What The Rancher Wants.... Lucy Monroe
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She’d bristled with feminine pride and it had been all he could do not to laugh. She was naïve if she thought most of the women who entered his life didn’t see him as a potential meal ticket complete with caviar and silver spoons.
She didn’t know it, but it hadn’t been rude for him to set things straight from the beginning. It had been fair and he was a fair man. She had a right to know where he was coming from. He wanted her and he meant to have her, but he wasn’t interested in marriage.
He’d wanted her from the moment he opened his door, irritated by the second ringing of chimes set off by the impatient person waiting on the other side. The woman standing on the other side had been so far from what he’d expected that he’d felt sucker punched. And horny.
No doubt about it. He had been too long without the company of a woman, but he’d had the good sense to hire Carlene and soon that would be rectified.
CHAPTER TWO
CARLENE liked Shorty, the ranch hand Win had assigned to help her in the kitchen, the minute she met him. He had a grin that more than made up for his lack in stature. Soft gray eyes twinkled under a crown of silvered hair. “Well, missy, Win says you don’t got a hill of beans in experience, but I’m to help you learn the ropes. You know anything about cooking?”
She laughed. “I’d have to be pretty dumb to take a job as housekeeper and cook if I didn’t, now, wouldn’t I? Do I look dumb to you?”
Shorty sized her up as if he was seriously contemplating his answer to that question and Carlene’s respect for him went up a notch. The man kept his eyes focused mainly on her face.
“No, missy, you don’t look dumb at all. That must mean you can cook.” He sighed with relief. “It’s a good thing. Win and the hands ain’t real fond of my vittles.”
Then why had Win assigned the man to help her in the kitchen? Shorty answered that question for her with his next statement. “None of the hands, including our boss, can do any better. At least I know how to cook food without burning it, even if it isn’t real appetizin’.”
Carlene walked over to the sink and washed her hands. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Shorty. I can cook without burning the food and I’ve been told that my food is better than passable by more than one person.”
“Well, glory be, that’s a relief.”
Carlene hoped that the rest of the ranch hands would share Shorty’s enthusiasm when they filed into the large kitchen for lunch. She’d made French dip sandwiches, Caesar salad and cookies for dessert.
Win took a seat at one end of the table. Shorty sat to his left and a man they called Joe, who looked about the same age as Win, sat to Win’s right. He was introduced as the ranch foreman in charge of the horse and mustang training. Four other hands, ranging in age from just out of high school to another man who looked as wizened and gray as Shorty, sat down. Apparently, most of the hands worked for Joe, while Shorty and one of the youngest men, a brunette with cold gray eyes they introduced as Lonny, worked in the thoroughbred stables with Win.
Carlene placed filled plates in front of each man, beginning with Win. She didn’t realize that she’d been waiting for his approval until he looked up and nodded. “Looks good.”
She quietly said, “Thank you,” and continued passing out plates, feeling ridiculously pleased. After serving everyone, she turned back to the counter where she had lined up the ingredients for the pies she planned to make.
“Aren’t you going to eat with us, ma’am?” Joe asked.
She turned around, waiting to see if Win would second the hand’s invitation to join them. When he didn’t, she replied, “I’ll eat later. I’ve got work to do.”
“Aw shucks, ma’am, we’d be pleased for your company,” a redhead said.
Lonny gave Carlene a knowing look and patted the bench next to him. “You can sit right here, Carlene.”
Normally, she would have just laughed off an invitation like that from such a young man, but there was an intensity about Lonny that made Carlene nervous. The cold ruthlessness in his eyes reminded her of the student that had torn her life in Texas to shreds. She suppressed a shiver, reminding herself that there was no disgruntled principal here to help Lonny hurt her. There was just Win and she could not see him stooping to the lengths her ex-boss had even if she rejected him.
She managed to swallow a rude comeback to Lonny’s comment, not wanting to offend Win’s other employees her first day on the job. “No, thank you. As I said, I’ve got work to do.”
She shifted her gaze to Win, wondering what he thought of the exchange.
The look he was giving the younger man was cold and deadly. He turned slightly so that he was looking directly at her, his gaze warming several degrees. “Do what’s comfortable for your schedule, but don’t skip your lunch.”
She smiled at the order. “Yes, boss.”
He nodded. “If you’re hungry now, the men’ll move so you can sit by Shorty.”
It didn’t escape her notice, or that of his men, if Lonny’s narrowed eyes were an indication, that Win’s dictate would place her next to him as well. Carlene didn’t mind. Compared to Lonny, Win was a much safer bet. She had no doubt that sitting between him and Shorty she wouldn’t have to fend off any roaming hands under the table.
She considered Win’s offer. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it would set a precedent for the future. If she ate with them now, human nature dictated that the hands would recognize that whenever she shared their table, her place would be between Win and Shorty.
Her stomach chose that moment to make a rumbling sound and the men laughed while she smiled, embarrassed. “I guess I’ll eat now.”
Several hours later after preparing a dinner that only required Shorty to heat things through before serving them, Carlene got ready to leave. Her feet didn’t hurt as much as after a night tending bar, but her back ached from a different kind of labor. She’d spent the day cooking, cleaning and trying to decipher the written instructions Rosa had left behind in a confusing mixture of Spanish and English.
She wondered what had caused the other woman to abandon her job so abruptly.
“You sure know your way around a ranch kitchen,” Shorty commented from behind as she pulled off her apron and hung it on the hook by the refrigerator.
She turned and smiled at him. “Thanks. I grew up in west Texas cow country.”
“Congratulations, Shorty. You got more information out of her in five minutes than I was able to do during her interview.”
Carlene’s head snapped up at the sound of Win’s amused voice from the doorway to the dining room. He leaned against the doorjamb, a lazy smile on his face and looking handsome as sin. He was dressed much as he’d been for her interview, except today his T-shirt was black instead of dark blue and a cowboy hat hung loosely from his fingers next to his thigh.
She wished he’d stop smiling at her like that. It made her forget what she was going to do next. Forcing herself to focus on his words and not his mouth, she said, “You didn’t ask.”
He came into the kitchen sniffing at the casserole in the oven with an appreciative air. “Smells good.”
“Thank you.”
He lifted the linen towel covering the two marionberry pies she’d made for dinner. She’d used the native Oregon fruit, figuring the men would appreciate the plump, tangy blackberry-style filling. “You’re wrong, you know,” he said as he put the cover back over the pies.
“Wrong about what?” she asked, feeling breathless for no apparent reason.
“I did ask.” He turned to face her. “I distinctly remember asking if you had any experience.”