by Sharon Sala
Lily gritted her teeth. Honey!
“What does it pay?” she asked.
“Can you cook?” he fired back.
“Yes, I can cook. I wouldn’t be asking otherwise,” Lily said sharply.
The amount he named made her stop and take a second look at the ad.
“You mean you’re paying that much just for a cook? Who in God’s name are you feeding?”
Case sat up in bed, wiped his hand across his face, and smiled to himself. He liked the spunky sound of her voice.
“More than a dozen men who’re helping with spring roundup. It’s three meals a day, six days a week, and a place to sleep. Take it or leave it.” And then before he forgot, he added, “The job is only temporary. Three months and then the extra help I’ve hired is gone. I don’t keep a cook year-round. Most of my regular help is married. They have their own cooks.”
Lily was silent, her mind racing as she absorbed the implications of disappearing for three months to get her head and life back in order. The thought was intriguing.
“Well,” the man drawled, “are you interested?”
“When do I start?” Lily couldn’t believe she’d just said that.
“When can you get here?” he fired back.
“Give me two days to get my life in order and my plane tickets, and the directions to your ranch. You just hired yourself a cook.”
“Good,” he said. “Just hurry. If the men have to eat much more of Pete’s cooking, they’re going to leave. But never mind about directions. When you get the flight number, call back. I’ll have someone pick you up in Oklahoma City.”
“Right,” she answered, and then hung up the phone with shaky hands. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What in heaven’s name had she just done?
* * *
The Oklahoma airport was unfamiliar. And, like all airports, her plane had landed at one end of the building, and her luggage was to be retrieved at the other on a different level. It figured.
She’d just pulled the last bag from the conveyor when she heard her name being paged. Bags in tow behind her on a wheeled luggage carrier, she started in search of the Information Booth where she’d been ordered to appear. She didn’t know who or what to expect. Neither she nor Mr. Longren had had the foresight to give each other any identifying characteristics. Lily’s reason was painfully obvious as she ignored the curious glances of the people she passed. How would she have worded it? Just look for the blonde with her face in pieces? The best she could hope for was to look for someone wearing a cowboy hat. Surely that would help. The people lived and worked on a ranch, they must look like cowboys. It was a bad idea. She changed her tactics and searched the area for someone who seemed to be waiting. Once again, nearly everyone she saw fit that description.
“You wouldn’t be the cook?”
The voice behind her sent her spinning around. She looked down into the wizened face of the tiniest man she’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been much over five feet tall, but he was wearing a tall hat and boots to match that added several inches to his diminutive size.
“Excuse me?” Lily asked, trying not to stare at the maze of wrinkles running down his face. It reminded her of her own mark, and she unconsciously touched her cheek with her fingers.
“I said, you wouldn’t by any chance be the cook for Longren Ranch, would you? I don’t suppose we’d be this lucky.” The grin that accompanied his remark made Lily smile in return.
“Are you Mr. Longren?”
“Shoot no, miss,” he cackled. “Name’s Arloe, Arloe Duffy, but you can call me Duff. Everyone else does. I guess that means you’re Miss Brownfield.”
“Call me Lily,” she said, and watched the little man’s face for a sign that would indicate he was shocked or disgusted by her slow-healing injuries. There was none.
“Lily it is,” he crowed. “Boy howdy, the guys are gonna eat crow tonight when they get a look at you. They been expectin’ some old lady on her last pegs.”
“Why in the world would they think that?” Lily asked.
“Who else would want to come bury herself in a kitchen for the better part of three months, except someone who ain’t got anything better to do?”
Duff realized the moment he’d spoken that he might have just put his entire booted foot in his mouth. He blushed, started to stammer and then yanked his hat off his head. Fuzzy tufts of gray hair sprang up in wild abandon. He smashed his hat against his chest in abject apology.
