Country Heat (King Creek Cowboys Book 1)

by Cheyenne McCray

  Kit’s purse swung at her side as she headed up the flagstone path to the front door while mentally shaking her head. She wasn’t desperate to replace the love of the father she had lost—she had been once, but not anymore. Nor did she feel the need to be wanted by a man. She truly did not need a man.

  Grace had told Kit to go to the front door when she arrived, and a woman named Belle would instruct her further. Kit reached the huge door, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath of fresh spring air without a hint of pollution. Her lips curved into a smile. It was a new adventure, and she was ready to start.

  Her knuckles hit the wood in a solid rap as she knocked. A tickle started in her belly, the first she’d felt since she’d been given the job. Soon she would meet the owner, Carter McLeod. He had to be at least in his fifties, probably in his sixties. The man was a self-made millionaire in the cattle business, and it would take years to build that kind of operation.

  She had researched the man and Superstition Springs Ranch before applying for the position. She hadn’t located any pictures of Carter McLeod, and she hadn’t found a whole lot about him. She had come across enough information, however, to give her a good feeling about the ranch.

  When no one answered, Kit rapped on the door again.

  “Hold your horses.” A muffled voice barely carried through the wooden door. “I’m a-comin’.”

  Kit lowered her hand to her side and stepped back. A couple of moments later and the big door swung open.

  A broad-shouldered androgynous woman stood in the open doorway. At least Kit was pretty sure the person was a woman because of her large breasts that strained against the buttons of a denim shirt. The woman put one man-sized hand on her hip and held the door with the other while looking Kit over. Her hazel brown eyes swept from Kit’s toes, over her full figure, and up to her eyes.

  “You Kit?” She spoke in a deep voice that could have been male or female. When Kit nodded, the woman said, “I’m Belle. Come on in.”

  This was not at all how Kit had pictured Belle. Maybe it was because of the name’s meaning, along with the Disney movie with the stereotypical Belle in Beauty and the Beast. Damn Disney, anyway.

  Kit smiled. “Grace said you’re the housekeeper.”

  “Damn good thing you’re early.” Belle stepped back, allowing Kit to slip through the opening. “I don’t have time to get this house in shape for company as well as make lunch, dinner, and the cakes for the boss’s birthday.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of an arched doorway. “The kitchen is through there.”

  Kit hadn’t expected to be thrown into the fire the moment she walked inside the home, but she was up to the challenge. “I’ll take care of it.” She started to step in the direction of the kitchen but paused. “How many am I cooking for?”

  “Fourteen for lunch, including five staff and nine ranch hands.” Belle closed the door behind Kit. “Eleven guests for dinner plus the boss. You’ll need to bake two cakes—one for employees and one for the party. Just don’t call it a party. Carter doesn’t like ’em. He especially doesn’t like surprises.”

  Kit’s eyes widened but the task didn’t intimidate her. She had cooked for many more on a last minute basis.

  “Dinner?” She cocked her head. “I thought I cook breakfast and lunch and I have dinner off.”

  Belle’s frown was enough to make a normal person shrink. “Is this a problem for you?”

  “Not a problem at all.” Fortunately, Kit had plenty of experience with co-workers and employers who did their best to intimidate others, and she didn’t let it faze her. “I was just surprised. I’ll get right on it.”

  Belle gave a nod and pulled a cellphone from a holster at her belt. “I’ve already got your number in my phone. I’ll text you now, and if you have any problems or need me, text. Call only if it’s an emergency. I hate these damned things.” She punched the keys on the older-style flip phone. A moment later, Kit’s mini iPhone chirped in her purse.

  “Any special instructions?” Kit asked.

  “Yeah.” Belle looked annoyed. “Hurry and get something made. Those cowboys get damned hungry and like to eat right at noon. The office staff, too. I don’t want to hear any bitching and moaning from anyone.”

