But being wealthy to start with, Scott was not over-impressed with the figures. He viewed his business growth dispassionately and objectively, and capitalised on it by making further investments. He was that rare being - an ordinary hard-working guy with extraordinary talents, a person who had not the slightest arrogance or superiority. He was unaffected by material wealth and success. He was, as Becky Sue so accurately surmised, a good catch.
He made it his business to visit Newport several times a year, both to check out his investments and chat with associates who had become friends; his fondness for the place was a bonus and he usually managed a day or two recreation time on each visit to enjoy the surroundings. This routine continued until shortly after his 31st birthday. It was on that visit that he first met Carla Odell, and she made one hell of an impact on his life.
You sure did babe, thought Scott. The image of her filled his head. A woman of 25 years, tallish at a little over 5ft 7, with a shapely figure and curves in all the right places. She wore her glorious dark-honey-blonde hair shoulder length. It framed her face - such a vibrantly alive face - cute button nose and a tilting pink-hued rosebud mouth that seemed to be forever smiling. But it was her eyes that were truly special. They were such an unusual colour - a kind of tawny amber, very rarely seen in humans - they had a luminous depth to them and looked exotically wolf-like. Her loved her eyes. He loved the rest of her too. But the problem was, she didn't love him back.
Scott sat up and drank more of the cooling liquid from his glass, then settled back down again, hat over his face, and he recalled their first ever meeting...
---oOo---
He had taken care of business and was indulging himself by taking the rest of the day off. After a walk along Nye Beach to work up an appetite, he decided to try out the Ocean View cafe for lunch.
He selected a small table outside in the shade of a large brightly striped parasol, and as he slid into a seat, the middle aged couple at the next table nodded and smiled to him.
"We've just had clam chowder, and an order of crab cakes to follow," the woman informed him. "They are absolutely delicious."
"But Betty dear, they're not half as good as the key lime pie or the cheesecake," grinned the man seated opposite her.
"Oh Cecil - you and your sweet tooth," remonstrated his wife. Then turning back to Scott she gave him a warm smile. "It's all good here. You've come to the right place to eat. Your first visit?"
"It sure looks good," agreed Scott perusing the menu. "I'm from Texas but business brings me to Newport several times a year and I always make time to spend at Nye beach. First time I've eaten here though. I think I'll go for the turkey corn chowder and then..." He was about to tell them he'd decided on the home-made meatballs, but as the server placed two plates of sizzling crab cakes in front of his lunch companions, he rapidly changed his mind. "... those crab cakes sure do look good. I think I'll have what they're having," he remarked to the back view of the server.
She turned and gave him a dazzling smile. "Of course. An excellent choice. Everyone loves them. We make them fresh every day. Would you like an appetizer?"
For long seconds, Scott just stared at her. She was lovely - that engaging smile - and those eyes! He was captivated.
"Uh. Oh... an appetizer. Yes, please. I'll have the corned turkey - I mean the turkey corn chowder! Damn - my tongue's in a knot." He grinned boyishly and shrugged his shoulders, and was rewarded by a delicious giggle and an extra big smile.
"Coming right up." She smiled and brushed aside the sweep of her fringe that threatened to cover those wonderful amber eyes. "And what can I get you to drink?" Before he had time to reply, she interjected, "Violet makes the most delicious cloudy lemonade. I can recommend that, if you'd like to try it?"
"Yeah. Sounds great. Let's go for that."
"Good. It's perfect for a hot afternoon." She flashed another smile and headed indoors. Scott couldn't help but watch the alluring sway of her hips as she walked away. She had nice legs too; even with flat shoes her legs seemed to go on forever.
It was with a considerable effort that he dragged his eyes away from her departing form, and then only because from the corner of his eye he was aware that the woman at the next table was looking at him.
"Lovely girl," she said conspiratorially. "Isn't she, Cecil?"
"What?" asked Cecil with his mouth packed full of crab cake. "Oh yes. Carla. She's a lovely girl. Always pleasant. Never a bad word to say about anyone."
