Damn I loved the way she said my name in that syrupy southern drawl that screamed long, hot summer nights. I dug in to the delicious chunk of lasagna she’d cut for me. It was full cheese and sauce and fresh beef straight from Hawkeye Ranch.
“Amazing,” I told her, pointing at the plate with my fork.
“Thanks,” she answered, seemingly amused by me. “Have you always been a rancher?”
My body tightened at her question. Not that she would have any idea how much I hated the subject.
“Nope. Until about five years ago, I was an investment banker in New York. I loved it and then I hated it. I’d bought this place a few years before I left as a vacation home, kind of a gentleman’s ranch. Then I moved here full-time and I haven’t looked back.”
“Wow you’re on a second career and I can’t even get the first one off the ground.” She sighed and propped her feet up on the bannister. “I think I’m jealous.”
I laughed a real full bodied laugh. Haven’t had one of those in a while.
“Don’t be. I came this close to a heart attack. Then I moved here and it wrecked my marriage.” I wasn’t all that sad about the breakdown of the marriage. But it did give me a taste of something I hadn’t experienced a lot of in my life. Failure.
“Well that sucks. Did you love her lots?”
“I thought I did. But we were comfortable together. Came from the same kind of background and did the same kind of work. It was convenient because we attended so many of the same events. But living out here with no buffer brought everything to light.”
“Well yeah, I imagine you’d need to have someone you can talk to out here, but what a view!” She shook her head, red curls falling around her bare shoulders, face radiant with her sweet smile. “I’ve been out here for an hour and I can’t get enough.”
That was more than Elena, my ex, had ever been able to say about the ranch. About the town of Rogue. She had made it explicitly clear what she thought of small-town life. Elena was having none of it, even at the risk of my health.
“Yeah I know what you mean. So many stars at night. Nothing like New York.”
“Or Atlanta,” she added. “My hometown though is just like this. Remote. Quiet. Small. Starry and green. Gorgeous.”
She sounded so wistful I believed she really meant it. But only as much as a person who’d been in the city for the past few years. A year or two in, she would be just like my ex-wife. Or the one short-lived girlfriend I’d had since then.
“Why’d you leave?”
She huffed out a laugh, but it was more bitter than nostalgic or amused.
“I wanted more opportunities. The only thing in Cranberry beyond Main Street is a dying factory or marriage and babies.”
Her words took me by surprise and I choked on my beer. “You don’t want marriage and babies?”
“Of course I do, but not with boys I used to babysit or I’ve known my whole life. I wanted to cook amazing food for people who would appreciate it. That was my big dream you know? A chef. I wanted that, thought I could have it.”
“You have plenty of time,” I told her because I believed that.
I’d gone into an industry that dealt in millions and billions of dollars so I’d made a lot of money and quickly. Between my own investments, trust funds and the ranch, money would never be a problem for me. But none of it came overnight.
“Nah, maybe I need to readjust my goals. Get a job as a cook. Period. Doesn’t have to be fancy or Michelin starred just…food.”
“I’ve tasted your food and it’s more than just anything. It’s an experience.”
“Careful Asher or I might think you actually like me.”
I frowned at that. “I do. Too much.” Damn, why’d I say that? I stood and reached for her. “Come on.”
She frowned, confused. “Where?”
I didn’t tell her, figuring she’d appreciate a surprise like this. Unless she really was a city girl, in which case she might just feel grossed out. Pulling her along, I savored the feel of her soft palm against my rougher one from five years of ranching work. It wasn’t easy work, it was damn hard, but it also calmed something in me. Settled me.
“Careful,” I grabbed her waist when she stumbled in the dimming light, and I really shouldn’t have. Good Lord, she was soft and curvy and so damn lush.
She gasped when I tossed the barn door open, holding on to my arm as we walked to the back.
“Oh!” she fell to her knees in her sexy little dress, emphasis on little. “You’re a handsome fella aren’t you?” She cooed to the foal stumbling around his mama, just barely noticing the ranch manager off to the side. “Hey Jesse, life treating you alright?”
“As alright as I reckon it’s gonna get Clara.” She laughed and Jesse actually smiled—with teeth showing and everything.
“Glad to hear it. So, you guys don’t have a vet or something who does this?”
She might be small town, but I knew she’d never set foot on a ranch before a few weeks ago.
“We’re only here as a precaution. The horses know what to do. Doctors just get in the way.”
I watched as her mind processed that before another startlingly beautiful smile touched her mouth.
“I suppose that’s true. Good goin’ mama,” she offered to the tired black mare in the corner.
“Don’t get too close,” I told her, it came out harsher than I intended, and she shot me a glare. “If you get too close his mama might not accept him.”
She looked devastated. “Really?”
At my nod, she took a step back and I had to fight a smile.
This woman was going to be trouble. Pure and simple.
“Have you seen Clara?” I’d searched the house, the barn and even the paddock closest to the house in search of the curvy redhead, and she was nowhere in sight.
Bob Lee looked up with a grin. “She said something about pulling weeds, so my guess is that she’s over in the garden.”
