Her Cowboy Boss

by Patricia Johns

  “...add the lemon zest, garlic and hot pepper to the oil, making sure to keep the mixture moving so it doesn’t cook too quickly...”

  She was watching one of her YouTube videos.

  He leaned against the door frame, watching her for a moment. She didn’t hear him, but she slowly turned, her gaze still fixed on her phone, and he wished in this moment that she were a little plainer. Bossing her around would be a whole lot easier if he weren’t constantly fighting his own instincts to soften his tone, be a little kinder, make her like him. What should it matter if she liked him or not, as long as she respected him as her boss?

  “Howdy,” he said, and she startled, dropping her phone with a clatter.

  “You scared me!” she gasped, then started looking around for the phone. Hank bent down and retrieved it—unbroken, thankfully.

  “Sorry,” he said. “We need to talk.”

  “I was just about to start the chili,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  He could try to sugarcoat this, or he could just tell her straight. “Mr. Harmon needs you to cook a decent meal, or he’ll let you go.”

  Hank handed her phone back, and she accepted it with a small frown.

  “He said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “But breakfast was good...all but the oatmeal.”

  “He needs a meal where nothing is burned. His words.” Hank watched her for a reaction but got nothing more than a sigh. “So I’m here to help you out.”

  “Really?” She looked up, green-flecked eyes meeting his hopefully. “I thought you’d be busy with other things.”

  “I was.” And for all his irritation about being sent back for such a menial task, he was grudgingly glad to be here with her. Frankly, any of the other guys would have given much anything to be stuck alone with the cook for a few hours, and here he was.

  “Thank you, Hank.” His name sounded nice on her tongue. He grunted in response. “I really mean it.”

  “You’re cooking for a large group of ranch hands,” Hank said, nodding toward her phone. “No lemon zest. Nothing fancy. That pot that you filled for oatmeal needs to be filled with chili by the time we’re done today. And we’re working with the basics.”

  “Okay.” She tucked her phone back into her pocket. “This recipe called for red wine, too, so—”

  He eyed her, waiting to see if she was joking. She met his gaze evenly, no hint of humor. He smothered a sigh.

  “You realize your job is on the line here,” he clarified.

  She didn’t answer him, but she crossed her arms under her breasts and her expression changed to something slightly less cooperative.

  “Go get the recipe binder I gave you,” Hank ordered, heading to the pantry. He grabbed a couple of heads of garlic and four onions, depositing them on the center island just as she came back with the recipe he’d requested.

  “So you’ll be helping me?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he replied. “I’ll be telling you what to do. Today, you’re learning the ropes.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Get the pot on the stove and turn it on,” he commanded. “What does the recipe call for?”

  She scanned the page. “Oil, garlic, onions and hot peppers.”

  “Okay, then.” He nodded toward the cutting board already on the island. “Get chopping.”

  “You’re bossy,” she muttered, but she did as he ordered and started with the garlic first.

  “You have no idea,” he replied, crossing his arms. “What about the pot?”

  “You said to—” She sighed, then fetched the pot and plunked it on the stove. She leaned forward and turned it on.

  “We’re starting with the chili because it will take longest,” he said.

  “I know that, Hank,” she retorted. “I’m sorry that things haven’t gone perfectly lately, but it isn’t because I’m a half-wit.” She used the flat of the knife to press the garlic and pulled the skins off. Then she started to mince it.

  “I never once called you a half-wit,” he replied with small smile. “Cooking isn’t linked with intelligence.”

  “Oh, and what is it linked to?” she retorted.

  He was liking this irritated, glistening Avery. She was pretty when she was happy, but angry she was downright gorgeous. That age gap seemed to lessen when she challenged him, too.

  “Cooking is linked to passion,” he said, shooting her a teasing smile.

  “So, if I’m such a miserable cook, why does rumor have it that you think I’m here to seduce Mr. Harmon?”

  Hank nearly choked. “What? Who said that?”

  It was true, but he’d thought he’d been discreet about his suspicions.

  “Word gets around,” she said, shooting him an arch look. “Should we set that one to rest right now? First of all, I have no interest in starting up any romantic relationships while I’m in Hope, and second, I’m not interested in older men. So you can let your guard down. You may find cause to fire me, but it won’t be for that.”

  Older men. That included him, he realized, and he didn’t find it disappointing as much as challenging. She wasn’t interested? Give him some time...

  Then he stopped himself. He wasn’t about to get himself fired, either.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he countered.

  “Not to my face,” she replied. “Look, Hank, you’re my boss. And I have no problems with authority, but I do have a few problems with having my reputation smeared behind my back.”

  Avery grabbed the next bulb of garlic and set to work on it, her knife hitting the cutting board with solid thunks—definitely harder than necessary.

  “Avery—” He had to raise his voice to get her attention, and she stopped, looked up at him with eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry. You seemed overly interested in the boss. That’s all. You’ll have to forgive me for looking out for him. But if you say you aren’t interested in him, then I’ll take your word.”