"She sounds nice," said Scott. "Carla?"
"Yup. She's very nice. Always gives me an extra big piece of key lime pie." Cecil grinned and demolished another forkful of crab cake.
Carla returned a moment later carrying a tray containing a jug of lemonade and a large glass. "Here you go." She poured from the jug into the glass, and set them on the table. "Violet said to ask you if you like it."
Scott obliged and tasted the drink immediately. "Hey. That's good." He smacked his lips together and had another taste. "That's really, really good." He drained the remaining liquid in the glass, and then topped up his empty glass from the jug. "Please tell Violet it's the best lemonade I've ever tasted."
"She'll be delighted you said that."
"Mmmn. It's tangy and tart but has a wonderful sweetness too. It really is very tasty and refreshing."
Carla laughed. "I'll tell her she has another fan. Your chowder will be ready in a few minutes."
"Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."
When it arrived it was every bit as good as he thought it would be - rich and creamy, with plenty of clams and not too many potatoes. An empty bowl went back to the kitchens with Scott's compliments. When he was half way through his main course, the couple opposite had finished their lunch and settled the check. They smiled and wished him a good day, and much to Scott's amusement, Cecil patted him hard on the back and as he departed, urged him to try the key lime pie.
"Wonderful crab cakes. The best ever," Scott told Carla as she cleared his plate away.
"I thought you'd like them. And how about a dessert? Do you have room?"
"I always have room for pudding," said Scott. "And it seems I have no choice but to sample the key lime pie."
"Of course. Cecil would be very disappointed if you didn't try it," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
"And could you bring me an Espresso to finish off with please?"
"Of course."
He wanted to chat with her but her attention was taken with other customers who had just arrived. To his disappointment, a different server brought his piece of pie and an Espresso along with the check. Pleasant though she was, she wasn't Carla. But then he saw Carla approach, minus her apron, a tote bag swinging over her shoulder.
"Hi again. My shift has finished so I'm off now. I hope you enjoyed your lunch."
"Sure did. It was delicious," he said, chomping the last mouthful of key lime pie. "I'll certainly be back again for more."
"Glad to hear it. Bye." She smiled and headed out.
Scott drained his cup, left money on the table, including a generous tip, and followed her. "Hey. Hang on." He caught her up in a few swift strides.
If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "I always take a walk on the beach when I finish this shift. I love the ocean and the sand."
"Me too. This is my favourite beach."
"Do you live locally?"
"Nope. I live on a ranch in Texas." He got into step by her side, resisting the urge to catch hold of her hand.
"Texas? My - you're a long way from home, cowboy."
"Yep, but I visit here regularly. I have a few business interests in Newport, and I love this place. The first time I came was when I was 21. I was with a friend of mine. He's a keen surfer and he got me interested too."
"Oh yes. This stretch of the coast is really good for surfing. We get lots of tourists - good for the economy."
"I bet. Completion of the Yaquina Bay bridge during the Great Depression opened the entire Oregon coast t
o tourism. Newport's history goes back to 1882. It's evolved from a small fishing community to become a much sought after vacation destination. Of course, all the guidebooks say the Bayfront is where all the action is, with all the intimate little restaurants and galleries... but I like being by the ocean."
"Me too. You know your stuff, cowboy." She smiled and regarded him with interest.
"A little. So - have you lived here for long, Carla? Those guys at the table told me your name. I'm Scott. Scott Armstrong."
"Scott." She acknowledged his name with a smile and a nod of her head. "Nice name. I'm Carla Odell. I've lived here all my life, and since I was 16 I've lived at the cafe, with Violet and Herb Johnson. They own the place. Precious lives there too. She's Jamaican and helps out in the kitchen. She's a great cook and a lovely lady. They're like my family."
"Yeah? And your real parents?"
