Her Cowboy Boss

by Patricia Johns

  As the horses crunched on their treat, Avery opened the first sandwich and discovered cold cuts and cheese on a crusty bun. She didn’t wait on ceremony, but took a jaw-cracking bite. The tang of pickle mingled with mayonnaise in absolute perfection. She rolled her eyes upward in appreciation.

  “I also make a good sandwich,” Hank said, and opened the wax paper that covered his.

  “It’s great,” she said past her food, then swallowed. “So you do this every Sunday?”

  “As many as possible.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Avery watched the horses graze as she munched, and when she looked back at Hank, she caught him watching her.

  “What?” she asked, licking her fingers.

  “You’re beautiful.” He passed her a muffin. “That’s all.”

  “Oh...” Coming from him it sounded more like a confession than a compliment. “Are you still my boss after hours?”

  “Yep.” He grinned.

  “So this is really unprofessional, then,” she teased.

  “Entirely. Mr. Harmon would have a word with me if he saw this.” But there was humor in his eyes. “Seriously, though, I promised myself I’d keep on the proper side of that line with you. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  She found herself feeling a little disappointed in that, and a little thrilled that he’d even had to make that promise. He was older, wiser, rugged—and definitely tempting. It was a rush to realize that she tempted him, too. They both knew how things stood—but out here in the rippling grass, horses grazing a few yards off, it felt like the rules no longer applied.

  Although of course they did, she reminded herself firmly.

  “I was surprised,” she said after a moment. “All of the other ranch hands have been really...” Distanced. Nervous. Eerily formal. “...polite since I’ve arrived.”

  “Oh, that.” He didn’t say anything more.

  “What?” she pressed. “I’m used to more chitchat, and you’d think I was a nun.”

  “I threatened them with bodily harm if I saw them treating you with anything less than respect,” he replied, a quirky smile coming to his lips. “And they believed me.”

  “So that was you?” she asked. Somehow she’d suspected as much.

  “Yeah... I thought it would make life easier for you.”

  He’d been looking out for her from the beginning. It was sweet, actually. She’d expected to have to bend back a few fingers or knee a groin or two, but none of that had been necessary.

  “You’re a very sweet man, Hank.”

  “You think?” Color tinged his face. Had she actually made him blush?

  “You are,” she confirmed. “I’m used to something different with men.”

  Or maybe it was just the men she had dated. So far, she’d never met a man quite like Hank.

  “You should get used to something better,” he said. “Because I’m just doing the bare minimum here.”

  She lifted the half-finished muffin. “Are you sure?”

  “Alright, I’m going a tad further than usual,” he said, the humorous gleam coming back to his eye. “But everything else is on par with other employees. I often hold the hand of a cowboy to make sure he doesn’t twist his ankle in the dark.”

  Avery laughed. “Do you now?”

  “Several times a week.” The smile faded, and he rose to his feet. “Come here.”

  He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her up. He didn’t let go, instead leading her up the swell of a nearby hill. She was breathing hard by the time they crested it to look down over a cow-dotted plain. A tree-lined creek meandered away from the craggy blue mountains in the distance, and the low of cattle reached them on the breeze like Nature’s own lullaby.

  “That’s where we work,” Hank said, close to her ear. “Just you and the cattle...sometimes another guy on a horse when it takes more than one, but most times, just you.”

  “Isn’t it lonely?”

  “Yeah, can be.” His voice was soft, and when she looked at him, he brushed a stray tendril off her forehead. “A guy gets a lot of time to think out there. Mull stuff over. Make his peace with whatever eats away at him.”

  “Like what?”

  “Gotta say, Avery, the last little while, all I’ve been thinking about is you.”

  His gaze moved over her face, and down to her mouth. His lips parted, and she could feel the tension in his stance. He leaned closer, then stopped.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered.

  “Promised I wouldn’t...” But his eyes were still fixed on her mouth, and when she leaned toward him ever so little he let out a soft moan. “I promised myself, Avery...”

  It was rare to feel like the one in control with this rugged cowboy, and she realized with a rush that she liked it. He’d promised himself to behave, but she hadn’t. She leaned closer still, and tipped her face up toward his. She could see what he wanted by the glitter in his eyes, but he still didn’t make a move.

  “Are you sure?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “Yup.” But he didn’t step back.

  She put her hands on his biceps, stood up onto the tips of her toes, then let her eyes flutter shut as she touched her lips ever so gently to his.

  That was all it took for his hands to slide around her waist and pull her hard against him. He responded to her as he took control of the kiss. His hand moved up her spine, then plunged into her hair. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded in her ears. She realized that she wasn’t exactly prepared for this—she didn’t know how to respond to this level of desire—but she wanted to. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and she felt the warmth of his work-roughened hand move underneath her shirt and over the bare skin of her waist.

  She should stop...she knew that. This was quickly going further than she’d intended, and he seemed to have a lot more experience in these things than she did. She put her hands on his chest and pushed herself back.

  Hank released her, closed his eyes and heaved a guttural sigh. “Sorry.”

  “I just...” She touched her hands to her warm cheeks. She hadn’t meant to start that, exactly. Although, she should have known better than to toy with a man who had a decade more experience than she did.

