Lazy B Ranch 00 California Cowboy

by Maggie Casper

  California Cowboy

  Maggie Casper

  Published 2005

  ISBN 1-59578-085-8

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235

  . Copyright © 2005, Maggie Casper. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://lsbooks.com

  Email:

  raven@lsbooks.com

  Cover Art

  by April Martinez

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Uncle William and Aunt Pearl who have worked, lived and loved on the real Lazy B Ranch for the past fifty years. I can’t wait for my next visit. Thank you for the memories. I love you both!

  Chapter One

  Clay Bodine dragged himself up the stairs of the Lazy B Ranch, pushing open the front door with a weary shove. It had been a long, hard day and he was more than ready for a hot meal and an even hotter shower.

  The smell of garlic and tomatoes hit him in a wave. It had to be Italian, and the scent permeated the air around him, making his stomach rumble. It had been a long hard day and he was more than ready for a hot meal and an even hotter shower.

  He was a bit surprised that his younger brother Chance would take the initiative and cook supper. Hell, neither one of them could cook for beans, so Clay had already planned on cold sandwiches or something similar until tomorrow. He knew he’d miss Mildred. Hell, the woman was more like family than a housekeeper and cook; he just didn’t realize how much until he and Chance spent several days in a row eating cold suppers. Now he couldn’t wait for her to come back from visiting her daughter.

  Grateful he wouldn’t be eating sandwiches for supper, Clay stripped as he climbed the stairs. When he was down to just his jeans, he grabbed a towel and headed to the end of the hall and a blissfully hot shower only to find the bathroom door locked; the sound of running water clear through the thick wood barrier.

  “Damn,” he mumbled heading back toward the stairs. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to eat whatever Chase had fixed them if he’d done it before showering. There were all sorts of dirt and grime a cowboy could collect by the end of a hard day's work, and he sure as hell didn’t want any of it near his food.

  He was making his way to the downstairs bathroom when he heard the clang of pots followed by soft humming coming from the kitchen. Curious, Clay took a detour through the dining room and stopped dead in his tracks on the kitchen threshold.

  A plump, denim-clad backside swayed mesmerizingly in front of him. The hips were attractively rounded and kept him in a trance-like state while they moved enticingly back and forth. The sound coming from the other end of the creature was smooth and mellow.

  Her hair was a fiery red and held haphazardly in place by one of those scrunchie things all the girls seemed to wear these days. There wasn’t a thing smooth or refined about her hair. It looked more like a mentally challenged bird had tried to build a nest in it.

  The stirring of his cock against the confines of his jeans jolted Clay out of his perusal of the woman in front of him. He wondered who she was and was a bit bemused to think he might have just been checking out a friend of Chance’s. At the same time though, something about her made him a bit tense. Chance had never brought a woman home before. At least not one who would be staying, and something about the woman with her head now stuck in the oven had permanent written all over her. She seemed way too comfortable in his kitchen, in his house.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, moving into the kitchen.

  When the woman shrieked and dropped a pan of what appeared to be lasagna onto the kitchen floor, Clay realized he’d probably gone about that the wrong way. Instead of turning on him in a fit of rage, the woman ran to the sink and thrust her arm under a stream of water, at the same time saying...

  “Bobbie. Bobbie Carlington. And you must be Clay. Chance has told me so much about you.”

  He recognized her name right away, only she was supposed to be a he. Clay scowled at the petite yet curvy woman and decided Chance had some explaining to do. It took a moment for the truth of who she was to sink in but by then, Clay noticed that there was a bright red spot blooming on Ms. Carlington’s forearm.

  “Oh hell! Let me see,” he insisted, moving forward to help.

  “I’m just fine, thanks. I don’t think it’ll blister, but I’m not sure we can salvage any of that,” she said, pointing to the mess on the kitchen floor.

  Kind of ironic, Clay thought to himself. Looked like he’d be eating sandwiches for supper after all. She turned to him and rested her small hand on his bare arm as she showed him her burn. The contact sent a bolt of desire straight to his groin, causing it to tighten unmercifully. He swiveled, hoping she hadn’t noticed the bulge in his pants, or his reaction to her.

  “I’ll get some salve for that,” he said as he stalked from the room toward the bathroom. He was going to kill Chance when he finally got his hands on him. He remembered Chance talking briefly about hiring a kid named Bobbie but he’d automatically thought Bobbie to be a boy; there sure in the hell was nothing boyish about this Bobbie.

  She had the most magnificent set of boobs he’d ever seen. They were large and round and real. There was nothing fake about them babies. They moved when she moved and even gave an extra jiggle when she stopped. Small was okay, and perky was nice. Hell, even fake would do in a pinch, but a pair of gals like the ones belonging to Bobbie Carlington were made for loving. The things he could do to them, to her, were probably illegal in many states.

  He threw his towel down on the closed toilet seat, grabbed the burn ointment out of the medicine cabinet, and strode back into the kitchen where Ms. Carlington was now down on her hands and knees. He was sure he was wrong, but it didn’t seem like she was cleaning the mess ... it seemed more like she was painting the floor with it.