She shrugged. "I never knew my dad. He abandoned my mother before I was born. And when I was 16, mom shacked up with a guy I didn't much like. They went to live in Staten Island. I stayed here. I like it. It's home."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. What a wonderful place to live - to have the ocean on your doorstep, huh?"
"Yes. It's great. I love it in the winter months too."
They chatted as they walked along the beautiful shoreline, and the conversation flowed easily without any awkward silences. Carla took off her sandals and walked by the water's edge, curling her toes in the damp sand. Every so often she would shake her honey blonde mane. It was so thick and lustrous Scott wanted to run his fingers through it. In fact, he wanted to do a lot of things with Carla Odell. She was perfect in every way. She possessed a natural poise and grace and an easy manner. And she had a great ass. He tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring at it - it was round and firm and full and... he wanted to spank it.
It was a fact that the Armstrong men had a thing for spanking. Could be it was a genetic thing, but whatever it was, Scott had the gene and so did his brother and father. A couple of ranch hands were interested too, as evidenced by the slaps and yelps and laughter sometimes heard from their cabins on a still night.
Yeah, reflected Scott. Spanking a woman keeps her in line and keeps her happy. It leads to great sex too. He was so busy fantasising about the possibility of spanking Carla's magnificent bottom that he didn't look where he was going, stumbled on a piece of driftwood, and sprawled head first down onto the sand.
"Yeow," he chuckled. "That'll teach me to watch where I'm going," he said, spitting sand out of his mouth. He grinned up at Carla like a naughty schoolboy. She fell about laughing and hunkered down beside him.
"Good move, cowboy. Very entertaining." She laughed, and the light in her amber eyes danced beneath the sun.
"That's it. Make fun of a guy when he's down," said Scott in a tone of mock severity. "For all you know I could have knocked myself senseless!"
"Poor baby," she cooed. "You could have broken your leg, or your collar bone, or your... mmpff," she murmured in surprise as Scott reached up and scooped his arm around her waist and pulled her down so that he could easily lean over and kiss her. It was a wild impulse and he acted on it.
She tasted sweet. Her mouth opened beneath his as he ravaged her lips, leaning close, making her his with that one lingering kiss. He hadn't felt this way about a woman for a long time. Carla didn't resist after that first startled moment. She kissed him back. It came as natural to her as breathing. Her arms slid around his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders. For long moments they clung together, breathing hard and fast. And when at last they broke apart, Carla stared at him, her face a picture of surprise and enjoyment and uncertainty.
"Um," was all she could manage.
Scott grinned. "That was something else. I couldn't resist it. I hope you're not cross with me?" He smiled disarmingly and his blue eyes gleamed with passion and laughter.
"I should be very cross with you, taking advantage of me like that," she replied. "That was very naughty of you."
"It was. And I am," he confessed with a grin.
After that, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take her hand. Unresisting, and with a heady smile on her face, she walked with him. They both took off their shoes and walked where sand meets sea, splashing through the little eddies and foaming surf.
Time flew by unnoticed. They eventually found themselves sitting at a table outside a small bar. Scott ordered two root beers and they sipped the cool liquid gratefully.
"You have freckles on your nose," Scott remarked.
"I know." She rubbed her nose frantically. "I hate the things!"
"They're cute." He grinned at her.
"Well now, you've learned an awful lot about me and my way of life, but I know next to nothing about you. How about you tell me something about this ranch of yours in Texas?"
"I'd be more than happy to," he said, wishing he could whisk her back home with him and show her around personally. "Let's see now, Bandera County is 792 square miles of rolling hills, scenic open land, and magnificent cypress and cedar trees. It's teeming with lakes and rivers, with elevations ranging from 1,200 to 2,300 feet. It's beautiful hill country. We have a working ranch where we raise cattle - Longhorns mainly - and we have Spanish goats, and pigs. We have staff who work the horses and compete in rodeos - they can be a lot of fun. Ever been to one?"
"No. Not yet. I will one day though. Go on. I'm listening."
