by Day Leclaire
A deep frown creased Holt's brow. Slowly he shook his head. "Sorry. There's a dozen dudes scheduled to arrive next week and I need a wrangler who can carry his weight."
"I can carry my weight," she insisted, forcing herself to meet his hard, unemotional gaze. "I can carry more than my weight if it means working on a ranch."
"Sorry, but I have to pass."
He turned to leave and Cami knew she'd better talk fast, or her job would be over before it ever started. "Is there anyone else you can get on such short notice? At least give me a chance until you've found a replacement."
"You have my answer," he said without slowing his gait. Something in his voice warned her to proceed with the utmost caution.
"If I haven't convinced you I can do the job by the end of those two weeks, I'll go. I'll even refund my wages."
"No." He kept walking.
It was all or nothing time. A few more steps and he'd be gone and so would her dreams. "Our contract provides for a two week unconditional trial period," she called after his retreating back. "I'm asking you to stand by your word and give me every minute of those two weeks."
She saw him hesitate and she played her final card, the one that in ages past would have gotten her a bullet in the gut. "Or don't you stick by your word? I thought a cowboy's honor meant everything to him."
That stopped him. Slowly he turned to face her. With a low, menacing growl, he snatched off his hat and buried it in the dust. "That tears it."
"Head for the hills, girl!" Gabby yelped. He hopped off the rail and loped toward Holt.
Deciding the foreman had offered a decent piece of advice, Cami did some rapid backpedaling. Suddenly the corral seemed a whole heck of a lot smaller. At the rate Holt advanced, she'd run out of retreating space real soon. Perhaps she shouldn't have played that last card with quite so much enthusiasm. "Um, Holt? Mr. Winston? Sir?"
He continued to stalk her. "You and me seem to have a small communication problem. I think it's time we cleared that up."
Gabby gained Holt's side and grabbed his arm. "Now take it easy, Holt."
"Yes. Let's take it easy," Cami agreed, with an urgent nod. "Very easy."
Holt shrugged off his foreman's hand. "Forget it."
"It was desperation talkin', not her," Gabby tried to convince his boss.
"Desperation," she said, tripping over her shiny new boots. "Absolutely. It was desperation."
Holt snagged a hunk of fringe and yanked her to a stop. "When I'm done with her, desperation won't do her talking ever again."
She stared in horror at his restraining hand and dug in her heels like the most ornery of mules, pushing against his pull. He let go and she stumbled, sprawling in the dust at his feet.
Petunia trotted over and shoved her muzzle into Cami's face. Cami shoved back. "Move aside, Petunia. He's gonna kill me, sure as I sit here. And I wouldn't care to have you caught in the crossfire."
Gabby danced at Holt's side. "She just wants to be a cowboy, is all. She didn't know what she was sayin'."
Cami frowned. Up until that moment, she'd been in complete accord with Gabby. Now she wasn't so certain. "Wait a minute," She scowled up at the two men. "If he's going to kill me, I intend to die for the right reason. I did mean what I said. I meant every word. True, desperation encouraged me to say it. But we signed an agreement, and I intend to make him stick to it."
"What? You... He... I..." Gabby sputtered to a halt and folded his arms across his chest. "I give up, boss. Go ahead. Shoot her."
Good, old Texan cussedness came to the fore. "Not until I've had my say." She pushed dark curls away from her face and spoke from the heart. "For my entire life, all I ever wanted was to be a cowboy like my poppa. I was born on a ranch. If my poppa hadn't died, I'd have been the sixth generation to grow up on Greenbush land. I know I'm a mite clumsy right now, but give me a chance. That's all I'm asking. You won't be sorry."
"I'm already sorry." Holt spoke roughly, but she sensed his anger fading. He reached down and held out his hand. "Come on, Tex. As much as the thought appeals, I'm not going to shoot you. Leastwise, not today."
She took his hand and stood. "Can we come to some sort of compromise? You want a wrangler and I want a job. By the end of two weeks, I'm willing to bet we'll both be satisfied."
He mulled over her words. His gaze, hard and stern and unrelenting, met hers. "I need a wrangler who can groom horses."
"No problem."
