by Tawny Weber
“Better yet, drive out there. It’ll be harder for him to say no face-to-face.” Rachel smiled. “I can give you directions.”
“Good.” Beth would still call. She’d never cared for that business of just showing up on someone’s doorstep uninvited. Though she’d end up at his ranch whether he said yes or no.
Nine years working all over the globe as a corporate meeting planner had taught Beth tact, grace and the art of persuasion. She’d be damned if Blackfoot Falls was going to teach her patience.
* * *
NATHAN LANDERS JOINED his foreman at the corral fence. “What do you think of him so far?”
“The kid’s got grit, I’ll tell ya that,” Woody said, his gaze glued to the young man stroking the mare’s neck.
“He get on her yet?”
“Twice, and ended up with a mouthful of dirt both times.”
That didn’t surprise Nathan. He’d known the horse wouldn’t be easy when he bought her. She’d taken the bridle just fine, and the bit hadn’t seemed to bother her. But she sure hadn’t liked being saddled.
He watched Brian give the mare’s neck a final stroke, then slowly fit his booted foot into the stirrup. With impressive grace, the kid swung into the saddle.
For a moment the mare just stood there, almost as if in shock that the fool had climbed on again. The second it wore off she burst into motion, rearing up on her back legs, then twisting and bucking. Nathan and Woody both moved back when the mare came close to the fence, trying to brush the kid off.
She bucked a few more times, then came down hard, lifting her hindquarters and sending Brian over her head. He hit the dirt in a cloud of dust and with a string of cusses. The kid was only eighteen, and easily sprang to his feet. The mare eyed him warily and shied to the other end of the corral.
Woody yanked off his hat and waved away the dust. “He ain’t bashful about getting right back on.”
Nathan nodded. He’d heard that Brian was good with animals, and he’d obviously already passed the test or Woody would’ve sent him on his way by now. “I’m assuming you want to hire him.”
“Up to you, boss.” Woody scratched his balding head, then slapped the battered tan Stetson back on.
Nathan just smiled. He might own the Lucky 7 but very little was up to him anymore. Woody Knudsen held the reins when it came to the cattle operation. Ever since Anne’s death, Nathan had lost interest. He still kept abreast of what was going on, met with the accountant quarterly and signed the checks, but the daily stuff was all Woody’s.
Now, the two Arabians that Nathan had recently purchased were a different story. He still had a lot to learn about breeding them, but at least the idea sparked some life inside him. Three years was a long time to feel nothing.
“Bad time to be hiring with winter coming, but I say we bring him on.” Woody propped his arms on the fence while he watched Brian go another round with the stubborn mare. “You’re gonna need help with those Arabians at some point. Might as well see what the kid’s made of.”
Nathan should’ve known this was about Woody looking out for him. Woody had worked on Nathan’s parents’ ranch as a wrangler and eventually the foreman. He’d been there for Nathan’s first step and when he’d climbed onto his first horse. And when Nathan had returned from college full of determination and too much ego, dead set on turning his own meager seven acres into one of the largest ranches in northern Montana, Woody had never doubted him.
Much as Nathan loved his parents—good, salt-of-the-earth, hardworking people—he hadn’t seen the faith in their eyes that he had in Woody’s. Now, at the wiser age of thirty-four, Nathan understood they’d had reason to be skeptical. But that took nothing away from Woody’s unwavering support.
“He might wanna start right away,” Woody said. “Unless you have a problem with that.”
“Nope.” Nathan used his sleeve to blot the sweat on his forehead, then readjusted his Stetson. October mornings and evenings were nice and cool, but the direct afternoon sun could still be sweltering some days.
“You expecting company?” Woody stared past him toward the driveway.
Only if hell had frozen over. Nathan turned and saw the small blue pickup. It was too far away to see who was driving, though it didn’t matter. He hadn’t invited anyone, and folks who knew him knew better than to show up without being asked.
