The Cowboy's Million-Dollar Secret. Emilie Rose
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had loved him. In return, Arch had promised her enough money to finish college and keep her mother in rehab. She would have agreed without the promise of money, because the stories Carolyn had written about Patrick’s boyhood escapades had whetted her appetite for adventure—cowboy-style.
Patrick Lander, according to his mother, was a man of the land and good with animals and children. He had a family history—something Leanna sorely lacked—and he’d lived in the same place since birth. Compared to her life, his sounded like a fairy-tale, and compared to the court jesters she’d dated, he sounded like King Arthur. The tales of his gallantry had certainly spoiled her for every man she’d met.
“You worked for a movie star?” Patrick stepped back, looking and sounding repulsed rather than impressed, the way most people were by her former employer.
She sighed. Her friendship apparently didn’t rank high on his list of things to accomplish today. Well, tomorrow was another day, as Scarlett had said. “Yes, but managing staff and making guests comfortable, whether it’s paying customers or just friends dropping in, are universal skills.”
“Right.”
She’d never known one word could carry so much sarcasm, and she’d lived with an actor for the last six years. Pivoting on his worn-down boot heel, her quarry opened the back door but paused in the threshold. “Brooke, tell Caleb I’ll catch up with him later.”
“Patrick.” Brooke hurried across the kitchen and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I know the extra work is going to be tough on you while we’re away, and I want you to know how much Caleb and I appreciate you allowing us this time together before the baby comes.”
A flush darkened Patrick’s neck and cheekbones. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he shifted from one boot to the other. “You haven’t been married to my brother long enough to know there’s nothing I won’t do for family.”
Leanna’s heart soared with hope. Family loyalty. She’d sell her soul for it. Oh, how she longed to be a part of a big clan like the Landers’. She crossed her fingers and said a prayer that her announcement wouldn’t test Patrick’s family bonds.
Brooke went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Patrick’s flushed cheek. “Well, this is certainly above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you.”
His blush intensified. “No big deal. Caleb would do the same for me.” He ducked out quickly and closed the door.
What was Caleb thinking to hire a kid to baby-sit him?
All right, Patrick admitted as he crossed the yard, maybe his past escapades might lead some to think he needed a watchdog. But a kid? Okay, so Leanna wasn’t exactly a kid, but she was too damned young to have the experience necessary to handle the huge responsibility of hostess on a dude ranch during peak season no matter what she said.
He glanced back over his shoulder and there she stood, framed in the kitchen window. Big hazel eyes. A pouty mouth. Curves a man would need a road map to get around. Attraction was a distraction he didn’t need right now.
It didn’t help that she had a sense of humor. He chuckled. Vacuum. Right. He’d been trying to warn her off and she’d put him in his place.
He made a beeline for the barn to escape the sun baking his hide and spotted a station wagon parked near his truck. Probably hers, judging by the out-of-state tags.
Slowing his steps, he looked through the windows. Had she packed everything she owned into the back of her wagon? You’d think the gal didn’t have a home to return to. He shook his head and shrugged off the questions piling up in his brain. Not his problem. She’d hostess awhile and then haul her load back to California. End of story.
The barn was dark, but still hotter than Hades, and the humidity was thick enough to drown in. The windows to the tack room were open, but that didn’t matter since not even a hint of a breeze stirred the stagnant air. He swiped the sweat from his brow, snatched up the phone and punched in his home number. His father picked up.
“What’re you doing, Pop?”
“Same damned thing I was doing last time you called.”
“Well, take a break and get out of the heat. It’s hotter than the devil’s hearth today.”
“You’d be more likely to know about the devil than most of us, I reckon, but I ain’t got time for lollygag-gin’.”
“And I don’t have time to haul you to the clinic for heat stroke. It’s your turn to fix lunch. Why don’t you head inside and make us a couple of sandwiches and a cold drink. I’m on my way.”
Patrick hung up on his father’s grumbling and hiked toward his pickup.
Stubborn ol’ coot. His father was aging right before his eyes. The workload was too heavy for just the two of them, but his dad was as obstinate as a mule about hiring anyone to help. Said money was too tight to squeeze in another salary. Swore he’d pick up any slack his sons’ marriages had created.
Not without killing himself. Maybe both of them.
Patrick couldn’t refuse his brother’s request to manage the dude ranch while he and Brooke were away, but he sure didn’t know how he’d juggle the family spread and the Double C Dude Ranch and keep his father from working too hard at the same time. But he would. Dammit, he would.
It meant temporarily giving up poker, beer and women until Caleb returned, but he could handle hard work and celibacy for a short spell without going insane. Probably.
He’d call Caleb later and ask him about those college kids he’d turned away. Hiring them would be another bone of contention between him and his father, but what was one more? It seemed these days he and Pop fought about everything.
He jerked to a stop at the sight of a set of prime hind quarters bent over the open hood of the station wagon. Leanna might wear baggy clothes, but nothing could conceal those curves. Not to a man with eyes in his head, anyway. He tamped down his reaction and reminded himself that he had no time for detours.
“Problem?”
She spun around and a shy smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “The engine smelled a little hot when I arrived, but everything looks and sounds okay now.”
He bit down on the urge to flex his muscles and smile back. Something in the way the Double C’s newest employee looked at him made him feel ten feet tall. She was definitely too darn young for him.
So why did one shy glance from her hit him like a sucker punch in the gut?
He stifled the urge to help. This wasn’t his problem, even though damsels in distress were his number-one weakness. Heck, women period were his weakness, but starting today, he was on a woman-free diet.
A quick check of her car’s reservoir told him it held plenty of antifreeze. The engine wasn’t in danger of overheating and it sounded normal. “Pete’s Garage is on the way to the Pink Palace. If you’re worried, get him to take a look.”
“The Pink Palace?”
In the bright sunlight he noticed the dapple of faded freckles on her nose and cheeks and the golden streaks in her light-brown hair. She was cute, in an all-American girl-next-door kind of way. He preferred women with a little more flash and a lot more experience, but heaven help the men on the spread—and him—if she ever slapped on a layer of war paint or squeezed herself into tight blue jeans.
“Penny’s place. It used to be a whor—brothel.”
A blush crawled up her neck and spread to her hairline. That blush was a sure sign she was out of his league. Only virgins blushed like that, and he adhered to a strict no-virgins policy. Virgin hearts broke too easily. Virgins expected a guy to be loyal, but he was his mother’s son. Loyalty wasn’t encoded on his DNA.
Leanna was off-limits. Taboo.
If he repeated the words often enough he might remember ’em.
“I’ll