"Ever do it?"
"Nope. But I'm strong and I'm determined and I've never been afraid of backbreaking work. You show me how, and it'll get done."
"I also need someone who can saddle a horse and stay on it while riding."
"I guarantee, Petunia and I will come to terms."
"I believe you, Tex. But that still leaves me short a wrangler who can handle cows and knows how to rope."
She spoke with certainty. "Give me those two weeks and you'll have all that. Otherwise, I'm gone without a word of complaint."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You expect to learn everything in two weeks?"
"Just watch me." She peered at him anxiously. "Does this mean I can stay?"
Gabby grabbed Holt's arm and muttered, "No sense in turning away help, incompetent though it may be. Get some work out of her for all your time and trouble. Tomorrow you can phone around for a replacement."
Holt still didn't seem convinced. "Give me one good reason why I should let you stay," he said to Cami.
"I'll give you three. I like people and I like animals." She threw her arms around Petunia's neck. "And they like me."
Petunia snorted and swung her head, knocking Cami back on her keister. "See?" Her dimples flashed. "The exception that proves the rule."
Gabby rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lord Almighty, have mercy. Cuz we're gonna need a heapin' helpin'."
"Amen," Holt concurred.
Chapter 3
The bedroom light switched on, practically blinding Holt. He sat up cursing. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.
"You awake?" Gabby whispered.
"I am now." Holt threw back his covers. It had to be serious for his foreman to rouse him from a sound sleep. "What's wrong?"
"I'll show you, if'n you give me a minute," Gabby muttered. "I'm gonna turn the light off, okay? See if you can get over to the window without breakin' something."
"Worry about yourself, old timer. I can make it just fine." The room went dark once more. Holt kicked his boots to one side and gained the window without barking his shin more than twice. Quite an achievement, considering his eyes were blurry slits and his brain hadn't sputtered to life.
"Now, real easy like, twitch that curtain apart," Gabby instructed, "and tell me what you see."
Holt looked and swore again. "Damnation, I don't believe it." He turned and glared at Gabby. "What time is it?"
"Four-thirty."
"Four-thirty? What the devil is she doing up at this hour?"
"Don't holler at me! You were the one who told her she better not be late on her first day of work." Gabby yanked at his mustache. "You also said, if'n she was, you'd fire her and t'hell with the contract. Those were your exact words. I'll fire you and t'hell with the contract.'"
"I remember, you old coot. You don't have to repeat it a hundred times." He glanced out at her again and winced. Moonlight spilled over Tex, encasing her in a cold silver glow. Did she have to look so lonely? So vulnerable? So female? And, damn it to hell, even from this distance she drew him on some level, making him wish he were close enough to watch the twitch and tremble of all those curls. To watch the way her blue, blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. To wonder if those dimples were going to take to winking at him. To lose himself counting all those bitty— Aw, shit.
He pulled back from the window as though escaping the gates of hell. "Late for work does not mean four-thirty and she damn well ought to know that. It's ridiculous. She's got Petunia saddled and everything."
"Petunia don't 'pear none too ha
ppy about it, neither. Not that I blame the poor horse." It was clear from Gabby's tone whom he did blame.
"I can't help it if the woman has a burr under her saddle about being a cowboy."
"Yes, you can." Gabby folded his arms across his chest. "She ain't gonna be happy and outta here till she shakes that burr loose. And you're just the man to help her do it."
The muscles tightened in Holt's jaw. "Fine. When I get up in another hour and a half, it'll be my pleasure to check her saddle blanket for burrs." Maybe other parts of her, too. "In the meantime, I'm going back to bed."
"And leave her shivering out there? Look at her. Even her hat's got goose bumps."
"Those aren't goose bumps," Holt said in disgust. "She's plucked some poor chicken bald and filled her hat up with more of those danged feathers."
Unable to resist, he peered through the window again and frowned. He hated it when Gabby was right. And this time he was very right. Tex shook so hard she could probably register as a minor earthquake. Didn't she have more sense than to stand there in that cold spring wind? He ought to open the window and blister her ears with a few home truths. That would warm her up. And then some.
