by West, Cary
“I don’t understand.” Kate looked at Clara then at Jack.
“That magnificent stallion as you call him has been busting into our local corrals and stealing our stock. If I ever get my hands on him, so help me God, I’ll shoot him dead!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped.
“I would in a heartbeat, Barbie doll,” he said like cold steel. “Maybe it’s time for me to start tracking him and put an end to this mess. Where did you see him?”
Kate shifted her chair back and put distance between her and this cowboy. “I wouldn’t tell you even if I did know,” she said angrily. “You want to kill him.”
“You’re damn right I want to kill him.” He matched her anger. “It’s the way of the west, and you best remember that girl.”
“You’re uncivilized and inhumane.” Kate thundered.
He stood and slammed his hands down on the table. “Don’t be giving me that Greenpeace bullshit. You city folk and your damn causes. May I remind you it was men like me who helped tame this wild land so you could sit back and drink your lattes and cappuccinos?”
Kate stood as well, slammed her hands on the table and shouted back. “You may have tamed this land, but who is going to tame you?”
They squared off standing nose to nose, anger seeping through their pores. Jack stared into her ocean blue eyes and a quickening formed in his gut. “You wanna try, baby?” A flicker of light danced in his eyes and he hoped she would accept the challenge. “I’d soften that sweet ass of yours.”
“You’re not my type,” she huffed and sat back down.
“So what is your type?” Jack returned to his seat. “Some California executive all uptight like you? Maybe you should try a real man between your legs for a change.”
“Jack,” Clara shouted and kicked him again. He ignored her.
“You’re disgusting.” Kate looked away not able to make eye contact.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a real man,” he laughed. “I know your type.”
“And what type is that?” Her eyes narrowed on him.
“Let’s see if I get it right,” Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his firm jaw. “Raised in an upper-middle class family, goes off to college and probably loses her virginity to some college boyfriend. Marries him, buys a house in the suburbs, two cars, maybe a dog. And by the time you reach thirty your little baby time clock is a ticking…” Tick, tick, tick, tick, his mouth clicked to the rhythmic sound of a clock. “You got your whole life planned out to the tiniest detail.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered, though she knew it was.
“So did you leave him, or did he leave you?” he asked smugly. Kate stared at him and just blinked as her eyes grew moist with hidden tears. “He left you, didn’t he, Barbie doll?” He laughed seeing the truth in her eyes. “You made so many plans he couldn’t fit into them so he left. Is that it?”
The realization that he was right left him with the sweet taste of victory. Top that Kate, he thought and inwardly awarded himself the winning point.
But Kate was no longer enjoying the game. Like an arrow hitting a bull’s eye, he struck her right where it hurt the most. She could no longer hold back the tears and they fell like large droplets upon her cheeks. Humiliation washed over her knowing it took him less than an hour to deduce who she was, reducing her to something pitiful and small.
“Excuse me.” She barely got the words out as she stood from her chair and ran out of the bar leaving a speechless and bewildered Jack in its wake.
Clara glared at Jack and slapped him across the back of his head. “You’re an ass Jack, did anybody ever tell you that?”
“What did I say?” He seemed confused by the whole female display.
“He left her, Jack. He left her for another woman.”
Jack finally understood and swallowed the bitter taste of his under-handed victory. Clara was right. He was an ass, and he felt terrible for being blind and insensitive toward the woman who did strange things to his insides. “Maybe I should go and talk to her,” he said as he stood from his chair.
“I think you’ve done enough damage for tonight.” Clara pushed him back into his seat. “I’ll go talk to Kate. You just stay away from her, yah hear?”
Clara left the table and exited the bar. She found Kate several feet away leaning against the exterior. “Kate honey, are you okay?” She placed her hand on her shoulder as a stream of tears cascaded down her friend’s cheeks. “Don’t let Jack get to you. He’s an arrogant asshole.”
“Yes, he is,” Kate sniffed. “But he’s right about me.”
“No, he’s not!”
“Oh, yes he is Clara,” Kate shook her head. “I had it all planned. Career, husband, three bedroom house-children-” Kate’s voice cracked. “Everything in a neat tiny package until he left me for-” Kate couldn’t get the words out as a sob escaped her lips. “Now here I am cleaning for some arrogant bastard in some godforsaken place. How did it all go so wrong?”
“How do you know it went all wrong?” Clara lifted Kate’s chin to look at her. “Maybe it went all right. What if this is the start of what your life is supposed to be?”
“Then I’m in hell,” she laughed through her tears.
“Oh Kate, it’s not so bad.” Clara gave a nurturing smile. “Give it a chance. You may find that you like it here after a while.”
“Not likely with that man lurking around.”
“You have to tell yourself it is only for a summer,” she reminded her. “Come this fall you’ll be teaching.”
“If I get the job.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the best teacher I know,” exclaimed Clara. “The job is practically yours.” Clara was trying her best to cheer her up. It was working. The tears dried and Kate wiped away the remaining with her hand. “You want to go back inside or do you want me to take you home?”
