by Joann Baker
BY THE NUMBERS BRIDE: CALHOUN
Matchmaking a Marriage
Copyright 2016 by
Joann Baker and Patricia Mason
Blush Publishing
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
Calhoun Anderson kept his feelings in check and his emotions under control. The sudden and tragic death of his parents had hit him and his siblings in different ways. Ry, his younger brother, sought love with a variety of women while Gabe, his elder brother, found solace in women-even married ones-liquor and hard living. So he'd had to be the levelheaded one. He'd thought he was handling everything well until his grandfathers hired a CPA to help with the ranch books. From the first look, he knew his even-keeled world was about to turn upside down.
Kristen Thomas left home to escape an emotionally turbulent relationship with her mother and an ex-fiancé who had jilted her at the altar. Hoping to make a fresh start, she went to work for her uncle in his accounting office in the quaint town of Devil's Spur. How could she have known that one sexy cowboy had her number?
PROLOGUE
“Earth to Harvey. You in or out?”
“Is he having a stroke?” Otis peered over the top of his glasses.
“No, I’m not having a stroke, you darn fool.” Harvey flipped a dollar into the pot and straightened the cards in his hand. “I’ve just got something on my mind, is all?”
“Like what?” Doc asked, anteing up and raising another fifty cents.
“Call,” Otis replied, dropping two quarters onto the pile of ones in the center of the table. “You sick or something?”
“In the head,” Silas scoffed, staring at his best friend over the table.
“It’s not sick to want to see your grandchildren married and happy.”
Silas snorted, dropping two cards onto the discarded pile. “You’re plumb crazy if you think we can do for Cal what we did for Ryder. Out of the three of our grandkids, he’s the most serious. No way in hell he’ll fall for any shenanigans to try and set him up with a woman.”
“He will if we find the right woman,” Harvey insisted stubbornly.
Otis munched on a pretzel. “Why Cal and not Gabe?”
Doc laughed loudly. “Can’t see Gabe being tied down. Ryder likes women, but Gabe is in a whole other league. Even I couldn’t keep up with the hearts he’s broken.”
It was true. Gabriel enjoyed dalliances with women, but he never cared when he walked away when he was done with the relationship, unlike Ryder who had always remained on good terms with his exes. Also unlike Ryder, Gabe didn’t care whether the lady in question was already in a relationship or not. If she was willing, so was he.
“Cause despite what Silas thinks, Cal won’t be half as hard a nut to crack as Gabe.”
“So now you’re saying you want to fix Gabe up too?” Otis couldn’t believe his ears.
“Don’t you want to see our boys happy?” Harvey leveled a ‘gotcha look’ at Silas.
“You know danged well I do, but I’m telling you, Cal is too smart to fall for any fix-ups and Gabe just out and out won’t have it.”
“While you all are trying to figure out the loves lives of the rich and famous, tell me how many cards you need.” Doc held up the deck.
“Two,” Silas called, directing his look to Harvey. “You got a plan?”
Harvey looked slightly uncomfortable. “No. Not yet.” He raised his chin, signaling for one card. “But I am not giving up.” He took the card Doc dealt. “Do you know what he’s doing this evening? On a Saturday night, no less?”
“What?” Otis asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
“The ranch books,” Silas inserted before Harvey could reply.
“Oh.”
Doc laughed at Otis’ crestfallen expression. “Hoping for something juicy were you, numbers man?”
“Shut up, you old goat,” Otis muttered, red-faced. “I just thought a good story might take my mind off my own problems.”
“Full house aces over queens.” Silas laid his cards on the table, already reaching for the pot. “Ain’t nobody gonna beat that.”
“Damn,” Doc groused, throwing in his hand along with Harvey and Otis. “You still bitching about not finding a woman?” He handed the deck to Silas. “Your deal.”
“No. My problem now is a woman.”
“What?” Silas stopped in mid-deal.
“You’re kidding.” Harvey leaned forward, leaving his cards on the table.
Doc snickered. “I told you Prudence was sweet on you.”
“It’s not Prudence, you old snot. Although she’s not as bad as I thought. My problem is my niece, Kristen.”
“Your sister, Ivy’s kid?” Doc’s bushy brows drew together. “Last time I saw her, she was headed off to Brown-Mackie in San Antonio.”
“That was Christmas, six years ago, you old fart. You know my sister always thought she was too good for small town living. Anyway, her husband, Elm died about a year ago and they’ve been having some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Silas asked, studying his cards.
“Money trouble. What other kind of trouble is there?”
“Woman trouble.”
Otis threw his find a nasty look. “Anyway, I offered Kristen a job.”
“And now you’re regretting it?” Harvey asked.
“No, not really. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Silas picked up a dollar and debated whether to fold or ante up and see how the hand played.
“She’s taking over my office.” Otis whined, plopping his cards in a heap on the table,
“What the devil are you talking about, you old goat?” Doc stroked his pudgy jowl as he waited for an answer.
“I tell you, she’s rearranged everything. In one day. She gets here and, BAM, she takes over and changes everything. My files, my phone system. Even the furniture.”