“Shoot, Miss Lily. Don’t mind me. I ain’t seen anyone as young and purty as you in a month of Sundays. It just clabbered my brain. You know what I mean, and alls I can say is we’re real proud to have you at the Bar L. Especially if you can cook better than Pete.”
Hearing Duff say that she was young and pretty went a long way toward soothing the ache in her heart, even if she didn’t quite believe he meant it.
“Well,” she answered, “I don’t know about Pete’s cooking. But I have a father and four older brothers who can certainly vouch for mine. I can cook just about anything, and lots of it.”
“Ooooee,” Duff crowed. “I can hardly wait. Come on, Miss Lily, let’s get crackin’.” He shoved the crumpled hat back on his head, grabbed her luggage, and motioned for her to follow. They headed down a long hallway.
“Call me Lily,” she reminded him, but he was too far ahead of her to hear. She hitched at the waistband of her pink linen slacks, smoothed the short matching jacket down to her slender waist, and followed the little man as fast as she could.
* * *
“Here it is,” Duff announced, as he turned into another set of gates, the sixth since leaving the main highway, and pointed toward a white, two-story house and a multitude of outbuildings.
“It looks like the house on that television show, Dallas,” Lily replied.
“What? You mean Southfork? That’s just across the border into Texas. I seen it a couple of times myself.”
Lily’s mouth dropped. “You mean it really exists?”
“Sure,” Duff answered. “Different folks own it now, and call it by a different name, but it’s still the same place. Look,” Duff pointed, “there’s the boss now.”
Lily stared. She couldn’t make out one man from the other. All she could see were cows milling, calves bawling, men running, and dust...everywhere.
She got out of the blue pickup truck, dusted off her pink slacks and jacket, and adjusted her sunglasses. She smoothed the honey-colored fall of her hair slightly across her left cheek to hide as much as possible of her scarred face and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the pungent aroma of fresh manure and dust that assailed her.
“How can I tell which one is...?”
Her words froze in the back of her throat as one tall, dusty man separated himself from the melee and turned to face them. His stance was instantly still and out of place in the constantly moving scene before her. Something about his demeanor made her think of ancient kings and royalty. It had to do with the way he ignored the chaos around him and the way he cocked his head back as he looked their way.
Lily’s heart jumped, and she resisted the urge to turn and run. Even from this distance she could tell he was big...very big...and he was coming their way.
* * *
Case Longren was hot, dirty, and sick to death of the smell of dust and blood. They’d been cutting young bulls all morning, deftly removing their ability to sire young with one swift stroke of the knife and thereby turning them into steers that would eventually find their way to someone’s dinner table.
He’d almost forgotten that today was the day his new cook was to arrive. In fact, he had forgotten it until he’d seen Duff’s blue pickup truck turning into the yard. He watched out of the corner of his eye for a glimpse of his new hired hand. It was the first time he’d ever done anything as foolish as hire someone, sight unseen, no references asked, over a phone. He absently wondered if he’d just bought the proverbial “pig in a poke.”
His wandering thoughts
slammed into his gut with rude force as the pickup door opened and a young, blond woman emerged, towering over little Duff by nearly a foot.
“Sweet bird of youth,” he muttered, and tossed the end of his rope to one of the men nearby. She wasn’t a pig, that much was evident, but she was damn sure pink...and as out of place as a heifer in a pen full of steers. “Here, Harris. Help the boys finish up here. I’ll be back later.”
Something was different about this lady. He could tell that even from a distance. Case knew women, and this one didn’t fidget or preen. She stood stock-still, letting the dust and wind carry whatever came her way without shading her face or brushing at her clothing. In fact, the closer he came, the more he imagined that she was holding her breath. He scoffed at himself as being fanciful and started worrying about what he was going to do with her. Surely to God she wasn’t actually a cook by trade. He could tell by the cut of her clothes and hairstyle that money played a part in her life.
“Miss Brownfield?” he asked, hoping that he’d been wrong about her identity.