  “Oh shit, hot, hot, hot,” she chanted quietly as she picked up a clump of the lasagna and threw it at the trashcan. Not one piece made it in the container, not that she cared, evidently, because she went right back to smearing it around.

  “Here, let me do that,” he said, and lifted her by the waist until she stood on her feet, staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. They were as green as emeralds and huge on her pale face.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t let you. I made the mess, I’ll clean it,” she said as turned her back to him and started to drop to her knees.

  His first reaction was of unrelenting arousal. If she’d been facing him, it would have been so easy to guide her hands to the buttons of his fly and then swiftly move on to the even better lesson of training her to suck his cock just how he liked.

  The only problem was that his second reaction, one of anger at having his orders ignored, took over. Grabbing her by the belt loop, Clay yanked until she was back firmly on her feet.

  “Hey! What the hell, buddy?” She was mad, her eyes flashing at him. At that moment he knew she was going to be trouble.

  “Put this on your burn. Now,” he commanded when she hesitated.

  “Well you’re just the bossy one aren’t ya,” she said, and moved away from him and the mess she had created.

  “That’s right, darlin’ and don�
��t you forget it. I’m the boss, what I say goes and the sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll be.”

  “Ya think so, huh?” she replied in a sarcastic voice as she left the room. Clay wasn’t sure whether to laugh or go after her and spank her sassy ass.

  * * * *

  Bobbie headed into the living room, her anger mounting. There was no one to blame but herself. Chance had warned her that Clay was a hard man, one used to getting his way. Only she’d not paid much attention to his words. After all, she was a nice person, friendly and easy to get along with. Why wouldn’t the man like her? He didn’t even know her.

  Bobbie wasn’t one to let her feelings show, mainly because she never let herself get close enough to anyone to have feelings one way or another. It was a concept she’d learned at an early age; the same reason she never planned to marry. There was no way she could see herself spending the rest of her life under the thumb of a man like her father. She shuddered at the thought.

  On the other hand, she could very well give some thought to spending some time under Clay Bodine. Thumb or any other body parts would work just fine, she thought with a giggle. The man was handsome as hell, tall and dark. His chocolate-brown eyes were intense. His wavy brown hair seemed a bit unruly, but it gave him a rakish look, a look any woman in her right mind would do a double-take for. And even if he was too dominant for her taste, it didn’t matter because she planned on using her eyes, not her hands or her mouth, or her...

  “All right! Get a grip, Bobbie,” she said aloud, chastising herself for her lewd thoughts.

  The front of her shirt was splattered with sauce and since she hadn’t been shown to a room yet, Bobbie proceeded to rummage through her single large suitcase right there on the living room floor.

  She’d just taken out a clean t-shirt when Chance made his way down the stairs.

  “Hey kiddo,” he greeted her, even though he wasn’t too much older than she was.

  “Oh, hi,” she said looking up as she closed the zipper on her luggage. “There was a problem with supper. I need to go change real quick and then I’ll figure something else out,” she told him as she climbed the stairs and made her way to the restroom at the end of the hall where Chance had told her it was.

  With her fresh shirt on, Bobbie took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves, and then made her way back to the kitchen. She could hear the men talking but thought nothing of it until she walked through the doorway and the room went so quiet you could hear the proverbial pin drop.

  “We’ll finish this later,” Clay said to Chance, a scowl on his face.

  Bobbie couldn’t help the flash of anger or stop the words before they tumbled from her mouth. “Real subtle. You want me to leave so you two gentlemen can finish talking about me?” She’d stressed the word gentlemen on purpose because in actuality, they were both acting like asses.

  “Sorry, Bobbie,” Chance said, his voice serious.

  “No problem,” she answered then turned to Clay, pinning him with her stare. “Thanks for cleaning up my mess.” Thanking him was the last thing she wanted to do, but he had cleaned it up, so it was only right that she thank him.

  “No problem,” he said mimicking her answer to Chance. He held her gaze, never wavering. “Now, we need to figure something out for supper.”

  * * * *

  Later that night, after cleaning up the hellacious mess they’d made in the kitchen, Bobbie let herself out the front door and onto the porch. She realized that she probably should have been more adamant when she’d told Chase that she knew next to nothing about cooking and had no idea where to start when it came to cleaning a big house. Her mom had always taken care of the house, and after the death of her parents she’d lived in a tiny studio apartment. If you could even call it that, she thought. It was smaller, more like a box than an actual room.

  When she’d met Chance Bodine at a horse auction in Oklahoma, she’d immediately felt at ease with him. He was easy to talk to and extremely friendly. Yet at the same time, she could tell you wouldn’t want him as an enemy. He could be ruthless when it came to business matters, as she’d had the opportunity to see first hand.

  He’d wanted Lady, her mare. It had been a sad day for Bobbie, but she’d held on to her composure. Mac McQuinn, her boss, was selling out and moving. The McQuinn Stables had been a part of her hometown for as long as she could remember and now, all of a sudden, she not only had to deal with the sale of her horse, but the loss of her job. And then Chance came along.