A minute later he saw a woman behind the wheel wearing sunglasses, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She parked the truck close to the bunkhouse where the men kept their vehicles, then climbed out. Her legs were long, her jeans tight and she was wearing funny-looking boots.
“You know her?” Woody asked, squinting against the sun’s glare.
Nathan shook his head, not that Woody noticed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the woman. Working in front of the east barn, Scotty and Justin stopped fueling the ATVs to watch her walk across the gravel. Even Big John pulled his head out from under the hood of the bale retriever. If that wasn’t enough of a shock, since the guy had no use for women since his divorce, he grinned at her.
“Did you see that?” Woody muttered, brushing the dust off his shoulders when she veered toward them.
She wasn’t dressed to call attention to herself, not in that oversize blue T-shirt, but she got it all the same. It was those legs. Damn, they were long. She had to be about five-nine, even without those silly boots. And she had just enough sway in her hips to fire up a man’s pulse without letting him think he was being played. But a woman who looked like her? Who was used to men staring and not being bothered by it? Nathan had a feeling she knew what she was doing. Woody thought Nathan was cynical when it came to women, implied he was getting to be as bad as Big John. Nathan just hadn’t forgotten how complicated they were.
“Hi,” she said as she got closer, putting her hand out and smiling at Woody. “Mr. Landers? I’m Bethany Wilson.”
“No, ma’am, I’m Woodrow Knudsen.” He yanked off his hat. “You can call me Woody, same as everyone else.”
Nathan folded his arms across his chest, though she hadn’t even glanced at him. He’d finally realized who she was, right before she’d given her name.
Her smile stayed in place, and so did her extended hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Woody.”
He dragged his palms down the front of his grungy Levis. “Ma’am, I’m awfully grimy.”
“So am I.” She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and inspected the dark smudges on her hand. “How rude of me not to have checked first. I’m sorry,” she said with a soft laugh. “It’s stain from yesterday, so it wouldn’t have rubbed off on you. It doesn’t seem to want to come off at all.”
“Paint thinner ought to do the trick,” Woody said, grinning so hard you could see where his back teeth were missing. He noticed Nathan watching him and sobered, clearing his throat. “This here is Nathan Landers.”
“Oh.” She turned to him and blinked, surprise flickering in her face. Her gaze went to his mouth and jaw, then slid up to his eyes. “I didn’t—” She smiled again. “Mr. Landers, I’m Beth—”
“I heard you the first time.” He kept his arms folded. “What is it that you want, Ms. Wilson?”
Her eyes narrowed, assessing him, her poise unshaken. “I left you two voice mails. I have the feeling you got them.”
“I did.”
“And had you wanted to talk to me, you would’ve returned my calls,” she said very matter-of-factly.
“Sounds about right.”
“What calls?” Woody asked, looking confused and peeved. “I thought you didn’t know her.”
He wasn’t up to dealing with Woody’s disapproval just because she was a woman. She hadn’t been invited, period. “Go hire the kid,” Nathan said, jerking his head toward the corral. “Let him start when he wants and pay him for today.”
When Woody didn’t move, Nathan frowned at him.
“First off,” Woody said, jamming his hat back on his head. “I reckon I know how to handle a new hire.
And second, I ain’t gonna interrupt him in the middle of breaking that mare.”
Beth had turned her gaze to the corral. It wasn’t just her legs that had drawn his interest...she had pretty eyes, he’d give her that, too. They were kind of green with flecks of gold and brown. When she cringed and put a hand to her throat, he turned to see what had caused her alarm.
Brian had taken another trip over the mare’s head and landed on his ass in the dirt. The kid cussed like a veteran. Woody chuckled and even Nathan smiled a little.
“Wow,” Beth said. “Is this how you interview people? Good way to get free labor.”
“What’s that?” Woody obviously didn’t understand her jab, but Nathan did, and he sure didn’t appreciate it.