Maybe the cook was coming on the next flight. But his hopes were dashed when she nodded her head slightly and held out her hand. If she’d just handed him a snake, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. There was no way he could shake her hand. She had no idea what all he’d been doing with it all morning.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and pointed back at the men and cattle, hoping that she’d understand without going into details, “I’m too dirty to shake hands with you, miss.”
“I’ll wash, Mr. Longren,” Lily said quietly, and grasped his hand and shook it before he had time to object.
Lightning!
Case blinked and looked up, expecting to see thunderheads boiling overhead. No clouds, no nothing but the ever-present sun burning down on top of them. He stared blankly at the slender hand still grasping his huge, dirty one, then back up at her face, hidden by sunglasses and that glorious mane of hair, and dropped it as if he’d just been burned.
“Miss Brownfield, you’ll have to pardon my asking, but surely cooking is not your chosen profession?”
Lily looked into his dust-covered face, the three-day growth of thick, black stubble shaded by a wide-brimmed, black Stetson, also covered in a thin, persistent layer of dust, and saw blue so clear that she felt she was staring into pieces of the sky behind him.
She stifled the gasp that shot up her throat and knew that those piercing sky-blue eyes would see everything. Instantly, she turned her face slightly, unwilling just yet to see the look of shock she knew would come when he saw her face.
“No,” she finally answered, staring at a spot just over his shoulder, “but I can cook, and you said I could come. Does this mean you’re sending me away without even a trial period?”
The pain in her voice was evident, yet her demeanor betrayed none of the fear she was experiencing.
“Hell, no!” he said sharply. “My word is good. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
He turned to Duff, who was standing to one side and grinning from ear to ear.
Arloe Duffy knew just how the boss felt. The lady had knocked him sideways, too. She was a real looker. And that little ol’ scratch on her face didn’t amount to much.
“Take her stuff to the house, Duff. I’ll walk up with Miss Brownfield. We’ll talk on the way.”
“Yessirree,” Duff crowed, hopped back into his pickup truck and headed for the house. He could almost taste supper.
“Please call me Lily,” she asked, as they started toward the house.
“Okay. Lily it is. The same goes for me. The men call me Case, or Boss, whatever’s comfortable.”
She nodded and quickened her stride, trying to keep up with the distance his long legs covered in a step.
“So, Lily Brownfield,” Case asked, as they entered the house. “Where do you live, when you’re not here, that is?” He smiled softly, trying to hide his growing curiosity with innocent questions.
“L.A.,” she answered.
Once more Case was dumbstruck. He leaned against the kitchen counter and shoved his hat to the back of his head.
Lily noted by the band of clean skin that appeared that his skin was a very dark shade of nut brown beneath the dust. A vague curiosity slid through her thoughts before she had time to squelch it. I wonder if he’s that brown all over? She blushed and then frowned at herself.
“California?” he finally was able to mutter, wondering what the frown was for.
She nodded and sighed, running her shaky fingers through her hair and adjusting her sunglasses across her nose. Here it comes.
“What in hell would make someone as young and pretty as you come halfway across the country to cook for a bunch of filthy cowhands for three months? Surely you don’t imagine that this is going to be a romantic lark?”
Lily spun around, yanked her sunglasses off her nose, and swept the hair away from her face in one angry gesture.
“Do I look like I’m looking for romance, Mr. Longren?”
Case grunted as if he’d just been kicked in the solar plexus. God in heaven, what had happened to her? He knew now was not the time to ask.
Lily waited, expecting to see horror darken the blue of his gaze, or watch him turn away in disgust as the full measure of her injury was revealed. But to her surprise, he did neither. He stood, watching her anger, yet not responding to it by word or action.
“Well?” Lily finally asked, her chin thrust upwards in defense, waiting for the thrust of his judgment.
“Well what?” he finally remarked.
“Do I stay?”
“Hell, yes,” Case grumbled. “I already told you that. Just don’t think you can make a bunch of Oklahoma cowboys eat alfalfa sprouts and sunflower seeds. Out here we eat beef, and feed the green stuff to the cattle.”