  Kit wanted to salute, but nodded instead. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “One more thing, before you go.” Belle held Kit’s gaze. “Never lie to the boss. When it comes to getting along with him, nothing is worse than lying as far as he’s concerned.”

  “Got it,” Kit said. She couldn’t think of a reason why she would want to lie to her new employer.

  Belle gestured in the direction of the kitchen with a firm movement. Kit felt like a student who had just been told to go into the corner.

  Kit inhaled and let it out through her mouth. She strode through the enormous living room. Native American patterned rugs scattered across brown Saltillo tile. A built-in entertainment center took up one side of the room, which included a massive flat screen TV.

  The rustic furniture she passed was made from gnarled oak, with ivory and tea-colored cushions and pillows. The designs and colors were similar to the throw rugs.

  She continued to the archway, wondering what lay ahead of her.

  The moment she stepped inside the kitchen, her gut bottomed out. The kitchen looked like a train wreck.

  Not only was the kitchen a complete disaster, but the appliances were inferior—they didn’t come close to what she had worked with on a daily basis for the past several years.

  “What did you expect, Kit Beaumont?” She spoke under her breath in case Belle had decided to follow her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw it wasn’t the case. She was alone in this big mess of a kitchen.

  She groaned as her gaze slid over stacks of dirty dishes in the sink, pots and pans crowding every countertop, and probably most of the contents of the pantry on every surface. Her heart sank as she ran her finger through a dusting of white flour along the marble island.

  She glanced at the long wood table with benches on either side, and it was littered with dirty plates, cups, and serving dishes.

  “I can’t work in a mess like this.” She shook her head. “But I only have three and a half hours to make lunch and a cake.”

  She’d faced many challenges, and this was just another one.

  An apron hung on a hook on the outside of the pantry door. It was stained, but at least it was clean, so it would do. At that moment, she completely agreed with the saying on the apron—

  Your opinion was not in the recipe.

  That managed to coax a grin from her before she looked at the kitchen again. Her grin vanished in a flash.

  Deep breath.

  Exhale.

  Go.

  First thing, she hung her purse on a hat rack by the back door. The rack was created from welded together horseshoes.

  Before she started cleaning, cooking, and baking, she needed to see what was on hand to cook with. The more she looked, the more she shook her head.

  Fortunately, the fridge contained several cartons of eggs and lots of milk, bacon, steaks, hamburger, pork chops, whole chickens, and a wheel of cheese. All of it looked to be fresh, and she wondered if the ranch also had chickens, dairy cows and pigs, or if they purchased from a neighboring ranch.

  Unfortunately, no fresh vegetables, or even vegetables that were edible, were on hand. The fridge contained wilted lettuce, withered bell peppers and carrots, and zucchini going bad.

  The pantry—not counting whatever items were spread out all over the kitchen counters—was stocked with relatively small amounts of flour, cornmeal, sugar, jars of peanut butter and jam, and a half a rock-hard bag of brown sugar. She cringed when she saw canned peas, corn, and green beans.

  “Oh, my God. No.” This time she shook her head vehemently.

  At least she found potatoes, sweet potatoes, garlic bulbs, and onions in the pantry. They would have to do.

  Also in the pantry were package
s of instant pudding, gelatin, and other odds and ends that made Kit turn her nose up. Instant? Never.

  Never say never. Kit sighed when she realized there weren’t enough ingredients to make two cakes to feed twenty-six hungry people.

  She banged her head against the pantry door.

  “You can do this.” The more she said it, the more she was certain she could get herself to believe it.

  Thankfully a few supplies were on hand that she could find good uses for—baking powder, baking soda, and packages of yeast. Plenty of salt and pepper, chili powder, and a seasoning that was a blend of herbs and spices, including rosemary, thyme, basil, and garlic, and oregano. Fresh was the only way to go, but this would do in a pinch. And now was definitely a pinch.

