Maverick for Hire. Leanne Banks
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She shrugged. “No one likes to look desperate. But the truth is I haven’t clicked with any of the guys I’ve met. That makes me wonder if I should go back to Thunder Canyon. Maybe the pastures here aren’t as green as I’d thought they would be.”
“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Are you gonna take your turn?”
Cecelia scowled again. “Okay, okay,” she said and sailed her dart dead center.
Nick cursed under his breath again.
“I think I’m ahead, now,” she said.
Nick frowned at her. “Maybe you haven’t given Rust Creek the full shot you should have.”
“I’ve been here for over a year,” she protested.
“Yeah, but you haven’t really—” He broke off. “Tried.”
“Tried?” she echoed. “I’ve gone out on a lot of dates. Trust me.”
“Yeah, but have you tried to sell yourself?”
“Sell myself?” she said, clearly appalled. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t mean selling yourself that way.” He paused. “I mean that, in general, women need to sell men.”
She looked at him skeptically. “This sounds shady.”
Nick shrugged. “The truth is, the man is...the customer. You need to sell him in order to lasso him in.”
“That’s disgusting,” she said. “Disgusting.”
“It’s not,” he protested. “It’s the truth. A lot of men need to be shown what they want. Once they learn that, they’re ready to surrender to the noose of marriage.”
“Noose?” she echoed.
“That’s my interpretation. My brothers got married and they’re no fun anymore,” he said.
“According to whom?” she asked.
“According to me,” he said. “They always want to stay home with their wives.”
“Doesn’t that mean they’re happy to be with their wives?” she asked.
“I guess,” he said. “I just know I don’t want to become as boring as they are.”
Cecelia shook her head. “I’m so glad I know what a playboy you are,” she said.
“I’m not a playboy,” he said, pointing to himself. “I’m just trying to make some money. That’s why I started my Maverick for Hire business. A lot of women have been interested in giving me a honey-do list, so it just makes sense for me to make a full-time job out of it. You know what I did—put an advertisement in the Rust Creek Rambler newspaper for my handyman services, and I’ve been busy ever since. But we’ve gotten off track. You’re the one with the problem. If you want a man, Cecelia, you need to treat him like he’s a customer. I can tell you how.”
Horrified, Cecelia blinked at him. “I’m telling you that sounds an awful lot like prostitution.”
He shook his head. “You know I don’t mean that.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Cece, you know I think you’re great the way you are, but other guys want a little—” he shrugged his shoulders “—glamour.”
“Glamour?” she echoed. “In Rust Creek Falls?”
“Yeah, well, we’re a simple lot,” he said and scrunched up his face. “Do you really want to leave Rust Creek Falls?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking away from him. “I just haven’t felt like I belonged here lately. And the truth is I was hoping I’d meet someone special here. Kind of like Jazzy did.”
He sighed. “I’d hate to lose my best bud,” he said. “You’re the only woman I know who doesn’t want me for my amazing body,” he said, joking. “Or to fix something in her house.
Cecelia rolled her eyes. “That’s your own fault for being such a flirt.”
He leaned toward her. “It’s not my fault all these women want my handyman services.”
“You’re profiting from it. Stop complaining,” she said.
“But—”
“Hey there, Nick,” a pretty brunette said as she bumped into him. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you!”
Cecelia noticed the woman was slurring her words.
“Hey, Daphne, good to see you again. I’ve been working hard lately,” he said. “How about you?”
She pointed her index finger at his chest. “I think we could be good together.”
Nick sighed. “You seem a little wobbly. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said and batted her eyelashes.
“I’m thinking you need to go home. Where are you living now?”
She sifted her fingers through his hair. “I’m renting a trailer out by Route 46.”
“How about you let me take you home?” he asked.
“I would love that,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
“Then, let’s go,” he said and tossed a backward glance at Cecelia. Designated driver again, he mouthed then shook his head as he took the woman’s arm and led her to toward the door.
Cecelia watched them leave then turned around and sent a dart directly into the bull’s-eye. She didn’t want to be judgmental, but she had a pretty good idea the pretty brunette was part of the Rust Creek Falls Gal Rush. Ever since Lissa’s blog about her time in Rust Creek Falls—and her proposal from the local sheriff—had gotten national recognition there just didn’t seem to be enough men to go around.
As if Cecelia didn’t have enough competition getting the attention of the local guys already. Feeling restless, she tossed the rest of her darts at the board. No need to hang around the bar any longer since Nick wasn’t here to amuse her. He would be busy with that pretty brunette who’d been dressed for prowling from head to toe. Long, perfectly arranged wavy hair, a face well enhanced with makeup and eyelashes so long they almost looked like spiders.
Cecelia rolled her eyes. She didn’t own a lick of makeup, and she was very firm about wearing her hair in a ponytail. The last time she’d neglected to pull her dark hair back, a circular saw had whacked off part of one side. She supposed her body wasn’t bad, but since she worked construction, she kept it well hidden beneath comfortable shirts and jeans.
Glancing down at her steel-toed boots, she felt another scrape of dissatisfaction.
Maybe she could borrow the kitchen at Strickland’s Boarding House, where she’d been staying since she arrived in Rust Creek Falls. Otherwise, she would be subjected to whatever she could get on her television. Thank goodness, Nick had bought and installed a satellite dish. He was also staying at Strickland’s, and he wanted sports. She wanted the cooking channel.
Cecelia stalked out of the bar and made the short walk to the rooming house. She took a deep breath and savored the pure Montana air. She wondered if Melba, the rooming house owner, would let Cecelia take over the kitchen tonight to experiment with a fresh apple cake recipe. Cecelia liked to bake, especially when she felt restless.
She climbed the steps into the rooming house and walked toward the den in the back. Melba was glued to the television.
“Hi,” Cecelia said. “What are you watching?”
“Reality show,” Melba said. “It’s the semifinals.”
“Do you mind if I use the kitchen