  “I don’t do casual very well,” she admitted. “I’ve tried it before, and my heart always gets trampled. So I know better... I shouldn’t have started that.”

  “I don’t do casual very well, either.” He smiled uncertainly. “You’re right. Doing this now...it’s a bad idea. You’ve got a life in Kansas, and I’ve got one here. And frankly, if anyone were to see us, I could find myself out of work.”

  She still felt breathless; her knees were slightly weak. She knew what she wanted, and it was to see what happened next—if she didn’t stop him...

  “We should get back,” she said instead.

  He scooped up her hand in his warm grip and they walked down the hill toward the horses. That one had been her fault—she’d been the one to push past the line. She wasn’t sorry that she’d done it...not exactly. She felt a little foolish, though, for not anticipating how he’d react. A chaste little peck on his lips wasn’t going to stay chaste.

  “Avery...”

  She looked up at him and found those blue eyes fixed on her.

  “I’ll never push you into anything,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel nervous about being alone with me. I’m not the kind of guy who would take advantage. You’re safe with me...okay?”

  Safe. That was exactly how she felt with this cowboy. But this was short-term, and she had no business getting attached, because when her heart inevitably got broken, there was no one left to catch her when she fell.

  * * *

  THAT EVENING, HANK finished his ro
unds and headed back to the main house to drop off some paperwork. His mind was still on the feeling of Avery’s lips. That woman could stir up his blood like no other!

  She’d been the one to kiss him, and all that self-control had evaporated when her lips touched his. At first, he’d meant to kiss her back just as sweetly, but that lasted for all of a second before his instincts took over and that burn deep inside him ignited. He’d wanted to taste her, to pull her into him, to feel her against him with so much desire that it had taken every ounce of his willpower to release her when she’d pulled back. Not even Vickie had done that to him—not like this—and it scared him a little. He’d been married for twelve years, but other than Vickie, he didn’t have a lot of experience. This was how hearts got mangled, and his was just as vulnerable as Avery’s right now.

  Hank had told himself he wouldn’t kiss Avery again, and he’d meant it. He wasn’t the kind of guy who toyed with a woman’s emotions, and she was young. The age difference seemed to disappear when he was with her, but that didn’t change the fact that he already had a marriage and a divorce under his belt. He’d seen more than she had, and he couldn’t take advantage of that. He also had more to lose than she did.

  He was a man who’d worked for everything he’d ever gotten. His pride depended on that, and getting fired? His pride wouldn’t survive that, either. He refused to go hat in hand to his cousin Chet to ask for a job. Chet had his brother, Andy, to manage his ranch, which meant that the only positions available would be as ranch hand, and he didn’t want to go back to that. This might be a vacation flirtation for her, but his whole life could be torn apart.

  Hank parked his truck next to Mr. Harmon’s black Ford and hopped out. Clouds were closing in, and Hank paused to look at the gathering storm. They’d have rain tonight—there was no doubt of that. At least it had been sunny for his afternoon ride. He’d crossed lines, but he didn’t regret it. He’d just have to make sure he didn’t do it again—his famous last words, it seemed.

  “Evening, Hank,” Mr. Harmon said as Hank let himself in the side door. The older man sat at the table, a ledger open in front of him as he went down the columns with a pencil in hand.

  Hank dropped his paperwork into a file folder. “Evening, boss.”

  “How was your day?” Mr. Harmon asked, glancing up, but his gaze was a little more direct than the casual words suggested.

  “Fine,” Hank said. “You?”

  His boss shrugged. “Not too bad.”

  “Avery—the new cook—wanted to speak with you tomorrow morning.”

  Mr. Harmon looked up, his expression guarded. “About?”

  “You’d have to ask her.”

  Hank sure wasn’t going to get into the middle of that.

  “Alright,” Mr. Harmon said with a nod. “And speaking of the cook, I’ve heard something, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

  Owen had spilled it to his father; Hank could feel it. Anxiety wormed up inside of him—what would he say? What could he say? He sighed, then nodded. “Sure. What’s going on?”

  “You know my stance on workplace relationships,” his boss said.

  “Clear as day, sir.”

  “So, you wouldn’t be starting something up with our new cook, would you?”

  Hank shut his eyes for a moment, gathering his own calm. It might not have been Owen. It could have been any other ranch hand who’d seen all the time he’d been spending with her lately, or noticed some passing glance between them. Whatever had grown between him and Avery hadn’t been planned, but it was there nonetheless.

  “Sir, I wouldn’t jeopardize my position here by flagrantly breaking a rule. I’ll admit that I’m attracted to her, but I have my priorities straight. You have nothing to worry about from me.”

  Mr. Harmon regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take your word on that. I’d hate to lose you, Hank. You’re the best manager I’ve ever had, but I’m a man of my word, too. And fair is fair on this ranch. What’s good for the ranch hand is good for the manager.”

  “I hear you, sir.”

  Hank finished putting away a few forms, desperate to get out of there. What exactly had his boss heard? What had been seen? If someone had come across them in the field... He grimaced, then turned for the door.

