The Divine Creek Ranch Collection Volume 3

by Heather Rainier

  “I think it’s obvious. Let’s just stay out of their way. I’m sure this situation will resolve itself by the end of the week.”

  “Coward.”

  “What?”

  “You basically hired her and now you’re going to leave it to Lydia to deal with her?”

  “Put that way, I guess you’ve got a point.”

  “Guys? Lunch is ready,” Lydia said from the doorway. She smiled, reaching out to Chance with his reading glasses in her hand, and said, “You left these in the kitchen. Sorry to interrupt.”

  Clayton smiled and crooked his finger at her. “You’re not interrupting, Lydi. Can you come here for a second?” Lydia glanced across the house, presumably at Presley Ann, frowned, and then came into the office. Clayton stood up and pulled her closer as she sidled up to him, a frown knitting her brows together and her arms crossed over her chest. “I apologize for not asking more questions about our new house help when I arranged for the agency to send someone. Do you think she’s going to work out?”

  Lydia shrugged. “She’s promised me she’ll work harder tomorrow, dress more appropriately, and prove herself. It’s possible I may have expected too much from her this morning.”

  “I’m not sure she’s the type that’s cut out for the kind of work you need done.”

  “Clayton, I don’t want it said about me that I didn’t give her a fair chance. If I fire her the first day then it may be more difficult to get anybody decent from the agency, especially since she’s related to the owner.”

  “Hell, she’s related to half of Divine and Morehead. You’re being more generous than you need to be, Lydi,” Chance said.

  “I already told her she had until next Wednesday to prove herself. It’s not an emergency for the house to be cleaned from top to bottom in a day. I just want to get it done and over with so things can be maintained properly. I guess I’m just anxious to—”

  “What, baby?” Chance asked.

  “Make a good impression. Take care of things around here for you two.”

  Clayton smiled as he stroked her jaw with a fingertip. “Cut yourself a little slack, Lydi. We already think you’re doing a fantastic job.”

  Lydia smiled happily at him and said, “Thank you.”

  “So you forgive me?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed, “There is nothing to forgive. I’m frustrated but I’m not mad at you. But”—she poked Clayton in the middle of his chest with her fingertip—“I’m hiring the next one. Come eat when you’re ready.”

  They nodded, and she left the room, appearing a little more confident than when she walked in.

  During lunch, Presley Ann did not come across as someone who had any interest whatsoever in a job or housework, and Chance couldn’t believe the gall of her aunt in sending her out. Lydia appeared to tune her out halfway through the meal when Presley Ann persisted in dropping names and events that Lydia knew nothing about.

  Chance frowned when Lydia ate quickly and scraped half of her meal into the trash and set to cleaning up the kitchen. Presley Ann lingered until they finished eating and then made no move to help her.

  The house was Lydia’s domain, and Chance wanted that to be clear. He debated for a few seconds then said, “Lydia, lunch was delicious. Presley Ann, it’s good to meet you. Lydia has complete control of our home and whatever she says goes. If you have any questions, address them to her.”

  “Why, yes, sir, Chance,” Presley Ann said, wiping dust from the high heel of her fancy shoes. Either his subtle reference to Lydia being her boss went over her head, or she didn’t care.

  Lydia caught his eye and smiled at him from across the kitchen and waved. If they both kissed her good-bye before going back to work that would raise questions and probably put more pressure on her than she needed right now. He blew a kiss when Presley Ann wasn’t looking, and Lydia grinned happily. Clayton blew her a kiss and waved, too, as they went out the back door into the hot, noonday sun.

  Chance’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the phone number in caller ID. “Chance Carlisle.”

  “Mr. Carlisle,” said an ingratiating voice on the phone. Mrs. Perkins. Presley Ann Woodworth’s aunt. “How are things working out with Presley Ann? Isn’t she wonderful?”

  Chance made the only polite reply he could think of. “Well…she’s something, all right.”

  “Did you know she was Tarkett County Fair Queen three years ago?”

  What that had to do with being a good worker for Lydia, Chance didn’t know. “Um, okay.”