  How many candles should be on the cake? Fifty, sixty, seventy? Past forty and a fire hazard was in the making.

  She felt like closing her eyes when she turned back to the mess. First things first. She needed a clean surface to start on, so she would tackle the island before getting to work on lunch and cleaning the kitchen simultaneously.

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  She cleaned off the island as she mulled over what she could make for lunch from the ingredients on hand. She didn’t want to do a simple bacon and eggs meal for lunch. Not enough bacon was in the package for fourteen people, she couldn’t find any bread for toast, and she didn’t have enough time to bake a loaf of homemade bread.

  Bacon and egg quiche would be quick and easy, and she had all the ingredients on hand. She nodded to herself. Perfect. She would have to make a lot—as hungry as these cowboys would likely be, she had to plan on half a quiche per man, and then whatever the side would be on top of that.

  What could she pair it with? A quiche should go with a nice salad on the side, or at least some fresh vegetables. She shook her head. All she had ingredients for was some kind of potato dish. Quiche aficionados would be rolling over in their graves.

  With lunch decided on, Kit powered her way through cleaning the kitchen at the same time she prepared the meal. She would have to mull dinner over in her mind as she took care of meal number one.

  She came up with a simple potato and sweet potato dish, but winced when she had to use dry herbs and spices. First thing tomorrow, she was going grocery shopping.

  After she baked the potato dishes, she pulled the pans out of the oven and put them on hot pads, and covered them with foil to keep them hot.

  When that was finished, she slid the seven pans of quiche into the large pre-heated oven, then closed the door.

  Sweat beaded her forehead, and she mopped it off with her apron. When she lowered the apron, she nearly jumped out of her skin and screamed.

  A man stood in front of her.

  A very tall, intimidating man.

  At least six-three, broad-shouldered with a rangy build, his carved features looked amused rather than apologetic for scaring her.

  “Who are you?” She managed to get out the words as she placed her hand on her chest.

  “I could ask you that same thing.” The corner of the man’s mouth quirked. “If I didn’t already know why, I’d ask you why you’re in my kitchen.”

  “Your kitchen?” She nearly groaned. “You can’t be Carter McLeod. You’re too young.”

  His sharp whiskey-brown eyes held amusement as he studied her. “You’re Kit Beaumont.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry for being rude. You gave me a start.”

  “My apologies for startling you.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  Kit still held her hand over her heart. “How can a man as big as you sneak up on a person like that?”

  He took off his hat, the flex of muscle pulling the light blue western shirt taught against his biceps. He leaned his hip against the island. “I think you had your mind on other things.”

  She lowered her hand. “You’re much younger than I thought you would be.”

  “Expecting someone in his fifties or sixties?” He smiled, showing white, even teeth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  As self-assured as he appeared to be, she didn’t think he cared in the least whether or not he was complimented on anything. But she appreciated his friendliness and the fact that he hadn’t been offended when she had snapped at him when he’d startled her.

  She glanced at the kitchen before turning her attention back to him. “I need to get back to work and get this kitchen cleaned and lunch made.”

  He followed her gaze and looked at the countertops. “The men left you with one hell of a mess.”

  “I’ve been digging my way through.” Kit waved it away. “I’ll get it done by the time lunch is ready and the cowboys start coming in.”

  Carter walked across the kitchen and tossed his Stetson onto one of two hat “trees” that were made of horseshoes. He rolled up one of his sleeves as he returned. His hands were large and callused, and she had a quick flash of fantasy, involving those hands all over her body…

  “I’ll take care of dishes,” he said.

  She blinked as his words captured her attention again. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” He rolled up his other sleeve and headed for the sink. “I want to.”

  Kit was not about to look a gift dish-washer in the mouth. “Thank you.” One Brownie point for Carter McLeod.

  He gave a nod and started running hot water into the sink basin and squirted dish soap in the water. His hands were strong and capable as he started in on the dishes.

