To the Studs

by Roxanne Smith

  With a tip of his wide-brimmed hat, Tim disappeared behind a screen door. A loud clatter followed as it slammed back against the frame. It bounced off from the force and slapped against the frame a second time.

  Duke rushed to Neve’s side and whispered fiercely, “What are you doing? I didn’t come to watch you play smoochy face with the handsome cattle rancher.”

  Her mouth formed an upside down U, and she tossed an errant lock of hair behind her shoulder. “You think he’s handsome? He’s a little on the thin side. I personally like some definition on a man.”

  He squeaked as her hand reached out and splayed over his thigh as he crouched next to her rocker.

  “For example, a girl wants thighs she can depend on, you know? Thighs that can support her when she crawls onto his lap, not snap like twigs under her weight.” Her gaze drifted away, and a shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. “Unless she’s on the bottom, in which case he’s boring, and who cares what kind of thighs he has.”

  Duke cleared his throat of sudden dryness and his mind of sudden, unwelcome visions for the second time in the last few minutes. He escaped Neve’s slender roaming hand by taking the rocker next to hers. “What kind of game are we playing here?”

  “The kind I almost always win. Different jobs require different tools. Vince Taggart needs me to spit a loogie bigger than his before he can respect me.”

  Duke squinted at her. “You actually did that? Hocked a loogie to impress Vince?”

  “Of course I did.”

  He looked out over the meadow and nodded to himself. “Of course you did.”

  “Hocking an impressive wad of lung butter is but one of my varied and highly useful tools. Our rancher is playing along, but I’m not getting anything out of him using my wiles. And he won’t be won over with toughness, either. Working on a ranch, he knows all about tough women. Laurel would kick my ass in any physical arena. So, what tool do I use on a man with no obvious susceptibility?”

  Shocking. Neve had a penchant for manipulation. He turned his mind to the question. “Logic, I guess. My dad appreciated a logical argument. Some people prefer to barter.” He shrugged. “Hell, who knows.”

  Tim rejoined them, pushing through the screen door and allowing it to slam back against its frame once again, a tray of three tall glasses balanced perfectly in one hand with no apparent effort. He handed them each a glass, ice cubes tinkling musically, keeping one for himself. He lowered into the chair on the other side of Neve and set the tray to rest on the planks at his feet.

  Duke sipped his tea and would be hard-pressed to deny it came damn close to the tea his granny used to make. Thick as syrup and sweet enough to curl his toes. The day seemed hotter here in the open valley without the dense cover of the trees to block the summer sun. He appreciated the cool glass in his hand. He sipped again and tried to pay attention to Tim as he babbled on about the ranch.

  “My great-granddaddy Ben built most everything you see. Wasn’t but a tiny little cabin ’fore then, much like the one you’re fixing now. He inherited the ranch and the land and made it thrive. Places tend to do that when there’s love going into the care. And Ben Hux loved his land.”

  Neve’s hand swept toward the storage building they’d noticed on their drive in. “So, Ben built these, then?”

  “Yep. He added onto the original house, built the cowhand quarters, the hayloft, and a second barn. When he was a boy, he owned everything for miles and miles around. No need for fences. Then he began selling off patches of land here and there. Fences went up to mark new property lines.”

  Duke did the math. It took money to build, even when materials were cultivated on-site from your backyard. Didn’t make sense so put so much effort into expanding the main hold only to sell off the bread and butter of the ranch in pieces. “Why sell the land?”

  He half-expected Tim to ignore him, but he glanced beyond Neve to give Duke an unhappy glare. He didn’t appear to appreciate the question. “Ben gambled. Hell, he met Florrie at the tables. Lucky times meant expansion. When the luck dried up, so did acres and acres of Hux Ranch.”

  Neve guzzled tea and smacked her lips. “Your great-grandpa sounds like a real jerk. Gambling, cheating on his wife, selling off his inheritance. Poor Lulu.”

  Duke recalled the ghost story she’d passed along about Florrie Beels and her unfortunate end at Lulu’s hands, and Lulu’s end at her own. He didn’t empathize with how she chose to die but couldn’t deny it probably sucked to have been married to Benjamin Hux.