"The Armstrong ranch is a guest ranch and we get visitors from all over the world staying in our cabins. We take folks out on camping trips too. Some like to get in some practice horseback riding - that's always popular. The ranch hands are usually responsible for feeding the livestock, as well as branding and earmarking cattle and horses. They'll also patrol the rangeland checking for damaged fences and any other problems that might arise - they're a practical bunch who can turn their hand to most things like mending fences and maintaining ranch equipment. They usually move the livestock to different pasture locations or maybe herd them into corrals and onto transport trucks. Then we have a couple real specialist guys who train horses. We have our own stables. Say - do you ride?"
"No. Never had the opportunity. I'd probably fall off, assuming I could get on in the first place," she grinned.
"I'm sure you'd be fine. It just takes a little practice to feel confident in the saddle. You have to let the horse know whose boss." He grinned back, then continued. "As far as the tourists are concerned we have lots for them to do - hay rides, camp-fires, hiking trails, birding, fishing, swimming, volleyball. Dad started that side of the business off around a decade ago and over the years it's become more and more popular. We had a big expansion programme - built more cabins and kitted them out for self-catering for those folk who want a bit more privacy. Dad leaves the running of the ranch to Hank and myself now."
"Hank?"
"Yeah. My big brother. An ugly lookin' dude if ever there was - he looks like me apparently." Scott smiled, flashing a row of white teeth. "He's ancient - 35 now, whereas I'm the baby at 33. He's not been married long - he got himself hitched to a nice English girl called Rose."
"That's romantic. Do they live at the ranch?"
"Yes. It's massive. There's plenty of space to retain some privacy, and it's real good when all the family and staff get together."
"How many staff do you have?"
Scott made a mock frown of concentration. "Jeez. Far too many too count. Let me see, the ranchers are Matthew, Nathan, Ryan, Gabriel, Dylan, Noah, Jacob, Caleb, Mario, and Connor. Then we have Hannah - she's one great cook. Kayla and Mary Lou help out in the kitchen too. Then we have Ella and Rebecca in housekeeping, and Faith who does the laundry. There's a couple of cleaning ladies too but I've clean forgotten their names. That's pretty much it for the regular live-in staff, and we get extra hired hands as and when we need them. It's a busy place."
"It sounds incredible ."
"It is. You'd love it."
"Yeah. I'll have to l
ook you up if ever I visit Texas."
"You must come - soon. I'd love to have you," he said. In every sense of the word. "I want to show you where I live. I want you to meet my folks. I have so much to show you, Carla."
"Well, I... Scott," she began. "There's something I have to tell you," she began.
He felt the pangs of disappointment bite immediately as he discerned something in her tone... in her expression... that didn't bode well. A cloud covered the sun and the world darkened a little. "Go right ahead, little lady. I'm listening." He gave her what he thought was a reassuring look.
"I've enjoyed being with you this afternoon. It's been great."
"It's only 5pm - it's not over yet." He looked at her quizzically, sensing what was to come.
"It's just that... I... I have a boyfriend. We've been dating for about 3 months. So you see... it was wrong of me to let you kiss me like that."
"Sure didn't feel wrong to me," Scott quipped.
"I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it," she said ruefully and gave a little smile. How he loved that lilting smile of hers. "But it can't happen again. I'm in a relationship and one thing I don't do is cheat on my guys."
Lucky guys. I wish I were your guy, mused Scott. "I admire your honesty, Carla. Really I do. It's a part of you. It's what makes you so deliciously captivating." He smiled a smile full of warmth and then he sighed a little. "Just my luck, to fall for a girl who has a boyfriend. Still - let's think positive about this - you're not married." He looked at the fingers of her left hand. "And you're not engaged either. I'm a patient man. I'll wait until you get tired of him, and then I promise you, your life will really begin."
"Thanks for being so understanding, Scott. You're a really sweet guy."
"Sweet, huh? I guess I should take that as a compliment." His blue eyes twinkled as he looked at her.
Love on a Ranch Box Set Page 22