"Look on the positive side," Gabby said, peeping around Holt's shoulder. "At least she'll leave a trail if she ever gets lost."
Holt returned to his bed and sat down. "So long as that trail heads east, I don't give a damn. Now get out of here and let me sleep."
"Now, now. Here's your boots."
"I don't wear boots to bed." His voice held a warning.
"You ain't goin' back to bed. You're goin' down to that little girl and teach her how to be a cowboy."
Holt glowered. "In case you hadn't noticed, she isn't a little girl. If your eyesight wasn't so bad, you'd be able to see that."
Gabby grinned. "I see jes' fine. You'd be amazed at how well I can see and just what it is I'm seeing."
"You're getting on my nerves, old man. You best fetch clothes for yourself, because I won't be going alone. You're coming with me." He shook out his boot and shoved his foot into it.
"At this hour? What are you, loco?"
"Not yet. But it won't take much more to get me that way. Two weeks with her and they'll have to put a rope around me and put me out to pasture because that's all I'll be good for."
"Well, until that fine day comes, you've got a job to do. And since you agreed to it of your own free will, you're stuck doing it all by your lonesome. You take care of Tex, and I'll take care of things around here."
"I might have agreed to it," Holt grumbled. "But I'm not so sure about the free will part. Ever since that female showed up, I've been doing things I swore I'd never do and saying things I swore I'd never say. She's trouble, I tell you."
"Dang tootin'!" A slight flush streaked across Gabby's weathered features. "You take one look at that long black hair and the silly dimples twitching in her cheeks and pow!" His fist connected with Holt's gut. "Gets you right there, don't it? Then she stares at you with those big blue eyes and you start to grinnin' and countin' those itty-bitty freckles perched on her nose and—"
Holt shot to his feet and glared at his foreman. "Never you mind those freckles."
Gabby held up his hands. "Take it easy. I didn't get far with 'em. Only up to fourteen. Why don't I go fix you a nice hot thermos of coffee?"
"Fine." Holt snagged his hat off the bedpost.
Gabby made his way over to the door and cleared his throat. "Feed some to Tex, okay?" he said, before beating a hasty retreat.
Smothering a curse, Holt crushed his hat down on his head and stomped from the room. Somebody would pay for his irritation. And he had a good idea who.
* * *
Cami shifted closer to Petunia, trying to absorb some of the horse's warmth. Lordy, it was cold. And dark. And lonely. She thought longingly of her bed. Another hour's sleep wouldn't go amiss, either.
Aw, quit your bellyachin'! This is what she'd waited for, the dream of a lifetime. A bit of cold weather wasn't going to keep her from being a cowboy. It might freeze her stiffer than a June bug in the Arctic, but it wouldn't stop her.
After a moment's hesitation, she unsnapped the rope from her saddle. A little practice while she waited wouldn't hurt anything. And it might warm her up. Now if she could only see what she aimed the rope at. She peered through the moonlit darkness.
"Wait here," she ordered Petunia, and moved off a few paces. No sense in roping her horse. Besides, she doubted this particular one would stand for it.
With a quick toss, she spun the rope over her head. That part, she had down pat. Now if she could get the throwing part figured out, she'd have it made. She gave the rope a few more practice twirls. Satisfied, she snapped her wrist back. Once again the rope sailed off behind her. Once again it snagged on something, refusing to reappear. And once again, Holt's sheepdog howled in anguish.
She turned and winced. "Tell me I didn't do that," she groaned, running to the animal's aid.
She dropped to her knees and gently loosened the rope. The sheepdog whimpered, shoving his cold, wet nose into her hand. "I'm real sorry, Git," she murmured, stroking his thick coat. "I hope you realize I didn't do it on purpose. I just can't get the hang of this roping business."
The dog gave her hand an encouraging lick, and with a quick apology for the delay she eased the rope off him. "Tell you what. Why don't you go stand over there by Petunia, and I'll try and rope something else."
The dog skulked toward the safety of the barn and Cami sighed. She couldn't keep roping that poor dog. She had to get this cowboying stuff right sometime soon, or she wouldn't meet Holt's criteria. And she had to succeed. She had to.