“Well, Ms. Wilson,” he said, tugging down the rim of his Stetson to block the sun. “I’m sorry you made the drive out here for nothing. You should’ve taken the radio silence as a clue.”
She stared at him, her lips parting. “Wait. Can’t we talk about it?”
Nathan had started to turn for the house but stayed right where he was, his gaze lingering on her mouth. The shape and lushness of her lips went straight to the plus column, right under eyes and legs. A stiff breeze stirred stray wisps of fine blond hair around her flushed face and molded the T-shirt to her breasts. They weren’t small. The damn plus column was getting too crowded.
“Talk about what?” Woody looked back and forth between them. “Hells bells, Nathan, do you know what this is about?”
“The lumber we had delivered this morning. Ms. Wilson seems to think there’s a mix-up.”
“Not exactly. Jorgenson gave you my shipment and he’s making me wait for the next one. I know you’ve been a customer forever and I’m new to Blackfoot Falls, but it was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that. I’m not implying it’s your fault. Or your problem.” She stopped for a quick breath. “I’ve had trouble getting workers, but I finally have two guys coming to my place tomorrow morning. But without the lumber...” She shrugged, her gaze flickering to Woody, then back to Nathan. “If you don’t need it right now, or if there’s any way you can wait until Friday...”
Her voice faded along with the hope in her eyes.
“Well, shoot, Jorgenson had no call to do something like that to such a pretty thing,” Woody said, and boy, did she not like that comment.
Her shoulders went back, her lips thinned. Then she must’ve realized the old guy hadn’t meant anything and she gave him a small smile. “It’s bad business. And please, believe me, I know it’s not your problem. I do. If you can’t spare the lumber I’ll get back in my truck and leave. You won’t hear from me again.”
They didn’t need the order for a couple of months. Nathan knew it and so did Woody, who was glaring at him. And for no reason. No, he didn’t like her showing up because he hadn’t returned her calls. But he didn’t like that Jorgenson had screwed her either.
And Nathan sure as hell didn’t like watching her nibble that tempting lower lip and stare back at him. He didn’t have time for this crap. He had business in the stables. “Go ahead, Woody, do whatever you think is best.”
“That’s for you to decide, Nathan,” Woody said in an ornery tone. “I got a new man to hire.” He found another grin for Beth and even puffed out his chest some. “He’ll do right by you, ma’am.” He stopped midturn. “By the way,” he added, his gruff voice gentled. “What you saw wasn’t free labor. It was a test. Nathan won’t hire a man who goes for a whip. Nice meeting you.”
“Woody—”
Ignoring him, Woody hustled to the other side of the corral, his old bowlegs moving faster than Nathan would have thought possible.
He looked at Beth. Embarrassment stained her cheeks, making her eyes greener. She was still worrying that damn bottom lip.
“I’m so sorry. I was joking about the free labor. It wasn’t funny,” she murmured.
“Take the lumber.”
“Thank you,” she said, and caught his hand when all he’d meant to do was wave her toward the barn. She pressed her soft palm to his work-roughened one and shook. “Thank you so much.”
She had some grip. He flexed his hand, trying to get her to let go. Touching her was a mistake. Man, did he not need this. Something was different about this woman. And deep down he knew...hell, he’d known even before he’d seen those long legs and sexy eyes that she was going to be trouble. The alarm bells had gone off the moment he’d heard her sweet, husky voice on his voice mail.
For three years he’d been fine, a certain part of his life had become manageable. And now she was making him think about sex. It wasn’t just a small tug either. She’d cursed him with one of those itches that couldn’t be taken care of in the shower. Right now what he wanted was down-and-dirty, hot, sweaty, honest-to-goodness, sheet-tangling sex.
That was why he needed her gone.
The sooner, the better.
Copyright © 2014 by Debbi Quattrone
ISBN-13: 9781460338544
A SEAL’S FANTASY
Copyright © 2014 by Tawny Weber
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