  “So,” Neve continued conversationally, “about these old buildings. I noticed the hay barn on our way up. Seems a little haphazard. Like maybe you don’t use it much these days.”

  Tim grunted and peered at her. Definitely not a stupid man. “I’ve been wondering when we’d get to the point of your visit. You damn sure ain’t here for Laurel’s tea.”

  “No, but it’s good enough to warrant a future visit with less business and more pleasure.” Neve all but purred the response.

  Duke stared ahead to stop his eyes from rolling back in their sockets.

  She wiped her brow. “Boy, it’s hot down here. There’s always a breeze farther up the mountain, but down in the valley it’s not enough to disperse this killer heat.” She set her glass on the porch railing and angled herself to face the rancher more directly. Her hands folded neatly together in her lap, and one leg crossed the other. A business stance.

  Duke reclined farther in his rocker and waited for the master to spring her trap. He wasn’t disappointed.

  She began with a polite throat clearing, he guessed more for show than any need. “I have a passion for what I do, Mr. Hux. My job is to make things beautiful and give them soul. It’s more than slapping paint on a wall or throwing down a set of matching rugs. Someone else might look at this place and see a weathered log cabin in need of a fresh layer of paint and some stainless steel to bring it up to date.”

  “But not you?” In Tim’s tone, Duke caught the edge of sarcasm. Couldn’t blame him. Neve laid it on kind of thick.

  “I see something we’re losing. History disappearing before our eyes. Every change, every added layer, every replacement wipes away something of the past. You can’t get it back after that. Like this porch. It’s old, creaky. I could do a rebuild, with uniformed wood slats dyed to perfection. It’d be fresh, shiny, and brand-spanking-new.” She sighed. “But it’d lose its soul in the process.”

  “Right. Porch soul.”

  Neve didn’t hesitate but sat up straighter and spoke firmer. “That’s right. From the living tree the wood came from, to the callused hands of your ancestors who toiled with a fraction of the tools we take for granted today. The same hands that have tilled this land for generations. You think they’d have succeeded where so many failed if they were as cynical as you, Mr. Hux?”

  Duke surprised himself by realizing he’d come forward in his rocker and hung onto each passionate word. Another tool in Neve’s arsenal, or an honest display of heartfelt emotion?

  More surprising, Tim sat back and blinked like she’d doused him with cold water. Then his brows snapped together in annoyance. “Why don’t you get to asking what you came here to ask?”

  Every drop of flirtatiousness fell from her words. “I’ll pay you to let me dismantle an old building on your property and use the wood for my renovation project. Beels Cabin is a piece of history. It deserves to be cleaned up, certainly, but more so, that cabin deserves to be preserved. Gavin won’t be the last owner. I don’t want to ruin or change it by bringing in some gleaming factory-polished wood to add walls.” She reclaimed her tea and relaxed into the rocker, almost nonchalantly, as if their whole project didn’t hinge on Tim’s response. “I’ll pay well, Tim. It’s worth that much to me.”

  “All this just to get your hands on some old wood?” He couldn’t quite mask his incredulity.

  A spark of intuition hit Duke square in the chest as he recognized how Neve had manipulate
d the rancher. She’d made him feel threatened with her talk of renovating his porch. To find out she only wanted the old, dilapidated hay storage building must’ve been a huge relief.

  “Not any old wood,” she corrected him. “Old wood with history. History, I’d point out, directly related to the cabin. Think of it. The walls inside the cabin will have come from the very ranch that borne it.”

  A tense silence followed.

  Duke idly stroked his beard, chin to tip, and considered how disappointed Gavin would be when they blew half the budget on lumber and transport. He dared a chance peek at Tim, struck dumb to find him grinning like a fool at Neve.

  “Tell you what. I’ll let you have the old hayloft. Won’t cost you a dime.”

  Duke blinked. “It won’t?”

  Ever the shrewd one, Neve cocked her head. “What will it cost me?”

  The rancher’s smile dazzled. Who knew he had it in him. “Dinner with me here at the ranch. At a time of your choosing, of course. I understand deadlines.”

  Thankfully, Duke had stopped himself from laughing out loud. He’d have only looked like an ass when Neve extended her hand.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Yosemite.”