It wasn’t so much a garden these days as a plot of land that used to be a garden.
“Thanks,” I bit out and turned to head toward the little plot of land Elena, and then Dolly had both wanted to preserve as a garden. The last thing I needed was another woman starting something she couldn’t finish. As I moved closer to the fenced off area, Clara came into view. Miles of creamy flesh on display thanks to a pair of frayed denim shorts. Her breasts shook brilliantly as she pulled up weeds, barely contained under the lightweight tank she wore. Rounded backside thrust in the air. Tempting me.
Torturing me.
Clearing my throat a few feet from her, I needed a moment before I could speak.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Of course since the woman muddled my brain, I barked at her. Again.
Startled, she up at me, one red curl dangling between narrowed green eyes. “Playing in the dirt, what does it look like?”
I smiled because I can’t remember the last time a woman other than Dolly and my mother gave me a hard time. Most women bent to my will, complimented me and tried to stroke my ego because I’m wealthy and own a pretty large spread. Not Clara though.
“This isn’t part of your job.”
She sighed and leaned back to sit on her feet before settling her gaze back on me.
“Yes, I know that Mr. Hawthorne, but it’s nice to have fresh herbs and veggies if you can, and this is already here. Just needs some TLC.”
That garden wasn’t the only thing in need of some TLC, I thought to myself, eyeing the milky white cleavage on display.
“Is that alright?” Her voice sounded impatient but her face revealed none of that.
“As long as you make sure your actual job is done first.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the weeds, yanking with surprising strength.
“Lunch is ready to go, a load of laundry is washing and drying and the whole house is clean. Was there anything else?”
I was too caught up in the sight of her hips moving
as she worked, her soft skin dotted with freckles, to realize she’d asked me a question.
“What?”
“Anything else?”
Was there?
“Yep. I need to head into town to pick up a few things and I want you to come with me. You need to meet Cal Montgomery from the grocery store so he knows you’re working for me now.”
Clara thought it over as her eyes swept over the garden, and then she pushed herself to standing and nodded.
“I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.”
I didn’t believe that for one second. Every woman I had ever met in my life took at least an hour to get ready. So, I took my time, showering and changing before checking a few emails and then heading downstairs.
“There you are.”
She looked up at me but her gaze was hidden behind a pair of huge purple sunglasses that matched the sexy but sweet sleeveless dress she wore.
“Been here waiting on you,” she muttered and stood, jogging down the steps and making her way to my truck. “I said ten minutes Mr. Hawthorne, and I never say things I don’t mean.” She hopped in the truck without my help and slammed the door a little harder than she needed to.
I thought I would use the ride to town to find out how she really felt about working for me.
“So, how are you settling in?”
She looked over at me with an unrecognizable expression on her face. “Great. The room is more than I thought I’d have and the house is beautiful. The guys are easy and very grateful so, pretty good.”
“And your boss?” I probed.
She shrugged and shot me a smile. “He’s a little gruff and I think he’ll be happy to see me gone, but he’s not so bad.”
“I don’t dislike you,” I told her when I pulled up in front of the feed store and hopped from my truck.
She slid from her seat and shut the door before smoothing the light fabric of her dress over her body.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend. It’s fine. I’ll do my job because that’s what you’re paying me to do.”
It really grated on me that she genuinely thought I didn’t like her. Because I did. The problem was that I was too damn attracted to her. That annoyed the heck out of me and I ended up taking it out on her.
Even as she followed me around the feed store, I could feel the heat of her body behind me. The scent of peaches wafted under my nose with every flick of her hair, and damn when she’d accidentally brush against me, hell I had to pull out rodeo stats just to keep my body from betraying me.
By the time we finished up at the feed store and bought a few more seeds for the garden at Clara’s request, my body was overheated.
“We can walk to the supermarket.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“I don’t dislike you,” I told her again. It bugged me more than I thought, apparently.
“Okay.” Her tone said she didn’t believe me.
“I don’t. I actually like you Clara.” I winced at my own words, not at all conveying what I needed her to get.
“High praise,” she murmured.
I couldn’t help it. Reaching out I grabbed her arm until she faced me.
“I like you Clara, alright?”
Her mouth turned up into the tiniest smile I’d ever seen and she patted my arm, searing me and causing my blood to flow to my crotch at her touch.
“Sure Mr. Hawthorne. Say it without that grumpy frown and I might believe you one day.” She walked inside, hips swaying beneath that purple dress in a way that tempted a man to forget he was a gentleman.
Yep. So much damn trouble.
Chapter Three
Clara
Where was he? It was going on eleven o’clock at night and Asher was nowhere to be seen. I’d gone out to the bunkhouse and the guys assured me he was fine, simply easing his mind by checking on some of the newest cattle he worried might be lost. That was more than two hours ago, and I was officially worried even though I had no cause to be.
“Stupid man, out there, who knows where by himself. In the dark.”
Gazing out the window over the sink I squinted into the darkness hoping a tall, well-muscled figure would suddenly appear so my own heart could get to beating regularly again.