  The first time Chance had laid eyes on her he’d just stood there and stared. It had been very unnerving to be looked at like that. If anyone was aware of her flaws, it was Bobbie herself. Her hair was too red, her eyes too big, and God only knew she had more curves than one woman should be burdened with. Then he’d talked to her, putting her at ease, and over the next few days they’d come to an agreement.

  Bobbie was to travel with Lady from Oklahoma to California where she would have a job as a housekeeper, room and board included, and be able to ride Lady whenever she wanted. Knowing that Lady would no longer belong to her had been hard, but being offered the chance of a lifetime as well as the option of staying with Lady was much more than she had ever hoped for. So she’d given up her studio apartment, transferred the address where she could receive her correspondence college courses, and headed west to sunny California.

  “Hey, you okay?” a voice asked from behind her.

  “What? Oh yea, I’m fine, just a bit tired I guess,” she answered Chance.

  “Well then, let’s get you settled in so you can get some rest. The days tend to start early around here,” he said as he opened the door for her.

  He grabbed her suitcase, lifting it as if it weighed nothing, and then proceeded up the stairs. The hard wood floors were spic-and-span clean, not a speck of dust in sight. The narrow carpet running the length of the hall was done in browns with some deep red interspersed--it was beautiful and made her wonder why the Bodines needed a housekeeper.

  “Here you go, Bobbie,” Chase opened the door and set her suitcase just inside.

  “Thanks, and I’m sorry I made such a mess about supper. I’ll try harder tomorrow, okay?” Try was all she could promise since there was no way she could turn into a chef overnight.

  “No problem. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and then moved down the hallway toward another door.

  Bobbie entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her, which threw her into darkness. With one hand she held onto the knob so she wouldn’t get lost in the dark, and felt around on the wall for the light switch with the other. When she finally found it, it sent a shockingly bright light throughout the room. She stood there for a moment, blinking back the harsh light until her eyes adjusted and she could see her new room.

  The room was done in blues and was utterly feminine, making Bobbie wonder who it belonged to. The carpet was plush beneath her sandal-clad feet. She longed to take off her shoes and wiggle her toes across its surface but decided that would have to wait.

  She noticed two other doorways, one on each side of the room. Bobbie did a real quick eeny, meeny, miny, moe to choose which door to investigate first. The one she chose didn’t open into a closet as she had thought it would. Instead it opened into a full bathroom, a beautiful bathroom with a corner shower to die for. She could see the dual showerheads through the clear glass and a shiver of anticipation went through her at the thought of taking a shower in there. The thought of what a couple could do in a shower like that was enough to get her juices flowing. Or at least what she thought a couple could do. She’d read about it and had even seen a few movies, but at the ripe old age of twenty-one, Bobbie Carlington was still a virgin.

  Bobbie pulled herself from her thoughts and once again studied the bathroom. It was almost as big as her old apartment. She laughed at the thought, but the reality of it made her uneasy. Why would she, the hired help, be given such a room? It made no sense for her to have a bathroom of her own w
hen Clay and Chance obviously didn’t have such a luxury in their own rooms. Nope, it made no sense at all, and until she found out if it was a mistake, she wasn’t going to unpack a stitch of clothing.

  Bobbie was just about to leave the room when her curiosity--a trait some called nosiness--lured her into seeing what was behind door number two. With a flick of her wrist and a swing of her arm, she flung the door open and came face to face with a completely naked, entirely aroused Clay Bodine.

  Chapter Two

  Clay was lying on his bed with his back against the headboard, enjoying a jerk session to its fullest extent, when the door connecting his room to the one beside it swung open. In its wake stood a green-eyed vixen, the exact same one he’d been fantasizing about.

  He’d thought of nothing but her beautifully large breasts for most of the evening and whacking off to thoughts of sliding his cock between those pale globes had seemed the best option. Getting caught at it wasn’t on the agenda. The damned woman was a menace, he thought, as he reached for the sheet to cover his now flaccid shaft.

  “Don’t you know how to knock, woman!” he thundered at a pink-cheeked Bobbie.

  “Uh, well ... umm, I...” she stuttered in way of an explanation, her face crimson with embarrassment. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I just wanted to see where this door led.”

  “Well now you know. So if you wouldn’t mind, could you...” he motioned with his hand for her to turn around and leave the way she’d come.

  She did as asked but quickly turned back around, once again catching him off guard. “Oh, but I was wondering...” was all she got out before he lost what was left of his temper.

  “Out dammit, now!” When she scurried to the door, he took a deep breath in hopes of calming his temper. “Let me get dressed and then I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  It was all he could manage when what he really wanted to do was wring her sexy little neck and pound Chance into a bloody pulp. The dumb son of a bitch was too stupid for his own good. Why the hell would he put Bobbie in the master bedroom next to his and then not bother to say a word about it to either of them?