“I think I’d like to go home if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind,” smiled Clara. “I think we’re done for tonight.” With that Clara folded her arm in Kate’s and together they walked along the wooden planks of the main street and headed for the car.
Two
Dulcet Dreams
He’d dozed off into a blissful sleep dreaming of sweet parted lips, pretty blue eyes and kissing tiny freckles along the top of her nose and cheeks. She smelled like lavender and vanilla, and her skin was caressingly soft. So soft he couldn’t stop touching her. It was heady and sensual, losing himself in her soft moans and her sweet beckoning of him, only him.
Jack woke with a start, sitting up in bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark-filled room. Traces of the dream lingered in his belly making his stomach clench and his arousal strong. He laid back and closed his eyes absorbing the remaining essence of the dream, re-experiencing the lingering portions.
It was her, the woman he met last night at the bar. Kate, he whispered remembering her name. He felt intoxicated by his slumbering fantasy, almost hypnotized by its seduction. He wanted to fall back asleep and continue to dream of her, but it was too late, he was awake, though the memory lingered with him.
He visualized her soft blond hair caressing his cheek. Her body covered in his sweat. Her fleshy ripe breasts pressed in his hands and the sweet wetness between her thighs. It was a gift from the gods, dreaming about her; a goddess created by his subconscious. It had been a long time since he dreamed about a woman. He searched his mind, but he couldn’t remember ever dreaming so vividly about one particular female. They were all the same to him. No faces, just bodies; bodies made to satisfy one particular need.
He wasn’t about tomorrow mornings. He was for the night and the partaking of carnal pleasure. It wasn’t that he was hard or indifferent, he just never felt the need to make it permanent. He wasn’t knocking the whole relationship thing, though in truth he didn’t understand it. It was fine for other men, just not for him. Never for him.
Jack sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
He ran his hands through his sandy brown hair. He started to stand but a hand reached out and brushed his arm.
“Where are you going? A feminine purr whispered along the bed sheets.
“I gotta go,” he said and stood. Jack found his shirt and jeans crumbled on the floor and dressed.
“Do you really have to leave so soon? Stay the night with me and tomorrow I’ll make you breakfast.”
Jack didn’t answer. He sat back down on the bed and put on his boots. The woman slinked through the sheets, her naked body beckoning him to return. Once more Jack stood from the bed. He grabbed his Stetson and placed it on his head.
“It has been a pleasure my dear sweet Irene.” He grinned then leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
“Call me,” she said as Jack headed for the door not answering her. “You have my number, right?”
He got her number all right, he chuckled to himself and left.
Jack climbed into his truck and headed for home as thoughts lingered in his head about the dream. It had aroused him again and now he was wondering if he should have stayed and had Irene take care of the problem but he didn’t want to kill the buzz of that glorious dream.
He wondered if Kate was anything like his dream. Would she lose herself to him, wrapping their bodies together till they were tangled in fleshly sweat and moans? Was she a goddess made from the sensual wells of desire, or was she merely just a pretty woman who caught his fancy?
He would need to tread carefully. Feel her out. After all, she was now his employee, and he didn’t want to cross the line again. His manager would have his hide if he went through another one. At the bar, he told her he wanted her to be his personal housekeeper, but now thinking about it, it probably wasn’t such a good idea. He doubted Kate took him seriously. Actually, he got the impression she didn’t like him at all.
He couldn’t blame her. He’d been a downright ass making her cry and all. He hadn’t meant what he said. He was just trying to ruffle her feathers a bit and knock her down a peg or two from her high Californiacator ideals. But he had to admit, their sparring was quite stimulating, watching her get mad and up in his face, but he hadn’t meant to hurt her.
He pulled up in front of his house and climbed from the truck, heading up the porch steps to the front door. He paused and turned in the direction of the carriage house and spotted a light through the trees. His feet started to move him away from the house and down the porch steps, heading in the direction of her house. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it other than his feet were taking him in that direction.
He stopped just shy of the porch. Through the window he could see the room was dimly lit. There, sitting on the sofa, was the woman from his dream. His eyes drifted upwards from her sleek bare legs right to where the tail of her shirt covered those sweet delectable hips exposing a pair of brown colored panties that almost matched the tan of her skin.
Jack took a few steps closer to get a better view. Her head was buried in her hands and she was crying. It startled him. Her sobs filtered through the open window. Her sweet sounds of grief seemed to pull him in and he pictured himself sitting beside her, holding her and wanting to kiss her tears away.
It was not something he was used to feeling. Actually, he had never felt like this before. He was not a man who succumbed to the frailty or plight of women, always thinking it to be the key weakness in their nature. But now watching her, it didn’t seem weak at all. He almost admired her strength to pour out her heart in the privacy of her own home.
Jack felt a twinge of guilt for spying on her and he wanted to walk away, but something drew him in. He watched as the sobs diminished, now more like intermittent gasps catching between breaths, as her hands fell to her side. She leaned her head back against the couch and spread out her legs onto the floor. Jack’s eyes fell again to those long legs, curved nicely all the way up to her tiny panties. He felt a quickening in his belly remembering the soft feel of her skin in his dream.
