Lonesome Ryder. Carol Finch
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should’ve had my head examined when I agreed to send a notorious ladies’ man and a world-class practical joker to locate a temporary housekeeper. I didn’t much like the idea to begin with and I like it even less now. That woman is not staying at my ranch. Discussion over!”
Quint’s perpetual smile turned upside down as he loomed over Wade. “She’s staying here,” he said in no uncertain terms. “Your accident happened at my ranch and it was Vance’s cantankerous bull that stomped all over you, so we feel responsible. Furthermore, you stepped in front of us like a shield when that cursed bull came after us when we separated him from his harem of cows. You received extra points for heroism for that maneuver and you took the brunt of abuse that bull dealt out.”
“Therefore,” Vance put in as he came to loom beside Quint, “we are paying Laura’s salary because that’s only fair. We made a pact years back to trade off our work and share our ranch chores so we could cut down on the expenses of hiring extra help during cattle drives, branding, inoculation, hauling livestock to market and planting crops. That was the deal. When one of us needs help the other two assist. We share our tractors, machinery, corrals and breeding stock.”
Yeah, they did, Wade silently agreed. The arrangement had worked splendidly and saved time and expenses—until he’d ended up in the emergency room at Hoot’s Roost Hospital and was informed by the doctor on duty that he’d be taking a forced vacation for the next six to eight weeks.
“You can growl, snarl and fuss at us all you want,” Quint invited, “but Laura Seymour isn’t leaving until we say so. You can’t fire her because we hired her. I suppose you could put her up in your hired man’s bunkhouse, but that’d make you look more ungrateful and unappreciative than you do now.”
If Quint thought the remark would jump-start Wade’s conscience he could forget it. Wade’s conscience had disowned him about fifteen minutes earlier. “Fine, put my new housekeeper’s luggage in Duff’s cabin. She can cook in his cracker-box kitchen and tote my meals up to the house.”
Vance rolled his eyes in disgust. “C’mon, Wade. Duff doesn’t even have a dishwasher. The appliance he refers to as a stove only has one functioning burner and the temperature regulator on the oven doesn’t work.”
“Plus,” Quint added, “Duff’s washing machine is almost an antique. Hell, it doesn’t agitate as easily as you do. You can’t make Laura haul laundry and meals from the bunkhouse to here. That’d be cruel and unusual punishment.”
Wade sighed audibly. Okay. So he was overreacting—a little. Maybe. But he still didn’t want that woman underfoot. Hell, he could still smell the lingering scent of her perfume. If he dared to shut his eyes he predicted he’d see Laura’s alluring vision standing in the sunlight that streamed through the east window, making her blond hair glitter like spun gold. She looked too dainty and refined to fit into life on a working ranch. She also appeared too petite to haul around heavy loads of laundry and move furniture to dust and vacuum. No, she looked like the kind of woman who needed—expected—to be waited on hand and foot by a man.
“Now, you be nice to Laura,” Quint ordered, wagging his index finger in Wade’s face. “Vance and I are doing you a favor by giving you time to recuperate. We’ve got cattle—yours as well as ours—to brand and inoculate. We don’t have time to keep house, feed you and do your laundry. I don’t have to tell you that this is one of our busiest times of the year.”
No, he didn’t, Wade thought sourly. He was going to be sitting here, feeling as if he’d let his cousins down while they busted their fannies working cattle, swathing and baling hay to provide winter forage. Wade was used to working hard, right alongside his cousins. Inactivity was going to drive him nuts. Having Laura Seymour— and he preferred to See Less of her—would drive him straight down the road to Nutsville.
“We’re not budging on this,” Vance said. His customary good-natured smile was suddenly nonexistent and he stared somberly at Wade. “Laura is here to stay so you better get used to the idea. We’ll be around to check on you, same as you’d do if one of us was laid up, because family’s family and we stick together through thin and thick.”
“Damn straight,” Quint chimed in. “We’re doing this for your own good.” True to form, Quint couldn’t remain serious overly long and his famous lady-killer grin returned full force. “Besides, cuz, that new high school teacher is hot and there hasn’t been a woman in your house, aside from your mother and our mothers, for six years.”
“Exactly right and I’d planned to keep it that way until you two bozos decided to have a little fun at my expense,” Wade grumbled bitterly. “Just remember that payback’s a bitch and I’ll definitely be repaying you for this stunt.”
His cousins shrugged, undaunted, and Quint said, “Bring it on, cuz. Just don’t forget that when we rodeoed together we were every bit as tough as you, so you better bring along your lunch, ’cause it’ll take you all day to pound us both flat.”
Wade was aware that pounding his cousins into the ground would require considerable time and effort. When he and his cousins followed the rodeo’s suicide circuit nobody messed with the Ryder cousins who’d been all for one and one for all—still were. Same went for Cousin Gage who’d traveled the circuit with them. When one of them got banged up or broke a bone while riding broncs or bulldogging the other three covered as best they could. They pooled their winnings, shared expenses and helped each other through hard times.
Right now, Wade should be feeling grateful for the loyalty and support, but the prospect of having a woman in his home after all these years was setting as well as an indigestible meal on a queasy stomach.
A thought suddenly occurred to Wade that made him feel a smidgen better. Maybe he couldn’t fire the goddess who’d been hired to keep house while he recuperated, but he could antagonize her until she quit. It wouldn’t take much, he predicted confidently. He’d leveled one mutinous glare on her earlier and she’d backed off.
Like most women, she’d be outta here when the going got tough—and he’d make sure it did. If Little Miss Schoolmarm thought she’d taken a cushy job and latched onto a prosperous rancher as an added bonus then she better think again. He already had one ex-wife’s memory to remind him that women weren’t worth the trouble. He’d also had enough rodeo groupies hovering around him to know females were only interested in what a cowboy had in his wallet—and his blue jeans.
Yes indeedy, Laura Seymour would be as good as gone after Wade made things difficult for her. He’d give her two days. Three days tops. She’d pack her bags and hightail it into Hoot’s Roost to rent an apartment.
“Okay, fine,” Wade agreed begrudgingly. “She can stay…for a while.”
“Great!” Vance and Quint chorused.
Quint spun on his boot heels and headed for the front door. “I’ll bring in Laura’s luggage.”
“And I’ll help,” Vance insisted then shot Wade a mischievous grin. “We’ll put her stuff in the bedroom next door to yours so you can call for help…if you need some in the middle of the night.”
Need some in the middle of the night? Wade clenched his one good hand into a fist as his cousins swaggered off, cackling like a couple of hens. “Ornery cusses,” he muttered at his cousins’ departing backs. He was in the middle of a full-blown crisis and they were busting a gut laughing—at his expense. They didn’t have a clue how he’d felt when Bobbie Lynn betrayed him, rejected him, deceived him and ran off with her new lover. If that wasn’t enough to sour a man on women then Wade didn’t know what was.
These days, Wade rebelled and withdrew the instant he felt a serious attraction to a woman. And he’d damn sure felt the hum and sizzle of physical awareness the instant Laura Seymour entered the room and stood there in the shaft of sunlight that spotlighted every appealing feature of her face and emphasized the voluptuous curves on her body.
Ms. Temptation had definitely arrived on the scene and Wade wanted her gone—ASAP. He’d