  “I hope she meets with your approval.” Her tone led him to believe that Dorothy Perkins hoped Chance approved of Presley Ann on a personal level.

  “Well, Mrs. Perkins. It’s not actually my approval she needs.”

  Her knowing tone was loud and clear over the phone. “Oh! Is it Clayton whom she needs to be making happy?”

  Chance hated this line of questioning. It was like talking to a professional matchmaker. “No, ma’am, actually it’s not.” He needed to be careful in how he worded his statement. “The house help we hired needs to please Lydia, our chef.” He stopped from speaking further on the subject because he knew anything he told Mrs. Perkins about his and Clayton’s relationship with Lydia would be spread far and wide through both Divine and Morehead before supper.

  “Oh. I understood there was a housekeeper of sorts.” There was a superior quality to her tone.

  Chance looked at Clayton, wishing that he was the one to get to enjoy this conversation. “Ms. Perkins, Lydia’s role in our home isn’t really the issue. The fact remains that Presley Ann will need to prove herself to Lydia, if she is to stay on.”

  He could have called the whole thing off and severed Presley Ann’s employment on the spot. But he truly wanted Lydia to know that the decision to keep or fire the girl was up to her. Taking it out of her hands would only communicate that he didn’t trust her to do a good job running their home. Chance made his excuses and ended the call.

  “Wonder what kind of mischief Lydia will be dealing with this afternoon,” Clayton said.

  Chance replied, “I hope it goes better than this morning. Did you see the shoes that woman had on?”

  “Yep. They didn’t look like work shoes to me. You?” Clayton asked, glancing at his brother.

  Chance shook his head vigorously. “Nope. They looked like ‘man-trapping’ shoes to me.”

  “Hell, she’s using the wrong bait.”

  “Yeah, and fishing for two fish that are already hooked.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lydia wished she had not made the promise to let Presley Ann stay for a week because she was driving Lydia crazy.

  Presley Ann’s sole purpose in being there on the ranch seemed to be flirting with Chance and Clayton every chance she got, fussing over the scuffed toe of her more conservative, four-inch-heeled shoe, and to dress in a way that made it only slightly less impossible for her to get any work done. The only positive thing Lydia could say was that Presley Ann arrived on time each morning.

  On Wednesday afternoon, Lydia had sent Presley Ann home before supper, assuring her despite her many protests that she could handle the evening meal by herself. Lydia had wanted to have afternoons to do all the prep work for each evening’s meal, anticipating that having a helper would make that possible.

  She was big enough to admit, at least to herself, that she also did not want Presley Ann around Chance and Clayton any more than absolutely necessary.

  Wednesday afternoon she’d had to supervise Presley Ann in doing the simplest of tasks, like making beds and cleaning bathrooms. Her idea of making a bed was throwing the blankets back over it and putting the pillows back at the head.

  Lydia didn’t examine too closely the fact that she would not allow Presley Ann to strip Chance’s and Clayton’s beds, or to be alone in their rooms at all. Lydia had sent her down the hall to the master suite to make the bed and clean the bathroom and dust, knowing she would probably redo the work that night when
she went upstairs.

  Lydia had removed their sheets and allowed herself a few seconds to just stand there and enjoy the essence of man that lingered in both sets. The men might have been identical, but she could tell them apart with her eyes closed, just by their scents. Chance’s was like fresh laundry dried in the sun, with a hint of brisk aftershave and his own natural scent. He was like a summer breeze and a warm, sexy smile. Clayton’s fragrance was more earthy, dark and spicy with the barest hint of musk. He was a kiss in the dark that left her breathless.

  Presley Ann’s presence in the doorway of Chance’s bedroom had interrupted Lydia’s daydream. “Who else lives in this house besides Clayton and Chance?”

  “I do,” she replied as she gathered the linens and placed them in the laundry basket by the door.

  “I figured that,” Presley Ann said, gesturing with her manicured thumb toward the guest room door across the hall. “Who uses the master suite?”