  And she did seem to be honestly indignant at the thought, so maybe she was telling the truth and she was here for some other reason. She finished with the garlic and reached for the first onion.

  “Now, do you want my help today, or not?” he asked.

  Avery paused in her chopping, pink rising in her cheeks. “I’d like your help,” she said, and then after a pause added, “please.”

  “Okay.” He tempered his tone. “And maybe I could be nicer.”

  She didn’t quite smile, but her expression softened. “I’d like that.”

  Blast, and all of a sudden he realized that her soft voice held more power than he’d imagined. Hank’s bark was worse than his bite, but it did cover all those pesky emotions that got in the way.

  He was keeping her from getting fired, and that was all. He’d best remember that.

  Chapter Five

  Avery was relieved at how well dinner turned out. The chili was slightly bland, but not burned and very edible. The baked potatoes were easy enough, and while they weren’t piping hot when served, the toppings made up the difference. She was still pulling biscuits out of the oven the entire time the men were eating—she hadn’t timed that right—but all in all the meal was a success, and Avery’s job was saved for another day. She felt triumphant—a battle won. Learn how to cook or let ’em down easy had been her mother’s advice, and in this job, she didn’t really get the second option. The men had been enthusiastic and she’d received several compliments on the meal, which did a lot for her confidence in her abilities. It was possible that she wasn’t as bad of a cook as she thought.

  With Hank’s help, of course. He’d stayed true to his word and stopped ordering her around. Cooking with him had actually been fun after that. She’d managed to get him talking a little bit—which cut down o
n the bossing around—and he’d told her about some of the workers and a few funny stories around the ranch. He’d stayed by the pot of chili and kept stirring so it wouldn’t burn, and every once in a while, she’d look up from whatever she was doing and find his gaze on her. He’d look away when she caught him. Why was he watching her so much?

  Hank left the kitchen once the meal was served, ate with the guys and then headed out without stopping in to say goodbye. Was that a positive sign? Was this meal going to pass muster with Louis?

  The next couple of days were the same. Hank came by to help her cook, and while they worked, they talked. He seemed more friendly, and with each meal they were able to work together more and more seamlessly. Except she was supposed to do this job alone, and Hank was wasting his time in the kitchen with her.

  Two days later, by the time she’d finished the supper cleanup, the sun was low in the sky. Hank had left after the meal, having other duties that needed his attention. As far as she could tell, the man was working a job and a half in helping her to do hers, so she didn’t mind cleaning up alone.

  Avery thought idly about the fact that her own father was considering firing her. He didn’t know he was her father, and somehow that made it worse. She’d applied for the job as a way to connect with her dad, and so far, she hadn’t succeeded in that. She’d underestimated those professional boundaries. She’d seen a whole lot more of Hank than she had of Louis, and this job was pointless if it didn’t allow her a chance to see her father. While he was never more than a mile away, she’d only managed to have one conversation with him so far.

  Avery took off her apron and hairnet and hung them on a hook. She flicked the lights off behind her and headed out through the seating area toward the front door. The evening was cool. She paused, listening to the twitter of birds and enjoying the pink-and-orange sky. Was it crazy that she was starting to like it here?

  Yes, it was crazy. Montana ranch land might be beautiful, but it wasn’t home, and enjoying her father’s land too much felt like a betrayal to her mother. She touched the bracelet on her wrist.

  Avery had been thinking about her own childhood lately in relation to her father, and how different it might have been if he’d been a part of her life. But how might that have affected her mother? Winona would have been a lot more financially comfortable, too, so she must have kept her distance for a reason. Obviously, Louis hadn’t thought too much of her mom if his way of describing her was looking for love in all the wrong places. Avery knew what that translated to, and frankly, she found it hypocritical for a man to judge a woman’s behavior when he’d been the one who got her pregnant.

  If Louis knew that she was his daughter, would it change anything? Maybe if they could talk a little, it would make revealing who she was easier. He was obviously a good father to the twins, and from what she’d pieced together, he’d been a devoted husband to his late wife. He was capable of being a dad...but was he willing to take on another child, even a grown one? Because she had less than two weeks before she let them off the hook in eating her cooking. She had to get home soon, so time was of the essence.

  The Harmon house was up the road, and she decided to walk. It was a quiet evening, with a refreshing breeze that pushed her hair away from her face. The sun was just a small crescent still visible above the horizon, the sky awash in coral pink and crimson suffusing the skyline. Twilight was the hardest time of day since her mother’s passing. There was something about the not-quite-dark that made the jumble of emotions inside her that much clearer and harder to avoid.

  I miss you, Mom.

  If it weren’t for the cancer, she’d be able to ask her mother all the questions, but then, her mom wouldn’t have given her Louis’s name, either. Winona hadn’t wanted Avery to contact Louis—certainly not in her lifetime.