“Did you ever think that she’s trying to help you, you old skinflint?” Silas leaned back, amused by his friend’s theatrical tirade.
“Help me?” Otis shuddered. “If I can’t find a tangled up account for her to work on soon, she’s going to start messing around with my computer system.” He picked up his cards. “And you know how long it took me to learn this one.”
“Don’t you think you’re being overly dramatic? I bet she’s—”
“What does she look like?” Harvey interjected, cutting Silas off in mid-sentence.
“Well, she’s tall like her dad, redheaded and freckled like Ivy.” He shook his head. “Pretty girl, but Lord she’s a firecracker. When that girl sets her mind to something, she’s a force of nature. Just won’t take no for an answer.”
“Hmm,” Harvey tapped his cards on the table. “What do you think, Silas?”
Silas scratched his chin, mulling over the question. Tilting his head, he grinned. “Might damned well work.”
Doc sighed. “Poor Cal.”
Otis shook his head. “I’ll see that emotion and raise you another.”
> CHAPTER ONE
“WHO THE HELL are you?”
Kristen Thomas looked up from the account ledger she’d been painstakingly entering into the computer to see six foot plus of mouthwatering cowboy standing in the doorway. At six-three, he had the wide shoulders and slim hips of every cowboy she’d ever seen on the big screen. Damn, she thought, reverting to the unladylike language of her former college roommate, the man was hawt. At five-seven herself, it wasn’t often that Kristen was impressed with a man’s height. She didn’t like the feeling.
The scowl he wore only added to his imposing presence. Not conventionally handsome, he nevertheless drew her eyes like a moth to a flame. Already frustrated with the ancient program she’d been forced to work with, his angry greeting only irritated her further.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped back, meeting his glare head on and managing with all the skill she’d learned over the years to keep her expression defiant as she got her first good look at his piercing brown eyes.
Growing up in Dallas and then going to college in San Antonio, she’d seen her fair share of concrete cowboy. Those city-bred men who liked to wear pressed jeans and big hats and pretend they could go eight seconds on an ornery bull or a bucking bronc. She had no doubt that the hardened man in front of her could go… all night long.
She held his stare, shushing the tiny voice that, like her urgently awakened libido, seemed to come out of nowhere to blindside her just when she needed her wits most. His mobile mouth was creased into a thin line, his chiseled jaw appeared carved out of granite and the look in his incredibly dark, sexy eyes was decidedly unfriendly. It was hard to hold his steady gaze, not only because he was more than a little intimidating and she was alone in the ranch office, but also because the green western-cut shirt he wore was unbuttoned just enough to show a nice bit of his broad chest. It was hell trying to keep her eyes from straying to find out if he was smooth or hairy.
In spite of his gruff demeanor and aloof stance—or maybe because of it—the man had sex appeal written all over him. Just walking down the street in Dallas, he’d have the eye of every woman he passed. Especially if he had the swagger to go with that build and steely-eyed cowboy glare.
His scowl darkened. He left his post by the door and came toward her. Yep, there was that swagger. Kristen’s pulse skyrocketed, and she had to physically force herself to maintain eye contact as he placed his hands on the desk, leaning over her.
“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t know how you got in here or what you’re playing at, but it ain’t gonna work. Unfortunately for you, Gabe probably doesn’t even remember your name.”
Liar, Cal Anderson’s inner voice whispered. Not even a man-whore like his older brother was likely to forget the woman who sat at his desk. With thick corkscrew curls of burnished copper highlighting wide blue eyes flecked with gold, a pink bow-shaped mouth that made a man think of long, drugging kisses and a set of lush breasts that strained the buttons on the prim white blouse she wore, she’d created instant hell on his usual iron control.
The thought that Gabe had dated her then tossed her aside left a bad taste in his mouth. Something about this woman told him that she wasn’t the kind who liked being used. His brow furrowed. Maybe that was why she was here. Not to beg Gabe to take her back, but to give him a piece of her mind. He’d pay for a front row seat to see that after the morning he’d had.
He’d come in to cool off after firing one the hands for mistreating a horse. He’d barely restrained himself from giving the cocky cowboy some of the same licks he’d given the poor animal. He hated dealing with that side of the ranch, but since Gabe had decided he wanted to play the field more than he wanted to run the Ace in the Hole, Cal had found himself in charge of the hands more and more frequently.
“Who’s Gabe and why do I care if he knows my name?” Tired of looking up at him no matter how damned sexy he was, Kristen stood, mimicking his stance. Unfortunately, that brought her almost nose to nose with the handsome cowboy. Up close, she could smell the earthy odors of hay and clean sweat, mixed with a scent that belonged uniquely to this man. One that made her knees decidedly weak. “I don’t even know your name.”
“And I don’t know yours. Since you’re in my home, I think you should go first.”
In spite of his hateful attitude, Kristen felt herself melting into the dark chocolate eyes so close to hers. Long lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones. A muscle ticked at the corner of his mobile mouth. Her womanly parts fluttered in appreciation of his male beauty. “I’m—”
“Oh good, you two have met.”