  “Good night, sir. See you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  She was the one who kissed me. But that didn’t matter, because Louis was looking to Hank for professionalism and self-control.

  And when he crawled into bed that night, he listened to the rain coming down in a steady downpour, drenching fields and filling streams. They needed this. Montana summers tended to be hot and dry, so they counted on the storms for much-needed moisture. It was only June and they hadn’t seen the real heat yet, but any ranching man knew what was coming. If only he’d been a little better at foreseeing the complications from their pretty cook.

  Hank had stayed up later than usual tonight, his mind still spinning from the day’s events, and by the time his head hit the pillow, the rain that normally soothed him only kept him awake. He couldn’t get Avery out of his mind...not that he was trying all that hard.

  His spare, pristine house that had no record of a woman left in it felt slightly empty. Would it be so terrible to have a woman’s hairbrush on the counter in his bathroom, or the scent of body lotion or perfume lingering on the other pillow? Except he wasn’t imagining just any woman; in his mind’s eye, it was Avery with those red curls splayed across the pillow as she smiled over at him...

  That wasn’t helping matters. It only made him think of things he couldn’t have. Neither of them were the “casual” kind, and even if they were, he’d be fired for it. That had been a warning if he’d ever heard one.

  He’d been lying in bed for two hours already and sleep was still eluding him. He’d been happy with his life up until that slim redhead arrived on Harmon Ranch. He’d been intrigued by her from the beginning, first because he was suspicious of her motives, but the boundaries had gotten blurred somehow. It was nothing more than attraction, right? He’d known her for barely two weeks, and she was on her way out of town... She was telling Mr. Harmon who she was tomorrow, and what would happen then? This playacting of hers, pretending to be a cook when she really wanted to get to know her dad, would be over.

  Hank pushed back his sheet and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Outside, the wind howled and the rain had gone from a patter against the glass to a drumroll. This was turning into a much wilder storm than the weather forecast had anticipated. He went to the window and shaded his eyes to look out. Tree branches whipped back and forth in the roiling wind and he heard a crack and a boom as lightning lit up the night sky. Tonight it was storming, and tomorrow all would be still...

  This was how life worked. Storms could pass. Passion could simmer back down again. If he waited long enough, he could return to his regular routine and forget about whatever had him so fixated on Avery. Would Mr. Harmon be happy at the news? Would Avery’s connection to this place be at an end? It might very well be that an introduction would be enough for her, at least for the next few years. She’d been raised by her mother and hadn’t even known her father’s name, after all. One thing was certain, when she spoke with Mr. Harmon the next day, everything would change. And that certainty put an ache into the center of his chest.

  Hank turned on the TV, which was already on the weather channel. The banner at the bottom of the screen announced high wind warnings for their county. Yeah, that was obvious. The wind buffeted the house with hammering rain. He should probably take a quick look around the main buildings to make sure everything was okay.

  He sighed and looked around for his jeans. His cell phone rang and he snatched it up from his bedside table. For a split second he wondered if it would be Avery, but when he looked at the number, it was his boss
. He felt a snag of disappointment.

  “Hello, sir,” Hank said, picking up. “Everything okay?”

  “Hank, the wind is bad out there—have you been out?”

  “Just on my way to do a check, sir.”

  “I can save you the time. I just got back and it’s shaken loose the shingles on the hay barn roof. Peeled them right back and they flew off. We’ve got rain pouring in there!”

  That would mean that their store of dry hay was getting drenched. Wet hay would rot, and their hay stock would be useless. This was an emergency.

  “I’m on it, boss,” Hank said, grabbing his jeans as he spoke. “I’ll wake up the guys and we’ll get to work.”

  “Thanks, Hank.”

  Hank didn’t wait for a goodbye, but hung up and shoved his feet into the legs of his jeans. There was no time to waste. With all the ranch hands working together, they’d still be at this for most of the night. But that was part of the job on a ranch.

  Five minutes later and fully dressed, Hank plunged into the storm. A rain slicker and his hat would have kept him dry if it weren’t for the howling, driving wind. Thunder rumbled and there was another crack of lightning. It was going to get worse before it got better.

  He jumped into his truck and turned the key. As the engine rumbled to life, his mind was already shooting ahead to the job. He needed two teams—one covering the exposed hay with tarps, and the other working on a patch for the roof. They could fix it properly after the storm passed. The men would be working hard for several hours, and they’d be hungry, which meant they needed Avery in the kitchen whipping up some snacks and hot coffee to keep them going.

  The storm had turned the gravel road into mud, and as his tires hit a pothole, the whole vehicle lurched. His wipers whipped back and forth, and he could see the heaving, bending trees in the beams of his headlights.

  The cows would be all right. They’d press together for warmth and safety, find some shelter in the tree lines. It was the hay that worried him, and the barn that housed the sick and injured animals. Those were the top priority.

  When he arrived at the bunkhouse, he parked as close as he could to the front door. The wind blew the door hard against him and he grunted with the effort of just getting out of his truck. Rain whipped straight past the brim of his hat and into his face. By the end of this night, he’d be drenched to the bone. He pulled open the bunkhouse’s front door and let it bang shut behind him. It was warm inside, and he could hear the rain pounding on the roof overhead.