  As her shoes crunched over the gravel, she wondered what she could realistically expect from the man. Maybe embracing her as part of his family was a long shot, but she wanted him to know that she existed at the very least. Then if he closed off, she’d know her mother had been right.

  The walk between the canteen and the house was a good fifteen minutes, and the fresh air helped to untangle her nerves. As she approached, she could see the curtains were open and the lights were on, giving her a clear view into the sitting room. She saw the back of a chair, a painting on the opposite wall. Louis’s son, Owen, passed in front of the window, a book or a phone in his hands that occupied his attention. At least she assumed the teenage boy was Owen. She searched her heart for some emotion. That was her brother... She didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like.

  The side door opened and Hank stepped out. She could see his face in the light that flooded out from the kitchen, and she recognized his shoulders and the way he held himself. The rumble of low voices carried over to her as Louis and Hank exchanged a few words, and then the door closed again and Hank pushed his hands into his pockets and started walking in her direction.

  She froze. Had he seen her? She didn’t have a plan, exactly. She thought she might knock on the door and ask some questions about the kitchen or something...make an excuse to talk to Louis a little bit. But with Hank coming straight at her, she was reminded of what he thought her intentions toward Louis were, and she didn’t want to play into that image.

  “Evening.” Hank’s voice was low, but not unfriendly. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Just taking a walk.”

  Hank stopped close to her, his eyes shining in the low light. “Dinner was good tonight.”

  “Thanks to you.” She could feel his body heat, and she realized she was a little chilly. “Is... Did Mr. Harmon mention me at all?”

  “Your job is safe,” Hank replied. “He’s not unfair. He just wants to make sure that his guys are getting fed properly, that’s all. He has nothing personal against you.”

  Nothing personal... They had no idea. “That’s good.”

  He was silent for a moment, regarding her. “So...just walking around at night, then?”

  She looked toward the house once more and suppressed a sigh. Maybe the timing wasn’t right tonight, anyway.

  “Clearing my head,” she said with a small smile.

  “It’s pretty quiet around here,” he said. “But we’ve been known to get a few coyotes. Also there are some wolves in the area that have been getting braver lately. They’ve been snatching calves. We guard the herds, but they come in pretty close some nights, and wandering around on your own isn’t a great idea.”

  Avery shivered.

  “I didn’t know that,” she admitted with a soft laugh.

  “Care for some company?” he asked.

  “Well, you do put up a fairly convincing argument not to be alone,” she replied and he chuckled.

  “I’ll walk you back.”

  Avery had to admit that having this big man next to her was comforting, especially when she now knew what could lurk in the darkness. The ranch looked different at dusk. She could make out the headlights of a truck bouncing along a road in the distance, and there were dots on the hills that would be the cattle. The moon hadn’t risen yet.

  “It’s darker than I thought,” Avery said.

  “See?” He sounded mildly glad to have her confirm it. “It’s not like town where you can barely see the stars at night. It gets good and dark.”

  Her foot went into a shallow hole in the road, and she let out a breath of surprise.

  “You okay?”

  “Didn’t see that.” She was feeling a little dumb now for her decision to come walking at this time of night. “Wait—so if you knew it was going to be so dark...what about your truck?”

  “The boss was going to drive me back. I saw you out the window.”

  That was fair enough, but Louis could have driven them both back. Was Hank still trying to keep her away from his bo
ss?

  “The moon will come up soon.” He held out his hand. “But this will make it easier not to trip.”

  “I’m feeling stupid,” she admitted.

  “Don’t.” His warm fingers closed down on her hand, and he tugged her close against his side. “I know all the potholes.”

  She laughed softly, and she had to admit that it wasn’t so bad to be next to him. He smelled good—musky with a hint of hay. His grip was firm and strong, and when he tugged to one side, she found herself easily sidestepping another dip in the road. This wasn’t the most professional situation, but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t here to grow her career, anyway.

  “Wouldn’t this look bad if anyone saw us?” she asked with a low laugh.

  “Probably,” he said.

  “And we’d both find ourselves fired?” she clarified.

  “If we were in a romantic relationship,” he said. “I’m just getting you back in one piece.”

  She felt her cheeks flush, and she was glad for the veil of darkness. She wasn’t a schoolgirl who now thought Hank was her boyfriend for holding her hand, but...it wouldn’t look good, especially for a ranch with such strict rules.

  “So why are you here?” he asked.

  “You keep asking me that.”

  “Because you obviously aren’t a cook.”

  She was silent for a moment, considering her options. “I don’t think I know you well enough for this conversation,” she admitted at last, and in response she heard a chuckle.

  “Alright then...any brothers or sisters?” Hank asked.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You don’t talk much about your family. I’m curious.”

  “You think it’s your business?” she countered.

  “I’m the ranch manager. Everything’s my business.”

  “Even me?”

  “Especially you.” He looked down at her quizzically. “I’ll figure you out yet, Miss Southerly.”