Her lips were tight as he escorted her in, and even tighter when they were seated at the table. Her scowl spoke volumes when reading over the menu.
She threw down the laminated sheet and reached for her glass, only to stare harder at a lipstick stain left by some other patron. Disgust crossed her face. “You don’t belong here.”
“The food is usually decent.” Embarrassed, Greg put his menu down.
“No. Here, like, in this town. In that job. You’re too good for this place.” She examined her paper napkin before opening it and draping it over her lap.
“It’s what I’ve got to work with at the moment,” Greg said, trying to maintain his confidence. It wasn’t easy. She was shooting holes in everything he’d worked hard to accomplish. When a guy started from nothing, reaching up to paradise took some time.
“Why haven’t you gone somewhere else and started there? You’re good enough. I’ve seen all kinds of ranch hands, and you’re way better.”
Greg shrugged. “I hadn’t had any reason to move on, I guess.”
“What if I gave you one?” A smug smile crossed her face as Jerry, the crazy-eyed waitress with badly dyed, orange hair sidled up to their table.
“What’ll ya have?” she growled.
“Just the green salad,” Paige answered. “What kinds of dressings do you have?”
“Ranch. Blue cheese. Thousand Island. Some kinda mustard.” Jerry stared down and to the side at the same time. She braced her gnarled hand on the bent green pad.
“That’s it?” Paige asked condescendingly. “You don’t have any vinaigrettes?”
“Ranch. Blue cheese. Thousand Island. Some kinda mustard,” Jerry repeated blandly.
Paige blinked and looked away. “Blue Cheese will be fine.”
“That it?” Jerry asked, not bothering to write anything down.
Paige used her middle finger to wipe something on her temple, an unconscious reaction that showed exactly what she was thinking. Jerry either didn’t notice, or more likely, did not care. “That’ll be all, yes.”
“I’ll have the New York strip, please, Jerry,” Greg said before Jerry could look at him. He could never tell which eye to look at.
“Medium-rare?” she asked.
“Yes, please.” Greg asked Paige, “Would you like some wine.”
Paige’s look of utter disgust spoke volumes. “No, that’s okay. I’ll stick with water. In another glass.” She pushed the glass toward Jerry without raising her eyes to look at the woman.
“A Bud for me, then, Jerry. Thank you.”
Jerry grunted and moved away.
“I have no idea why she carries that pad everywhere,” Greg noted humorously. “I have never seen her write anything down. Christie always orders—”
“I was asking you,” Paige interrupted. She leaned forward, suddenly more animated. “What if you did have a reason to move on?”
“Like what?”
“Well…I should wait to tell you this until I know you a little better, but…” She let out a noisy breath and smiled in excitement. “I talked to Daddy. I told him about the job you’re doing, and where you started—you know, how fast you’ve risen—and he was impressed. He thinks highly of that ranch, even though it’s small.” She rolled her eyes. “But he thinks there could be a place for you with us.”
Her eyes sparkled as brightly as her bleach white teeth.
“I have everything here, though…” he said hesitantly. “I don’t want to start over again.”
“No.” She looked at him like his head was made of bricks. “Daddy is prepared to offer you an assistant ranch manager position if you’re as good as I say you are. Which, obviously, you are. So you’d be getting a raise, and way more money. I mean, I don’t know exactly what you make now, but Daddy had a guess, and you’d make three times that with him.”
The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as shivers raked his skin. He’d worked so hard in his life to hear something like that. It was a dream, handed to him on a silver platter by a very pretty girl.
Jerry banged the beer down on the table in front of him and asked Paige something, but he didn’t hear. His mind went to what he could do with all that money. Not only would he be able to afford a better house with more room, maybe even one Paige would be happy to be seen in, but he could move his mother in, too. He could finally look after her properly instead of hoping he could cover everything she needed.
His mind went to what he’d be missing, thinking about Mike and Sara first, Jake and the ranch, and then slowly, finally, to Christie. His stomach clenched and his fists tightened, trying to buffer against the pain. She had said goodbye, and this would be his returning farewell.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, looking at the condensation on the outside of his beer. “I have everything here. This is my home.”
“I told Christie you wouldn’t go for it. Oh well. It was worth asking.”
Greg’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
“Oh.” Paige waved the subject away. “I mentioned it the other night after we went out, and she told me to tell you. She thinks you should go.”
“She told you this?” he asked suspiciously.
An innocent expression crossed her face. “Yes, ask her. She thought it would be good for you.”
That did sound like something she would say. And given what she’d said today, it was hard to think she’d suddenly change her tune.
Greg uncomfortably shrugged it off. “I don’t know. I’d have to talk to your father, and learn more about the job, and…”
“Want me to call him right now?” Paige reached for her handbag.
“No, no.” He waved his hands at her. “Settle down, little doggie. I can’t make life decisions on an empty stomach.”
Paige’s shoulder ticked upwards as she dropped her phone back into her bag. “Well think about it. We have some time before we need to make any decisions.”
Shivers coated him for a second time, but for an entirely different reason. One circling around her use of we.