As if he were still dreaming, he blinked when he saw her reach to the place where her lean legs ended. His eyes grew wide and intense as he witnessed her need to feel better and ease the loneliness. Soft intoxicating whimpers replaced her sobs. He was transfixed in a state of blissful arousal; seduced by this goddess filling her sadness with something else. It was sweet and feminine, and he wished they were his fingers rather than her own, comforting her, soothing her soul. He heard her light moan, her hand digging into the plush material of the couch; her face more beautiful than before.
Jack ran his fingers through his sandy hair his breathing building in his chest. It was at that moment he knew he wanted her, needed to have her. Like a man possessed, he had no desire to exorcise her from his body or his thoughts. He continued to watch her until she lay on the couch, covered herself with a blanket and turned off the light.
He stood there staring into the window though he could no longer view her, a plan forming in his mind. When Jack McBride got something in his head there was nothing anyone could do to stop him, and he wanted her, all of her. His feet began to move again, sending him back in the direction of his house.
Three
The First Day
Monday morning came with the start of Kate’s new job. Not wanting to be late, she entered the rustic wooden building of the overseer five minutes before her shift started. First impressions are everything she told herself, and she wanted the day to go well.
Mark Sanders looked up from his steel desk and saw his new employee walk through the door. “Good morning, Miss Harris,” he smiled then took a sip of his coffee. “You’re early. If you give me a minute, I’ll be happy to show you where to get started.”
“Good morning,” she declared in a chipper voice. “Please finish what you’re doing. I can wait.” She sat down in a chair not wanting to appear overly eager for her first day. Several minutes and two phone calls later, Mark rose from his chair.
“You ready?” The man stood a good half a foot taller than she with his jet black hair and handle bar mustache. He was a burley looking man, and Kate felt like Thumbelina standing next to this giant with her taller than average five-foot eight-inch frame.
Mark opened the door and Kate stepped outside. She paused briefly for him to take the lead and followed him across the dirt complex. In the distance she spotted the five bunkhouses. She began to calculate the time it would take to clean them. She should most likely be done by noon. Piece of cake, she mused.
They walked past the five wooden structures and Kate paused only to have Mark continue on the path. Maybe he was taking her to the supply area before she got started on the rooms. Mark rounded the corner and she eyed the main house, a two-story log-built home nestled against the foothill backdrop. Upon reaching the house, he proceeded up the porch stairs with Kate following behind.
“Mister Sanders?” She stopped walking and pointed in the opposite direction towards the five wooden squares. “Where are we going? I mean, I thought I was hired to clean the bunkhouses.”
His handle bar mustache twitched like a spider bouncing on a string. “Originally that was the plan. But I was under the impression you and Mr. McBride made other arrangements. You’re going to be his housekeeper.”
“No,” Kate shook her head vehemently. “I never agreed to that.”
“Well, that’s between you and the boss.” It bounced again. “For now, at least, let me show you what needs to be done.” Mark opened the front door and walked in with Kate following close on his heels. “Normally we would use the kitchen entrance by the side of the house, but for today I wanted you to get a feel for the place. Mr. McBride is meticulous when it comes to keeping his place clean.”
Kate walked through the foyer and into the living room. There was wood everywhere; fine wood, made of mahogany and deep oak; the furniture, the tables, and even the hardwood floor shined like glass. It was Kate’s turn to twitch her upper lip. It would take her all day if this room was anything like the rest of the house. She followed the staircase
with her eyes, more wood on the banister and steps.
Mark led her through the dining area and into the kitchen. As Kate passed she noticed the intricately woven rectangular wooden table and a grand hutch to match. She cringed.
“Mr. McBride doesn’t care much for dust,” Mark started his instructions. “Being that this area is nothing but dry dirt, it can create a challenge to keep this place dust-free, but that’s the way he likes it, and we aim to please.” He moved into the kitchen and toward a closet. “All the cleaning supplies are in here.” He opened the door to show her. “Also, since we are still in the process of hiring another cook, it will be your responsibility to prepare Mr. McBride’s lunch and dinner. Breakfast he gets for himself.”
“You want me to cook for him?”
“You can cook, right?” He gave her a worried look.
“I guess I can. What happened to the old cook?”
“Which one?” Mark laughed.
Kate didn’t see the humor. Mark continued his tour of the remainder of the house. He took Kate upstairs and showed her the bedrooms and baths. “This is Mr. McBride’s room,” he stated as he entered the room. “The boss likes clean sheets everyday as well as fresh towels in the bathroom. His laundry should be done on a daily basis and put away.”
Kate glanced around the room. The bed was king size with a rod iron head and footboard to match. There was a large dresser and hutch made of deep mahogany. Everything was in perfect order all the way down to the assembly line of cologne on his hutch.
Mark walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer. “Mr. McBride is particular with the way he likes his clothes folded. You may want to learn how to fold seeing from the examples in the drawers.” He moved to the walk-in closet. “All of Mr. McBride’s pants, including his jeans, get hung up as well as his t-shirts.” Kate peered in and saw everything was in meticulous order. “Boots go on the rack to the left and hats go on the top shelf right.”