  Presley Ann must’ve gotten the impression that Lydia was the housekeeper and used one of the smaller bedrooms across the hall.

  “Those are my rooms.”

  The surprise on Presley Ann’s face was priceless. “Yours? Why?”

  “The men preferred that I have my own bathroom. Chance felt that it worked out best that way.”

  Presley Ann let out a surprised, “Huh! So they let the housekeeper have the master suite, huh? Nice work.”

  Biting her tongue, Lydia moved to Clayton’s room to inspect the job Presley Ann had done cleaning and dusting and demonstrated for her the proper way to clean a toilet.

  Thursday had been like that as well, with Presley Ann asking one question after another, some more personal than she liked. She’d finally asked Presley Ann to mind her own business and worry about getting her work done.

  Lydia decided that she would send her home at five every evening after discovering the hard way that Presley Ann was utterly useless in the kitchen. Wednesday evening’s entrée had to be thrown in the trash after it was discovered that she’d grated three of her acrylic fingernails into the ingredients. Washing dishes was bad for her manicure, she said, and the dishes she’d washed were left unclean, so Lydia gave up on that point. She couldn’t have any of them getting food poisoning, and she didn’t have time to supervise Presley Ann every second so she let her go home earlier than she had originally intended each day.

  The last two days, Lydia had eaten lunch quickly and then rushed through that evening’s meal prep time while Presley Ann folded laundry.

  Thursday night Lydia picked at the napkin in her lap as all the men ate supper. Chance and Clayton kept glancing at her, and the other men were quieter than they had been the night before. Lydia had been able to have supper on the dinner table, but it had been close both times. Tonight’s meal was done and the men seemed content, but she wasn’t happy with the result. The baked chicken wasn’t her best effort, and she thought that it showed.

  Over his coffee cup and dessert, Chance softly said, “Baby, the meal was fantastic. I’m sorry you had another rough day.” He shifted his hold on the cup, and she felt his hand gently stroke her thigh. The gesture was comforting and brought the prickle of tears to her eyes.

  She wanted them to see what a good job she could do with their home. They did seem pleased, but she knew today should have gone much better. She’d walked around the house after Presley Ann left to see if she could tell any difference from her pitiful efforts and was displeased to find that she couldn’t. Presley Ann had done nothing but waste her time.

  Two days was long enough to get used to the job, and they were going to get some serious work done from this point forward or Presley Ann was out of there. It was a relief that Presley Ann would not be around during the weekend so Lydia could get caught up. Lydia gave a halfhearted smile thinking that it was her who actually got the weekend off.

  “Miss Lydia, that was another delicious meal,” George Kunkel said, drawing her back to the present, as he put his napkin beside his plate with a contented sigh.

  She smiled at the man, who had such kind eyes, and said, “Thank you, George. That’s very sweet of you to say.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am. You’re gonna spoil us,” he replied. He appeared to be about Chance and Clayton’s age, and like several of the others Chance had pointed out the other night, he was a bachelor living in the older ranch house which was used for a bunkhouse now.

  The men rose from their chairs and all took their plates and utensils into the kitchen and placed them in the large sink full of hot, soapy water she’d filled for that purpose right before supper.

  “G’night, ma’am,” they all called as they headed to the back door.

  She called out in response and then turned to Chance and Clayton, who were still seated at the table with her.

  “I noticed that Kade Parker didn’t come for supper again tonight. I’m sorry my presence is causing trouble.”

  “It’s not your presence that is causing trouble, but his,” Chance replied. They didn’t say anything else about Parker, but Lydia wondered if something else had happened concerning him. Indicating the departing men, he added, “They’ve really taken a liking to you, I think.”

  Lydia smiled happily and her cheeks heated up. All of the men had been very complimentary of her cooking. She found that with the exception of the one bad apple, she liked them all very much.

  “Let’s get the kitchen done and then I want to rub Lydi’s tired little feet.”

  Lydia giggled as she rose from her chair. “They are anything but little, cowboy, and I’ve been running all day. You sure you want to get near my feet?”