Lily smiled. It was obvious that he wanted her to stay. It felt as if a huge weight had just disappeared from her shoulders.
“Yes, Boss,” she said sharply. “Now would you please show me where I’ll be sleeping, and where the kitchen and foodstuffs are?”
Lily knew she’d just been rude again and regretted her sharp manner the moment she’d spoken. It was too late to take back what she’d said, so she tried softening her words with a smile.
Case stared, dumbfounded by her beauty as her lips curved upwards. He no longer even noticed the red gash running the length of her cheek. He was too lost in wondering what it would taste like to kiss that smile.
“What did you say?” he finally asked.
“I said, where do you expect me to sleep?”
In my bed, came instantly to mind, and then Case wisely kept the thought to himself. He decided to stick to the facts.
“Come on,” he muttered, “I’ll show you to your room and then fill you in on the whereabouts of kitchen supplies and mealtimes. The rest is up to you.”
Chapter 2
They were coming. Lily could hear their easy laughter and tired jokes as they came up the back steps of the house. Her heart skipped a beat and then made up for it by beating double time as the first of the men entered the room.
Two long tables had been temporarily set up in the huge kitchen and adjoining dining area with an odd assortment of folding chairs shoved in place. There was plenty of room for the promised number of men that would be expecting food three times a day, six days a week. Lily prayed that she hadn’t been off in calculating the correct quantities of food to prepare. She’d mentally counted what she used to fix for her father and four brothers and then multiplied it by six. If the men ate more than that, they were pigs.
Lily didn’t know how the food had been served by her predecessor, Pete, but she knew from experience that the easiest way to feed a crowd was buffet style. She had the food set out in steaming array on the long, island work counter with the desserts and drinks on a roomy sideboard against a wall in the dining room.
Silence reigned as the last man squeezed himself into the kitchen and stood mashed against the wall
, trying to get a glimpse of the new lady cook that they’d all been talking about. One cowboy couldn’t see her, but it was his short, succinct comment that broke the silence and...for Lily...the ice.
“Well,” he drawled, “I can’t see you, lady, but I can damn sure smell the food. If you smell as purty as it does, you’ll be all right.”
Everyone laughed as Lily blushed. She had dreaded facing them, knowing that she’d see the shock and then disgust on their faces as she turned her scar their direction. But she was wrong. Very few were even looking at anything but the food, and the ones that eyed her seemed to be flirting, not frowning. Lily was amazed. Was it possible that she’d built up an over-exaggeration of how she looked in her own mind? She’d have to wait and see. For the time being, cooking had taken her mind off all her troubles. It felt good to be this tired again.
Another man spoke up and from what he said, Lily quickly determined that this was the much maligned Pete.
“I don’t even care if it tastes bad,” Pete drawled. “I’ve never been so glad to get rid of a job in my life. I was getting dishpan hands.”
This time the laughter was an uproar and even Lily could not contain her mirth. It lightened the mood immediately.
“The food is ready and it’s buffet style,” Lily said. “Does someone give the blessing before you eat, or...”
“Not usually,” Case answered.
Lily jumped. She hadn’t known Case was behind her. She turned and stared. She hardly recognized him. He’d shaved! And the face that stared back at her sent her heart into overtime.
What a stubborn chin and jaw had been hiding beneath that three-day growth of beard! And who would have suspected such clean, strong lines existed beneath the dust he’d been wearing earlier? Case Longren wasn’t just good-looking. He was handsome. Lily suspected he knew it. He was smiling at her with something akin to teasing.
She turned away from his stare and tried to ignore the fact that he was right behind her. But he was the boss. She supposed he could stand anywhere he chose.
“However, that doesn’t mean it’s not a good thing to start,” he continued. “I’ll do the honors tonight; tomorrow will be someone else’s turn. Okay, men?”