Hope was not my friend tonight.
So, I put on a pot of coffee and waited.
And waited.
By the time the clock struck twelve-thirty I had half a mind to go out there and look for him myself. But Jesse had assured me that Asher was perfectly capable of handling himself and ordered me not to worry myself silly. Like that was possible.
“Where have you been,” I practically yelled at him the moment the door opened.
“Oh my goodness what happened to you?” He looked awful, like he’d been trampled by a herd of elephants and left to die.
“A playful calf knocked into me and his mama objected,” he answered with a half smirk, half grimace that did nothing to conceal his pain. “I’m a little banged up but I’ll be alright.”
I let him lean on me and he did, which was proof enough to me that the man was badly hurt.
“Have a seat Mr. Hawthorne and let me make sure you’re alright.” It was important for me to maintain some distance, and addressing him formally was the first step.
He groaned and glared at me. “If you’re planning on playing nurse the least you can do is call me Asher.”
I nodded and grabbed the first-aid kit and some towels from the laundry room. I checked over his face and head, all fine. His arms were scratched, so I just disinfected them, but his hands were all messed up.
“Did you fall into something?” He was silent, so I grabbed his chin and tilted his face until his blue eyes met my own. “If I need to clean it out before bandaging it, I need to know Mr.--,”
He scowled at me again, cutting me off.
“Asher. Yeah, a long stretch of debris. Wouldn’t be surprised to find a few in there,” he said, nodding towards his hands.
I got busy, ignoring his intoxicating scent of sweaty male, horse, grass and something I just knew was unmistakably Asher. I gently washed his hands, picking out the tiny rocks embedded under the surface and pretending he was mine. Not that I wanted him per se, but it would be nice to have a big strong man to lean on once in a while. And a man like Asher would be easy to lean on, at least he would if he wasn’t so darn surly.
“I imagine you want to hop in the shower?”
His gaze slid to mine, confused and dark for a moment before he blinked. “Uh, well, yeah I’m kind of filthy.”
He was, but in the best possible way. In the way that makes a woman want to jump on him and get just as dirty for no other reason than to enjoy touching every inch of his body. And then for a chance to soap him up in the shower. I shivered, and dang he noticed.
“I just meant that these will need to be bandaged but maybe after the shower?”
When Asher stood, I had to back up just to give him room. He was so… imposing. I couldn’t stop the gasp that came out when he pulled the dirt smudged t-shirt from his body, revealing a gloriously tanned chest packed with so many muscles I didn’t know what to look first. His golden pecs, eight hard muscles took up the landscape of his torso or the smattering of blonde hair that was…mouthwatering.
“I think I have one on my back too, can you?”
Can I lick it? Why yes I can! I shouldn’t be having thoughts like that, especially about my boss. A man who on his best day barely tolerated my presence. So, I shook it off as best I could, saving those images for later.
“Oh my! It’s a large gash Asher, how on earth did this happen?”
He chuckled and the sound was deep and rumbling, like thunder during a spring storm.
“I told you, his mama didn’t like him playing with me.”
The gash was red and nasty with dried blood stuck to his skin and his shirt, I noticed.
“I’ll clean it as best as I can but I’ll need to bandage it once you’re clean.”
> Twenty minutes later the man was—good lord—looking like my favorite desert as he stood in my doorway wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pants that hung sinfully low on his hips. The nearly white blonde hair went all the way down before disappearing into his waistband. He was big and blonde and buff. And completely and totally out of my league. Shaking my head I had to laugh at my thoughts. I wasn’t one of those big girls with self-esteem issues, I knew what I looked like and I embraced it. But Asher Hawthorne was a man that was out of most women’s league, never mind a wannabe chef from Cranberry, Georgia.
“Okay where do you want to do this?” I froze because I knew exactly how it sounded, especially after I’d spent the past minute and a half ogling his impressive physique.
“Have a seat,” I muttered.
“You were worried about me,” he finally said as I gathered everything I needed on the corner of the bed.
“Of course I was,” I told him as I smeared antibiotic cream on the long gash in his back. “You were much later than normal and out there by yourself. It wasn’t smart and I hope you don’t do that again.”
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled again and I fought the urge to smack him. “I do know what I’m doing out there, you know.”
“I’m sure you do, but that didn’t stop me from worrying did it?”
He sighed and his shoulders slumped while I massaged cream into his back. “No I suppose not. I am sorry about that but it’s been awhile since I’ve had anyone to worry about me.”
That was, without a doubt, the saddest thing I’d ever heard.
“You must be my replacement. You’re much prettier than I expected.”
I stood in the doorway, mouth gaping open and closed like a darn fish at the older woman dressed like an adorable senior cowgirl. I liked her immediately.
“You must be Dolly. Come on in, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She laughed and the sound was so contagious I couldn’t help but join in.
“Lies, all of it. Those rascals are nothin’ but trouble.”
I laughed because she was so full of it. The affection for those rascals rang clearly in her voice.
His Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 46
