Seduce Me, Cowboy. Maisey Yates
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have to go outside and take care of the horses, but I want you to go through that stack of invoices and enter all the information into the spreadsheet on the computer. Can you do that?”
“Spreadsheets are my specialty. You have horses?”
He nodded. “This is kind of a ranch.”
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize.”
“No reason you should.” Then he turned, grabbing a black cowboy hat off a hook and putting it firmly on his head. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. And I’m going to want more coffee. The machine is downstairs in the kitchen. Should be pretty easy. Probably.”
Then he brushed his fingertips against the brim of his hat, nodding slightly before walking out, leaving her alone.
When he left, something in her chest loosened, eased. She hadn’t realized just how tense she’d felt in his presence.
She took a deep breath, sitting down at the desk in front of the computer, eyeing the healthy stack of papers to her left. Then she looked over the monitor to the view below. This wouldn’t be so bad. He wasn’t here looking over her shoulder, barking orders. And really, in terms of work space, this office could hardly be beat.
Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
* * *
By the time Jonathan made a run to town after finishing up with the horses, it was past lunchtime. So he brought food from the Crab Shanty and hoped his new assistant didn’t have a horrible allergy to seafood.
He probably should have checked. He wasn’t really used to considering other people. And he couldn’t say he was looking forward to getting used to it. But he would rather she didn’t die. At least, not while at work.
He held tightly to the white bag of food as he made his way to the office. Her back was to the door, her head bent low over a stack of papers, one hand poised on the mouse.
He set the bag down loudly on the table by the doorway, then deposited his keys there, too. He hung his hat on the hook. “Hungry?”
Her head popped up, her eyes wide. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me. You should have announced yourself or something.”
“I just did. I said, ‘hungry?’ I mean, I could have said I’m here, but how is that any different?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have an answer to that.”
“Great. I have fish.”
“What kind?”
“Fried kind.”
“I approve.”
He sighed in mock relief. “Good. Because if you didn’t, I don’t know how I would live with myself. I would have had to eat both of these.” He opened the bag, taking out two cartons and two cans of Coke.
He sat in the chair in front of the table he used for drawing plans, then held her portion toward her.
She made a funny face, then accepted the offered lunch. “Is one of the Cokes for me, too?”
“Sure,” he said, sliding a can at her.
She blinked, then took the can.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“You expected me to hand everything to you, didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe. But, I’m sorry. I don’t work with my father anymore, as you have mentioned more than once.”
“No,” he said, “you don’t. And this isn’t a church. Though—” he took a french fry out of the box and bit it “—this is pretty close to a religious experience.” He picked up one of the thoughtfully included napkins and wiped his fingers before popping the top on the Coke can.
“How did you know I worked at the church?” she asked.
“I pay attention. And I definitely looked at the address you included on your form. Also, I know your brother. Or rather, I know of him. My sister is engaged to his brother-in-law. I might not be chummy with him, but I know his dad is the pastor. And that he has a younger sister.”
She looked crestfallen. “I didn’t realize you knew my brother.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I was trying to get a job based on my own merit. Not on family connections. And frankly, I can’t find anyone who is not connected to my family in some way in this town. My father knows the saints, my brother knows the sinners.”
“Are you calling me a sinner?”
She picked gingerly at a piece of fish. “All have sinned and so forth.”
“That isn’t what you meant.”
She suddenly became very interested in her coleslaw, prodding it with her plastic fork.
“How is it you know I’m a sinner?” he asked, not intending to let her off the hook, because this was just so fun. Hell, he’d gone and hired himself a church secretary, so might as well play with her a little bit.
“I didn’t mean that,” she insisted, her cheeks turning pink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush.
“Well, if it helps at all, I don’t know your brother well. I just buy alcohol from him on the weekends. But you’re right. I am a sinner, Hayley.”
She looked up at him then. The shock reflected in those stormy eyes touched him down deep. Made his stomach feel tight, made his blood feel hot. All right, he needed to get a handle on himself. Because that was not the kind of fun he was going to have with the church secretary he had hired. No way.
Jonathan Bear was a ruthless bastard; that fact could not be disputed. He had learned to look out for himself at an early age, because no one else would. Not his father. Certainly not his mother, who had taken off when he was a teenager, leaving him with a younger sister to raise. And most definitely not anyone in town.
But, even he had a conscience.
In theory, anyway.
“Good to know. I mean, since we’re getting to know each other, I guess.”
They ate in relative silence after that. Jonathan took that opportunity to check messages on his phone. A damn smartphone. This was what he had come to. Used to be that if he wanted to spend time alone he could unplug and go out on his horse easily enough. Now, he could still do that, but his business partners—dammit all, he had business partners—knew that he should be accessible and was opting not to be.
“Why did you leave the church?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.
“I didn’t. I mean, not as a member. But, I couldn’t work there anymore. You know, I woke up one morning and looked in the mirror and imagined doing that exact same thing in forty years. Sitting behind that desk, in the same chair, talking to the same people, having the same conversations... I just didn’t think I could do it. I thought...well, for a long time I thought if I sat in that chair life would come to me.” She took a deep breath. “But it won’t. I have to go get it.”
What she was talking about... That kind of stability. It was completely foreign to him. Jonathan could scarcely remember a time in his life when things had stayed the same from year to year. He would say one thing for poverty, it was dynamic. It could be a grind, sure, but it kept you on your toes. He’d constantly looked for new ways to support himself and Rebecca. To prove to child services that he was a fit guardian. To keep their dwelling up to par, to make sure they could always afford it. To keep them both fed and clothed—or at least her, if not him.
He had always craved what Hayley was talking about. A place secure enough to rest for a while. But not having it was why he was here now. In this house, with all this money. Which was the only real