Chapter 9
Christie rubbed her tired eyes before blinking down at her schedule. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. What she’d said to Greg made her stomach churn with guilt. First she told him things he had no business knowing, then she might as well have slapped him in the face. Even if she wasn’t that into him, there were other ways to tell him that. Her point-blank, firing squad approach had been cruel. And untrue.
She’d thought about calling him, then about finding him to explain in person. To apologize. But Paige hadn’t gone to the staff dinner, nor had she returned to the room before Christie’s bedtime.
There had been no goodnight text from Greg.
The only consolation was that Paige had been there when Christie had woken up.
Wiping her face, she attempted a smile. Nope. Not feeling it. She didn’t have any reserve happy to pull out, and she didn’t feel like faking it. Not getting that text…had hurt. It left a hole in her routine. A black spot on her normally balanced evening. She didn’t know when she’d come to depend on it, but somewhere along the way, that one thoughtful gesture from Greg had made the nights more bearable. It had chased away some of the shadows that lurked in her solitude.
And now she’d chased him away.
“Hey, Christie—whoa. What’s wrong?” Pete stopped a few feet from her with wide eyes. He held up his hands and stretched his foot behind him, ready to backpedal.
“Nothing. What’s up?” She glanced around, realizing she had stopped paying attention and walked way off course.
“You’ve got—” He shook his pointed finger at her face. “Are those tears? Do you…” Eyes still wide, he finished that step backwards. “Do you need a hug?”
“You’re going the wrong way if I did.” She laughed and wiped her nose. “Nah. I was thinking about a sad movie. What do you need?”
He exhaled in relief and his whole body bowed with the effort. “Good. Phew. I am not good wi
th crying girls. I had brothers.”
And no girlfriends, Christie bet. “So…?”
“Oh.” He scratched his head and looked down at his schedule. At least she wasn’t the only one with memory problems. “I’m supposed to help out with a trail ride, but I’m also supposed to help Mike tie knots for a demonstration. Sara had to go to a doctor’s appointment. She said to have you take the ride since you like to ride horses.”
“Don’t you like horses?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know how to make fancy knots.”
She had no idea why he’d want to learn, either. “Got it.” Christie squinted down at her schedule. “I thought I had something right now…”
“Then where are you going?”
Christie looked around again. “Originally… Right!” She snapped. “Dinner. I was going to double-check on the ingredients. Ethel likes to suddenly go blind when she enters the pantry.”
“Oh. Well can you fit in the ride?” He stepped to her side and held his schedule alongside hers, comparing notes.
“When is it? Now?”
“In twenty minutes. I was supposed to find you this morning but I forgot.”
Christie attempted to huff out a smile. Instead she just blew air at her schedule. “Right. Okay, sure. Where to?”
“West stalls. Greg is there.”
Christie jerked in surprise, stepping away as if Pete had suddenly caught fire. Her foot caught a rock and made her stumble into a low-lying branch. She waved her hands in front of her face, warding off the leaves, while trying to veer back onto the path.
“Jeez. You’re clumsy.” Pete scrunched his brow at her when she reemerged and then started walking away. “Gotta go. Thanks.”
“What happened to Noah?” Christie called. She’d thought Noah did the trail rides on Fridays.
Pete threw a wave behind him and continued to bustle along. He either didn’t hear her, or thought a random wave was answer enough.
With a sinking gut, she trudged toward the stables and found Noah leaning against the barn wall, chatting with a couple of the other ranch hands. She walked up and offered a wave. “Hey guys. What’s happening?”
Noah straightened up as the other guys fell silent. “Hey, Christie. What brings you around these parts?”
“Workin’.” She rocked backwards and forwards to expel some nervous energy.
Noah’s brow furrowed. He reached behind him and dragged out a schedule.
“What did we all do without Sara?” Christie laughed. The smile fell from her face as Greg came around the corner.
Tall and thick with muscle, he moved like a prize boxer before a fight. His wide shoulders swayed with his movement and his powerful strides ate the ground. His beautiful eyes zeroed in on her a moment before his brow furrowed like Noah’s. He reached behind him just as Noah had done, his shirt going taut across his muscular chest.
Looking at that chiseled face, his deliciously cut body and his dramatic eyes, Christie’s mouth dried up and her body smoldered. Had he always been that handsome? Where the hell had she been?
“Hey, man.” She hooked her thumbs into her belt loops like a dope and tried to appear nonchalant.
“Says Pete is taking your slack,” Noah said, comparing his schedule with Greg’s. He looked up at Christie. “And before Sara, we all forgot half the time, were late all the time from checking the board, and were completely disorganized. Now we’re only mostly disorganized and late some of the time.”
“Why are you here?” Greg’s gaze dug into her head, traveled through her body, and then nailed her soles to the ground.
She peeled her tongue off the roof of her mouth where it had lodged. “Pete is covering for Sara so I am covering for him. And before you ask, Sara organized all of this. I was only told a couple minutes ago.”
“You don’t have anywhere to be?” Greg’s hard tone and suspicious eyes set insecurity raging through her.
She bit her lip, withering under the commanding stare she was not used to. “N-no. Not for a few hours. I don’t have to prep, I just have to c-cook.”
