home in the afternoon. “No. I didn’t hear you. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did.” Just not right away.

  She ignored that. “Those cabinets aren’t very convenient. It’s almost impossible to reach the back without climbing right in.”

  He shrugged. “I can reach them just fine.”

  She went all squinty-eyed. “Well, I can’t and I’m the housekeeper. Unless you want to do the cooking, you’d better find some way to make the pots and pans stored down there more accessible.”

  He thought about it. “Maybe I could have a pull-out shelf installed by one of the ranch hands. Would that work?”

  She looked nonplussed by his easy acquiescence. “Yes. That would be fine. Terrific, in fact.” Then her eyes took on a wary cast. “Not Lonny.”

  He narrowed his own eyes, trying to read the expression on her face. “Has he said something to you? Made you uncomfortable?”

  She turned and picked up the big stew pot she’d been after. “I’d just rather not have him underfoot. I like Shorty. Can he build the shelf?”

  She set the stew pot in the sink and turned on the water.

  Win didn’t like dropping the subject of Lonny, but he had the impression that Carlene had said all she wanted to. Maybe she’d noticed the way Lonny looked at her too and was embarrassed by it.

  With her looks, you might think she was used to that sort of male attention, but Win got the impression that she didn’t like it. “Shorty’s handy, but I need him in the stables right now. Call a carpenter to install the pull-out.”

  Turning off the water, she looked at him over her shoulder, a smile of gratitude playing on her lips. “Are you sure?”

  “Honey, you can’t be wondering if I can afford it.” Hell, most women were only too happy to spend his money.

  She laughed. “No, more wondering if you thought it was worth it. I’m glad you do. I’ll call the carpenter tomorrow. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She went to lift the cast-iron pot and water sloshed over the side. “I forgot how heavy these things are.”

  He sidled up behind her and put his arms around her. Taking a firm grip on the handle, he lifted it. “You want it on the stove?”

  She stood still, like a rabbit caught in a snare. “Yes, please.”

  Her voice came out all breathy and soft. He wanted to lean down and kiss the creamy skin of her neck and see what that did to her voice, but he controlled himself. A mare couldn’t be broken to bit if the handler startled her early on with demands she wasn’t prepared to meet.

  He stepped back, using one hand to carry the pot. He set it on the stove for her.

  She turned to face him, the skin of her cheeks a rosy hue. He liked this additional evidence that his nearness had an effect on her. Standing so close to her had a pretty strong impact on him too. He’d be walking like a saddle-sore greenhorn, if he weren’t careful. His usually comfortable jeans felt tight enough to do damage right now.

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, honey.”

  She busied herself putting the stew together and he just watched. He liked the way she moved, her actions fluid and graceful. When she opened the fridge to pull out the meat, she squatted rather than bending over to get it. Amusement at the action tugged at him. If she thought the view of her thighs pressed against blue denim was any less exciting than her backside, she had a lot to learn about men.

  She straightened and put the meat on the cutting block. “What?”

  “Something the matter, honey?”

  She took in a deep breath and blew it out with her eyes shut, then she opened them. “What are you doing in here? I don’t think you want cooking lessons, so why are you hanging around watching me prepare dinner when you’ve got a stable to return to?”

  Her surly tone made him grin. “Yo
u’re bossy, aren’t you?”

  He could just about hear her teeth grinding together. “You’re the one that told me you want to work uninterrupted—not have to deal with anything domestic. You must have come up to the house for a reason.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it?” She looked as if she’d like to wrap her fingers around his neck, but not with the intention of doing anything nice.

  Why had he come up to the house? Oh, yeah. “I was wondering if you could put together a couple of casseroles for the weekend. Rosa used to do it and it helped me out a heap.”

  She nodded. “That won’t be any problem.”

  “Good.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “Maybe I’ll put that shelf in for you myself, tomorrow.”

  “No, really…your idea of calling a carpenter is a good one.”

  “If you insist.”

  He left the kitchen with the look of consternation on her face fixed clearly in his mind. She noticed him all right. She hadn’t look horrified, just thrown for a loop and he figured that was a good sign.

  He’d break that filly to bridle, but first he had to get her used to having him around. Then he’d work on the touching.

  Just like a nervous mare and he had a real special touch with nervous fillies, just ask anyone.

  Carlene was ready to quit her job as Win’s housekeeper two weeks later. Between Lonny’s glares and Win’s bedroom eyes, she was at her wit’s end.

  Win never implied that her job was even slightly reliant on her sleeping with him, but then again he made no bones about the fact that he wanted her in his bed. He hadn’t actually come out and said so, but he watched her with a hot gaze that made her insides melt. It didn’t help that he found more excuses than a student with spring fever did to skip class, to get close to her.

  Just yesterday he had insisted on helping her get a large ceramic bowl down from the top shelf in the pantry. That would have been fine except that he didn’t allow her to move out of the way before his strong, masculine body was stretching up and leaning over her to reach the bowl. Again, no problem.

  Except that the effect Win’s closeness had on her senses couldn’t be denied. She’d forgotten for one full minute what she’d been planning to do and just stood there, breathing in his scent. He’d noticed. Darn him. And he’d laughed. No doubt he thought she was like a plump peach, ripe and ready to be picked off the tree.