  Chapter 6

  “A date, though? Really? With smarmy Yosemite?”

  Neve ignored Duke’s indignant protests, just as she’d done last night when he’d hounded her all the way back to the cabin. She also turned a deaf ear on Darcy the Pit’s unhappy whines as the two of them formed a train behind her. In her world, if the grass still clung to its morning dew and her first cup of coffee hadn’t been fully inhaled, it was too early for anything—including an argument with her project “consultant” or an explanation to her lazy dog as to why she couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Darcy, sweetie, I need you to give one last good sniff around the backside of the cabin before…well, it’s a secret. One I can’t let Duke in on.

  Since yesterday had yielded them a source for the reclaimed wood, Vince needed to get a team over to Lady Killer Ranch as soon as possible to start dismantling the old hayloft. Barn. Whatever. She’d never heard of a rancher who slept past daybreak. Tim would likely be up and waiting for her people to show.

  How they’d transport the supply remained a mystery. Getting the wood up the mountain along the main drag from the ranch, easy. A few pickups and a couple hours. Getting it down the footpath to the cabin presented another issue they’d have to tackle with tactical precision. She’d ask Duke, but her gut said Vince would be the guy to come up with a workable solution.

  Rather than concerning himself with real problems, Duke seemed inexplicably hung up on one of the solutions. “I’m serious, Neve. You said yourself he’s hiding something. What if he—”

  If she had red police lights attached to her head, they’d have started flashing. She stopped on a dime and whirled to face Duke.

  He came to a sudden, fumbling stop as he tried to avoid crashing into her and narrowly succeeded.

  She jabbed him in the chest. Sometimes people didn’t understand boundaries. She excelled at pointing them out. “You jealous or something?”

  He blinked rapidly and stepped back. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a great swallow, and his eyes went wide. “What? No. God, no.”

  She jabbed at him a second time. “Then get off my ass. I did what I had to do and I’d welcome an explanation as to how it’s your problem. Except, you can’t provide one because we both know this has nothing to do with you, consultant. This is my project, my name on the contract next to Gavin’s. You had your chance to be the shot-caller. Yesterday, I came through on a crucial supply. Period. Now, I’ve been led to believe you’re some kind of genius in your field but have yet to witness a shred of evidence to support the theory besides your decades-old claim to Vale House. Which, while impressive, doesn’t do shit for me here and now.”

  His face reddened. His deep blue eyes grew hooded. “I was injured for two weeks. It’s not my fault I haven’t been involved.”

  His mumbled excuse did little to douse the flames of her temper. Quite the opposite. “Nor is it mine. You want to be on my ass about something, why not ask how in the hell we’re supposed to get over a ton of wood slats down this goddamn trail without bulldozing trees. Or ask me who we’re to trust to keep the progress on track while we’re in town shopping and enjoying amateur sleuth hour at the museum.” She brought up her clipboard for a quick glance and scribbled his name next to one of her task bullets. “You’re supposed to be skilled. Now try being useful. I charge you with figuring out how Vince and his boys are going to get the lumber from the road to the cabin. They can’t use the storage trailer we’re taking to town. You have one hour to find a solution and tell Vince before I leave for Red Hill, with or without you.”

  Duke’s abashed expression of big, round blue eyes and unhinged jaw did something to her anger; it waned almost as quickly as it had come on. She had powerful urge to soften the rebuke. That didn’t sit well with her. She couldn’t afford to play favorites or get soft on the job.

  Darcy the Pit settled against her leg with a low whine.

  Neve closed her eyes briefly and bit her lip against the annoyance that flared in her chest. If he were anyone else, she’d skin him alive. “I’ve told you before, the job comes first. Succeeding beyond expectations, not merely meeting them, is what I do. No matter what. I’ve been running things for three weeks without anyone questioning me, which is how this works. I answer to one person, and it isn’t you,” she explained quietly and meaningfully, hoping he understood it wasn’t personal. Her spiel was the closest thing to an apology she could give.

  She left him there, studying something infinitely interesting on one of his boots. She didn’t have time for whatever Duke had stuck in his craw. Neither did he, and now he knew it.