A confused grin spread across Noah’s face as he stared at her. She wanted to kick him. She didn’t know why she was nervous, she just was! She’d never seen this boss side of Greg before. It was disorientating, and quite frankly, a little hot.
Who was she kidding? A lot hot.
Greg folded up his schedule and neatly tucked it into his back pocket. He shook his head a fraction and was about to say something when he paused. Frustration came over his expression before he looked back at the barn. His shoulders slumped, something in him became resigned to whatever had gone through his head.
She wished she could read his mind as easily as she could read his body.
“Fine. Meet me over there.” Greg jerked his chin toward his shoulder.
Maybe she couldn’t read him all that well after all, because she had no idea which way that meant. “Just over…” she backed away and then stepped right. “Here-ish? Like…more this way?”
Greg’s hint of a smile ate through his hard expression. “Just wait there.”
“Yup. No problemo.”
“When did you become such a nerd?” Noah asked with a cheeky grin.
That was a good question—Christie didn’t know.
“You all set?” Greg asked Noah.
“Yup. Horses are ready and most of the riders are over on the benches.”
Greg looked over the three guys standing there and glanced toward Richard, who was walking up at a fast pace.
“Christie,” Richard said in a gush. “Thank God I found you. I overheard Ethel telling Florence that they don’t have any more corn—they didn’t come in the shipment. She said she’s going to use peas unless she hears from you. But I know you hate altering your menu if you don’t have to, so I thought I would tell you.”
Anger rose up until it simmered. It was the first night she was going to do a whole menu, so of course those two jerks would try to sabotage her. She looked at Greg, trying to come up with a way that she could run to the big house, give some orders, and then come back, all in ten minutes.
“I don’t need you. We don’t have many.” Greg shot an imperceptible glance at the others before he took a step away. “If you gotta go.”
A pang flicked her heart, hating the way he was treating her. It wasn’t like him. But yet, she’d stomped on the guy’s expectations, so what did she expect, really?
Tears rose up, unbidden, half from frustration, half from his words scraping against her heart. She scratched her nose to hide her face before looking at the ground.
Regardless of their drama, she still wanted to ride a horse.
Blinking away the moisture, she held her ground. “No. They should be able to do their job without me holding their hands.” To Richard she said, “Tell them that I personally checked the store of corn. They are in the vegetable pantry where they should be. If Ethel can’t find them, then you go pull them out, Richard, and you slam them on the counter. If they still give you flak, you call my cell and I’ll—”
“You have to turn your phone off while on the horses, Christie.” Greg’s tone was low and apologetic.
“Okay. That’s fine.” Christie’s mind flew, going over everything she could possibly do that would succeed in scaring the life out of those ridiculous cooks. Settling on a tactic Sara often used, she bluffed. “Then tell them that if they don’t get their shit in order, and prep my menu exactly as I laid it out, I’ll speak to my best friend Sara, the Operations Manager, and my other best friend Jake, the Ranch Manager, and I will see their asses out in the street. So help me God, I can be a vindictive bitch when I need to be, and I will set them up for a fall if they cross me. You tell them that, Dick, and if it doesn’t put the fear of God in them…try harder.”
“Oorah,” one of the ranch hands grunted.
Christie didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded manly, and so she nodded.
“Got that, Dick?” The other ran
ch hand that Christie didn’t know leaned toward Richard suggestively, his smile cruel.
Before Christie could defend the smaller man, knowing that they all loved to pick on him, Greg stepped forward and ripped the ranch hand backwards. The guy staggered, nearly losing his balance.
“What the fuck, Gibson?” The guy dusted off his clean shirt.
To Richard, Greg said, “Go. Hurry up.”
“Okay. Yes, sir.” Richard gave Christie a determined look and started running.
When Greg turned to the other ranch hand, it was slow and purposeful. Authority radiated in the straightness of his back and the confidence in his bearing. For a full beat, he did nothing but stare, his eyes simmering with the anger Christie had felt herself a moment before.
“You got a problem with Richard helping Christie get this done?” Greg asked in a raspy voice that had tingles bubbling up Christie’s spine.
“What—” The ranch hand visually swallowed. “Why, ‘cause I called him Dick? Even she called him that. What’s the big deal?”
“She’s friendly with him. And she didn’t threaten him.” Greg squared his shoulders to the much thinner guy and braced, all his muscle giving a clear indication of who would win in a fight.
“I wasn’t threatening him—I was having a little fun. Where’s your sense of humor?”
“I’m the boss. I haven’t got a sense of humor.” Greg pointed at him. “You remember that if you ever want to try your hand at comedy. You’ll find your ass next to Florence and Ethel, unemployed.”
It might’ve sounded a bit silly, but with Greg’s dangerous tone, no one was snickering.
The ranch hand was visibility deflated. “Yeah, sure. Sorry about that, boss.”
“Does this mean we shouldn’t tease him?” Noah asked in a submissive tone.
“You can tease him in jest, but keep it light. Use your heads.” Greg turned and held his arm out to the side, corralling Christie in front of him. “Let’s go. We have a little man waiting.”
“A little man?”
Conquering Love Page 10