  “That’s just where I plan to start.” The look in Clayton’s eyes told her that he wanted to get near a whole lot more.

  Chance chuckled and patted her butt as he followed them into the kitchen. “Baby, you have pretty, delicate little feet compared to ours.”

  They made short work of placing the dishes in the dishwasher as they bantered playfully then drew her into the family room and turned on the television. She decided to stay down there for a while even though she would’ve loved to go upstairs and collapse.

  Chance sat at one end of the couch at an angle, and Clayton directed her to lie down so that she reclined against Chance. He immediately started rubbing her tense shoulders. Wherever he rubbed, her flesh grew warm.

  “Oh, that feels good.”

  “You’re tied up in knots, baby. Just relax for me,” Chance said against her temple as he soothed her sore, tight muscles.

  Clayton untied her sneakers and slipped her socks from her feet and gently rubbed them. It tickled at first, but she gradually grew accustomed to his touch on her sensitive feet.

  “Your feet are ticklish, aren’t they?” Clayton asked as he rubbed against the arch of her right foot.

  “Yes. Extremely.” He used his whole hand to massage her feet and never stroked in a way that would tickle, and she gradually relaxed until she turned to putty in their hands.

  Chance muted the television and said, “We set you up with a bank account for house expenses. I’ve got all the necessary forms for you to sign.”

  “You do?”

  Chance continued kneading her shoulders and arms. “Yes. Two thousand dollars will transfer on the first and fifteenth of each month into that account. You can use it to buy food, supplies, and pay your house help. If you need anything beyond that or feel like you need the amount increased just let us know and we’ll take care of it. We’ll handle payment for home repairs and any big expenditures. We don’t expect your account to cover those costs.”

  Wow. “Okay.”

  “I have paperwork that you need to sign in order to open your own personal account, too. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of setting it up, baby. We wanted you to have a separate account for your personal shopping and savings, or whatever. I’m sure there are things that you need after living on such a strict budget while in Fort Stockton.”

  Lydia rep
lied, “Well, yes, actually I do need to go shopping. Thank you.” A lot of her clothing was showing age and wear because she’d had to be so careful with her money, and it would be nice to have some new things.

  “On the first and fifteenth, one thousand dollars will transfer into your personal account as well.”

  Her eyes opened so wide her eyeballs could’ve rolled from their sockets as she sat up. “Huh?”

  Chance and Clayton both grinned and chuckled. Chance continued, “What you’re doing around here is of great value to us, baby. No matter how things progress for us personally, we plan to compensate you fairly for your hard work. Plus, I want you to have anything you need.”

  “But that’s a lot of money!”

  Chance drew her back to him and said, “Someday we’ll show you the oil wells on the back side of the ranch. It’s a drop in the bucket, trust me.”

  Clayton said, “You also need a laptop for your own use and for the kitchen. We’ll make sure you have what you need.”

  Wow. Just Wow. “All right. Thank you, guys. Thank you very much. That’s very generous.”

  Clayton said, “About the house help. We never intended for you to run yourself ragged keeping up with everything. We want you to have decent help, so you can relax and not have to work so hard. If Presley Ann is not the person or persons you need, all you have to do is give her the word and she’s gone. We will back you up completely. I trusted Mrs. Perkins to send the right person and instead it looks like she sent the House Bunny.”

  Lydia chuckled, reminded that she’d thought the same thing when she’d opened the door Wednesday morning. “She has until Wednesday. Five months ago, I remember needing someone to give me a chance, and I’m going to extend the same courtesy to her.”

  Chance pressed his lips to her throat and said, “I think your situations were vastly different, baby, but I respect your position. Don’t let her take advantage of your generous nature.”

  He pressed kisses in a line from her shoulder to her ear, and she shivered when the tip of his tongue flicked against her earlobe. Her eyelids slid closed, and she reveled in the sensation of being held in Chance’s arms as Clayton continued to rub her feet. It made her feel precious when Chance groaned and squeezed her to him. “Mmm. You feel good in my arms, baby.”