  In truth, she had reasons for her bad mood that had nothing to do with the cabin, an issue in itself. Personal matters shouldn’t come between her and her focus, but the whole point of taking on the job seemed to be fading into the background.

  Gavin Chambers.

  He still insisted on receiving reports and giving directives through Duke. It hardly mattered; she’d been too busy the last three weeks to have bothered with him anyway. With his injury, Duke had nothing better to do than act as secretary. And now, in a completely backward turn of events, she owed the shady rancher down the road a date and was no closer to her original goal of getting to know Gavin. Most frustrating, perhaps, her current trajectory wasn’t likely to change soon.

  Neve stopped midstride in front of the cabin.

  A tiny blond head bobbed around two of Vince’s men working on a sawhorse. They used the wood slats they’d found abandoned inside the cabin to create handrails for the new set of front stairs, now dug and set and looking fabulous and woodsy.

  A satisfied breath escaped Neve even as she approached the girl and steeled herself for some kind of problem.

  The girl turned at the sound of Neve’s approach.

  Not a child, after all. Just a freakishly small woman. Under five feet tall if not an even four. Short hair in a pixie cut, much like Ruby’s style, but unlike Ruby, this girl dyed hers a shade of bright, buttery blond, which Neve admitted did the haircut some justice. She had wide eyes, set somewhat far apart, devoid of makeup, and they looked at Neve with something like wonder.

  Neve crossed her arms and cocked her head at the young woman. “Which local village did you wander in from, and do your parents know where you are?”

  The sprite stuck out her hand. Her smile seemed to stretch the full width of her face. “Ha, you’re funny! I like funny. Hate stuffy.” She rolled her eyes to the sky and presented Neve with an exaggerated frown. “Stuffy people suck.”

  The animated girl would be almost amusing under any other circumstance but not on Neve’s job site. “No, really. Who are you?”

  Her hand stayed stuck out like a stubborn cowlick. “Oh, of course! I’m sorry. I
’m so scatterbrained sometimes. Not with work stuff, though, I swear. Super-focused on work stuff. I’ve looked forward to meeting you. You’re my hero. You redid my best friend’s dad’s house three years ago, and it was amazing. I changed my major that year. I’m excited right now, but I’ll mellow out.” Her eyes went to her proffered hand and back to Neve, almost pleadingly. “Kay Bing, your new assistant. I arrived last night and slept in my car because I didn’t want to wake anyone. Though, Gavin assured me he’ll get another trailer up here. I parked behind your trailer. You probably didn’t notice my car.”

  “It escaped me.” Neve reluctantly took the girl’s hand and tested for a firm grip.

  Kay didn’t hesitate to give her a reassuring squeeze.

  At least that boded well, but the Babble McBabbling thing had to cease. “Before this goes any further, Ms. Bing, tell me the truth. Do your parents know where you are? Also, when does said ‘mellowing’ occur, because the sooner the better. I have a short fuse and zero patience.”

  Kay snickered into her palm. “So funny!” Then she straightened her shoulders and put her arms at her sides like a soldier at attention. “The mellowing starts the minute the job does, ma’am. I’m tireless and possess a personal desire to succeed, as well as a professional one.” More quietly, she added, “Gavin warned me I might not get a second chance to prove myself if I make any mistakes. So I won’t make any.” She smiled again and relaxed her posture. “Where do I begin?”

  Neve took a deep, fortifying breath. Kay Bing would be a total disaster or the best thing to happen to Neve’s career in many years. She prayed for the latter and scratched a few notes on her pad. “Okay, kid. Can I call you kid?” She wrapped an arm around Kay’s shoulders and guided her toward the cabin.

  “You can call me Bob if it strikes your fancy, Ms. Harper.”

  “Neve will do. Lucky for me, you showed up at the perfect time. Lucky for you, I’m handing you the means to prove yourself right off the bat. I’m going off-site today. Normally, I’d take along my assistant and leave Mr. Kennicot to spearhead. However”—we have a little date with a museum—“as consultant, he prefers to accompany me on this buying trip. While I’m away, you’re my eyes, ears, and voice.” She dropped her arm and reluctantly handed Kay the clipboard harboring her master list, among several others, to which she’d made a few new connotations.