With renewed determination, she stood and walked to the middle of the yard. She tossed the rope into the air, spinning it in a smooth circle above her head. So far, so good. Now, a quick jerk of the wrist, and... To her exasperation, the rope flew off behind her and went taut. Something thudded to the ground and she heard the tinkling of shattered glass.
"You crazy female! What the hell do you think you're doing!"
Cami swiveled in her tracks. Lordy, lordy, lordy. She'd done it this time. She'd gone and lassoed her boss. And he seemed upset. Mighty upset. In fact, he appeared hotter than kerosene put to a match. Her gaze moved to the thermos rolling at his feet. Another casualty, if she didn't miss her guess.
"The thermos?" she asked. "It's broken?"
"Bingo, Tex," he practically snarled.
The porch light snapped on and Gabby stuck his nose out of the door. He took one look at the damage, yelped, "Head for the hills, girl!" and darted inside.
With a smothered exclamation, Holt grabbed a piece of the rope wrapped around him and gathered up the excess, reeling her in. He stopped once they stood toe-to-toe and brim-to-brim. "You broke my coffee!" His breath smoked the air between them.
"I didn't mean to. Honest." She swallowed. Who'd have thought his black eyes could get any blacker? Not her. "Holt. Mr. Winston. Sir."
"I don't take kindly to people who break my coffee. I need that coffee. That coffee's the only thing that keeps me civil at four-thirty in the morning. Fact is, it's the only thing that's going to keep me from strangling you. And. You. Broke it!"
Her head bobbed up and down. "Yessir, I did. I don't deny it for a minute." She stared at him earnestly. "Holt?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry," she said with heartfelt sincerity. "Real sorry."
"You... I..." He gritted his teeth and she watched, fascinated by the play of muscles across his jaw. "Apology... accepted," he finally bit out.
Heavens, he was a fine-looking man. Even angry, some undeniable essence drew her, spoke to her on a subconscious level. Did he feel it? Did he sense anything at all? She stared, captivated by the jet black eyes and the lock of gilded brown hair tumbling across his forehead. Every line of his face revealed the strength and determination and drive that personified the man.
No wonder her Momma had fallen in love with a cowboy. How coul
d you not? Everything about this type of man appealed. Granted, the fact she couldn't turn around without seriously ticking him off might be an issue. But that would change over the next two weeks. It might also cause a tiny problem. If she found him impossible to resist now with smoke curling from his ears, what would happen if he dared look at her with a different attitude? If he looked at her with longing? With hunger? With the sort of warmth and heat she saw slipping into his gaze?
"What's this?" His eyes narrowed and he cupped her chin, tilting her face upward. His brows drew together. "You're bruised." His thumb caressed her cheekbone.
Was that concern in his voice? "It's nothing." She shrugged off the injury, unable to shrug off her reaction to his touch as easily. It sparked a forbidden desire deep in her belly. A desire she had no business feeling toward her employer. "If it makes you feel any better, I've learned it's best not to land face first when you come off a horse." She gave him a tentative smile, relieved to see a glimmer of humor appear in the sooty depths of his eyes.
His head dipped lower, and he turned her face to better examine her cheek. His touch remained gentle, at odds with the hardness of the man. She fought to hide her reaction, struggling to identify it. Lust, she realized in astonishment. Even though she'd never experienced the emotion before, she had a strong suspicion that the urge to rip a man's clothes off and have her wicked way with him could probably be attributed to good, old-fashioned lust.
"You have bruises in less visible places?" he asked.
Her smile widened. Who knew one of the seven deadly sins could feel so utterly fantastic? "I might have a bruise or two in less visible places," she conceded, striving to conceal her lusty thoughts.
"Fair warning, you'll have even more before the week's over." His hand slid slowly from her face, leaving behind a trail of liquid fire. "I've got cream that'll help. Be sure you rub it in well."
"Thanks. I—"
The door banged open and instantly Holt stepped away from her. Gabby scampered down the porch steps. "I got you more coffee," he said, holding aloft a new thermos. "No real damage done." He helped untangle Holt from the rope and shoved it into Cami's hands. "Best get this put away," he muttered in her ear.