  Now that her heart rate had slowed, she took in the backside of her new boss. Damn, what a backside it was. Wranglers did things to a man’s ass that no other jeans could.

  Not only did he have a magnificent rear view, the rest of him was just as drool-worthy. Short, coffee-brown hair curled just a little at his nape, and he had dark, straight eyebrows over deep-set blue eyes. He had the kind of sexy grin that would make most women sigh and dream about.

  Especially a man who rolled up his sleeves and washed dishes.

  The next best thing would be him washing the dishes shirtless. Oh, yes. One thing better than that would be if he wore only chaps and boots.

  She nearly fanned herself from the heat that rose within her at the image. Down girl.

  Talk about a heart-stopping sexy man. Daisy hadn’t been far from the mark at all. No, she’d been right on target.

  He glanced over his shoulder and the look in his eyes told her he knew she’d been checking him out.

  She looked away and got back to work, assembling ingredients for the boss’s cake—while the boss was in the room with her.

  Awkward.

  “How was your drive from L.A.?” he asked as he continued to hand wash the dishes.

  “Not bad at all.” She thought about her conversation with Daisy again. “The trip isn’t too long.”

  He rinsed out a pot. “You have family back in California?”

  “My mom and sister.” Kit didn’t want to share more about her family than she had to. “They live in the San Francisco Bay area.”

  He put another pot into the sudsy water. “What do they do?”

  She looked beneath the counter, in a cabinet where she found a couple of mixing bowls. “Mom owns a used bookstore-slash-coffee shop.”

  “Sounds like something that would be successful in the city.” He rinsed off a serving dish and put it into the dish drainer. “Can’t beat books and coffee.”

  A man after my own heart. Kit set the mixing bowls aside and finished prepping the three round cake pans. “It is very successful. Especially popular with college students and anyone who wants to read and drink a cup of coffee in a relaxing atmosphere.”

  She found herself talking more than she was used to with strangers, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She preferred to keep everything close to her chest, so a slight change in the direction of their conversation appeared to be in order. “What authors do you like to read?” she asked.

  “James Lee Burke a
nd his Dave Robicheaux series would have to be my favorite.” Carter looked thoughtful. “I read suspense and thrillers, too. David Baldacci, Mark Greaney, and Greg Iles are a few authors whose books I enjoy.”

  More Brownie points for the boss.

  “All great authors.” Kit smiled. “I also have a thing for urban fantasy by Kevin Hearne and Jim Butcher.”

  “I’ll have try those.” Carter switched the subject on a dime. “Married? Any kids?”

  Exactly where she hadn’t wanted the conversation to go. She swallowed down a lump.

  Belle said Carter didn’t like lies, but he was a stranger. She didn’t have to tell him anything about something so personal and painful. Besides, it wouldn’t be lying if she didn’t tell him what had happened.

  Would it be lying by omission?

  Damn it. He was her employer, but that didn’t mean he needed or had the right to know.

  Kit studied the mixing bowl as she dumped ingredients into it. “I’ve never been married, and I’ve never raised a child.”

  And that was not a lie...it just wasn’t exactly the truth, either.

  She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. “What about you?”

  “Never met the right woman.” He shrugged one big shoulder. “I’d like a few kids, but as my kid sister’s friend pointed out, I’m not getting any younger.”

  Show me a mature man who doesn’t want kids, she thought.

  “How old are you?” That might give her an idea of what to write on the cake since she couldn’t find any candles in the pantry.

  “Thirty-six—” His mouth tipped at the corners. “Make that thirty-seven today. Got stuck making the boss’s birthday cake, am I right?”

  “Spot on.” She laughed. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” He went back to washing dishes and cleaned up a frying pan. “Did anyone warn you that I don’t like surprises?”

  “Yep.” Kit tried not to laugh. “First thing. That and you don’t like parties.”

  He chuckled. “Now that you have the most important aspects of your job down, you’re going to do just fine here.”