Calhoun straightened and turned to face his grandfather. “Something you want to tell me, Pops?”
Harvey bit back a smile at his grandson’s quiet snarl. The look on his face spoke volumes, but it also revealed real emotion. It had been so long since Harvey had seen anything but resignation in his middle grandchild’s eyes that he’d begun to worry. As had Silas, his other grandfather and Harvey’s partner in matchmaking. Hence their scheme to bring Cal and the lovely redheaded accountant together. The plan was a longshot, but if Cal could only learn to live a little, the whole thing would be worth it.
If he had dreams or goals other than getting up every morning, running the ranch and, most often, playing referee between his younger brother, Ryder, and his older brother, Gabe, Harvey had yet to hear them expressed. He’d expected things to change somewhat since Ryder’s marriage, but Cal had barely paid attention to the adjustment in Ryder’s schedule. The fact that he came later in the morning to work the horses and left earlier in the afternoon hadn’t appeared to affect Cal—at least on the outside. Only Harvey and Silas had seen the extra work that the shortened hours had added to Cal’s already lengthy days. Cal, as usual, had shouldered the added work without complaint, accepting it as his lot.
It had been young Cal who had shouldered the burdens of his siblings when their parents had passed away in a tragic car accident. He’d taken on the brunt of the responsibility for the ranch and to keep life going forward on as even a keel as possible for all of them.
“This lovely lady is Otis’ niece and she’d not only beautiful,’ he winked at the still belligerent redhead, “but she’s also one heck of a bookkeeper.”
“Accountant.”
Crap, Kristen thought as the cowboy’s dark head swung toward her once more. Why did she feel compelled to correct the old-fashioned word? It meant the same thing, except accountant sounded more…prestigious. She lifted her chin. There was nothing wrong with being proud of the hard work she’d put in to earn her degree, despite her mother’s disapproval. Her father, on the other hand, had always appreciated her intelligence. Numbers and math were two things she’d always been very good at and she’d planned on following in her father’s footsteps becoming a financial advisor, but her mother hadn’t approved. She’d wanted Kristen to snag a rich husband like she had. So the years after college had been filled with social gathering and charity work. Which was how she’d wound up with Roger. She shuddered just thinking of that fiasco. She’d naively thought she could have it all. A marriage, children, a career. But that would have taken a loving partner.
“Accountant,” Harvey repeated obediently without as much as a blink. “She’s agreed to help you, er, us, with the accounts.”
Cal stiffened, his already rigid expression hardening even further. “The books are fine, Pops.”
An indelicate snort came from the opposite side of the desk, and Pops spoke up quickly. “You’re doing it all, Cal. And getting a little help is not a bad thing.”
Cal drew in a deep breath, tamping down his irritation. He looked at the desk where payroll ledgers, account logs, equine registers, receipts, and bank statements vied for space.
The woman grunted this time, and Cal swung his gaze to her, ignoring the zing that went through his body as their eyes met. “Something you want to say, sweetheart?” He knew instinctively the causal endearment would grate on her nerves.
Kristin straightened to her full height but the big cowboy still towered over her by several inches. Dammit, he was so big and broad that he made her feel decidedly petite and very much aware of her femininity. She tossed her auburn curls and lifted her chin. She’d had enough overbearing men to last her a lifetime, from overzealous professors to her ex-fiancé.
“Yes, I do. Thank you so much for allowing me to speak.” He stiffened at her caustic tone and Kristin continued, a sarcastic smile curving her lips. “First of all, your books are a mess and your accounting system antiquated. It will take me—or another accountant of your choice—at least a month to get everything in order.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak, oddly delighted at the flare in his chocolate eyes. “And my name is Kristen, not sweetheart or honey or doll face or any other blandishment you men so casually throw out. Understand, cowboy?”
Oh, he understood, Cal thought. He understood the woman before him had awakened something inside him that he was afraid he’d never be able to hold back again. She was more beautiful than the sunset he’d seen the last time he’d ridden up to the Mesa, right before Ryder and Georgia had gotten together. When they’d been courting—if you could call the small amount of time Ryder had actually dated Georgie before he snatched her up, courting—Cal had felt like an outsider once again.
Maybe it was the middle child syndrome he’d read about in his psych classes at college, or maybe it was the fact that he was different from his brothers. He’d been what one might call a momma’s boy, spending more time with her than he had with his father. His brothers had taken to ranch work like a tick on a dog, but Cal had always needed another outlet. He’d always thought keeping the books and making sure the ranch operated in the black were the best ways to contribute and keep himself sane doing something other than riding fence or walking a horse around the ring on a long rope.
Oh, he loved the outside aspect of ranch work and couldn’t imagine being locked in a room eight hours a day doing the books—even though that’s apparently what he needed to do according to the spitfire accountant. No, he did the paperwork when he could. And maybe lately, he thought with an inward grimace, he hadn’t been doing it as well as he should have been. But hell would freeze over before he admitted that.
