So Tough To Tame. Victoria Dahl
Читать онлайн книгу.
Walker glanced at the guy. His name was Tom, but Walker didn’t know more about him than that. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He tipped his chin toward the foreman. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, see how you did. Too many years at one of these dude ranches can make for a soft cowboy.”
“You think?”
Tom shrugged. “Teaching pretty ladies how to ride?” He shot Walker an arch look, but he smiled and shook his head when Walker met it with a straight face. “Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. Just saying if you’re used to having a warm woman at hand, it might make it harder to face a cold night on the range.”
“Yeah, well. They bring their own sets of problems.”
“Don’t I know it? Anyway, the back end of the operation is pretty quiet. No guests out here. Obviously Kingham’s not ‘customer service oriented.’”
“Yeah, I worked here ten years ago. Kingham wasn’t here, but I know they only use a few dozen head of cattle in the guest areas and keeps the rest of the work behind the scenes.”
“Well, you don’t seem soft. I’ll put in a good word.”
“Thanks.” Walker was thankful, but not as thrilled as he should’ve been at the prospect of a permanent job. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe he had gotten soft. He looked toward the distant buildings of the guest ranch almost hidden in the long evening shadows cast by the hills. But they weren’t headed there. The working side of the ranch had its own outbuildings and trailers. The guest ranch was only an attractive outbranch of an operation that ran two thousand head of cattle every year.
It’d be good work, but Walker’s heart fell. He’d gotten used to being around people. Ten or fifteen cowhands, the whole staff of the lodge, the clients: moms and dads and lots of kids. And yes, the occasionally group of raucous ladies looking for a mountain adventure.
Working at a dude ranch was a hell of a lot of fun.
This assignment, on the other hand... Well, shit. At least he could go back to his own place every night. That, and the steady income was probably the best he could say about it.
Freezing rain hit his hat in a slow patter before it picked up to a steady drizzle. The rain left him feeling even more defeated. Apparently he could’ve just left the damn heifer wet and muddy, because she was about to get that way again.
Turning his collar up, he concentrated on edging in a few cattle who were trying to break off from the herd. Soon enough, he was tracking mud and water into his truck and leaving for home, his pay for the day’s work stuffed into his pocket. He’d earn another few bucks tomorrow. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was something. He’d rather not dip into his savings any more than he had to.
Body aching from the cold, Walker cranked up the heat in the truck, then cranked up his favorite George Strait album, as well. No point dwelling on his problems. If he’d wanted stability, he’d chosen the wrong career. At least it came with damn good music.
He was just settling into a good fantasy about the scalding shower he was about to take when his cell phone rang, and his fantasy morphed to something else.
Maybe what he needed was a shower and a beer and a woman in his bed. He pulled the phone from his pocket, already wondering which old friend it could be. Granted, in the past few years, most of his lovers had been brief hookups with ranch visitors, but there were always a few—
His fantasy of a quiet night of good sex died when he saw the display.
Nicole.
Apparently she’d let go of her anger. But Walker hadn’t let go of his, if that’s what it was. Anger at her, maybe, or just at himself. He’d been stupid enough to mess around with another man’s wife. That didn’t mean he had to make it worse.
He declined the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. A shower and a beer and his hand, then. Good enough. And a hell of a lot smarter than a bad-news woman.
He was so tired by the time he pulled up to the apartment, his hand would’ve been the only good choice, regardless. He’d never been the kind of guy to get off and go straight to sleep. Taking care of a woman the right way was hard work, and he didn’t have it in him tonight.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Normally, he’d never have gotten into his truck covered in mud, but there’d been no bunkhouse washroom to clean up in. And he couldn’t face cleaning off his floor mats tonight. Or the seat. And tomorrow would likely be just as muddy. He’d take care of it when the job was done.
A knock on the window startled him out of his stupor. He rolled down the window and was surprised to see Charlie’s face a few inches from his.
“Hey, cowboy!” She held both hands over her head as if to shield herself from the few raindrops still falling.
A smile stole immediately over his mouth. “Hey, Charlie. What are you doing out?”
“Heading to the saloon. Are you coming over?”
His gaze slipped to the porch of the saloon as he reached for the door. Charlie hopped back as he eased the door open and got out. He stretched his back. Yet again, he found himself turning down a good time. “I’m sorry. I’m beat. I need a shower as soon as possible. And then bed.” He cleared his throat, knowing what he meant by bed and telling himself she couldn’t have any idea.
Her eyes swept down his body. “You are kind of a mess. You look like...”
“I’ve been wrestling cattle in the mud?”
“Something like that.” Her eyes lingered on the mud smeared across his shirt. “So shower and then come play.”
Come play. Jesus, did she say that kind of thing on purpose? “I wish I could.”
“Aw. Are you really too tired?” Her little smirk was a challenge. He wanted to accept it.
He found himself leaning a little closer before remembering that he smelled like horse and mud and sweat. “I’d love to. But after I take a shower, I won’t be able to talk myself into going back out in the cold.”
“Well, I can’t fault that, I guess. But I won’t lie. After the day I had, I’d be willing to dare a lot of discomfort for a drink.”
“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.
Charlie opened her mouth; then her eyes swept down his body again and she shook her head. “All right. I wasn’t exactly wrestling cattle in the mud. I suppose I’ll recover from the office politics.”
“Hell, Charlie. Any redneck can wrestle a cow. Put me in a room with computers and the kind of work you do, and I’d look like a trapped bear.”
A wide smile spread slowly over her face. “I admit, I can’t imagine you dressed in creased pants and sitting at a computer.”
“Aw, shit, darlin’. Nobody can. That’s why I’ll never be anything but a dirty cowboy.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she purred. “Hard work is a beautiful thing, Walker Pearce. It really is.”
“Jesus, Charlie,” he said, huffing out a shocked laugh.
“Go on and take your shower. Get cleaned up and maybe I’ll take pity on you and bring you a beer later.”
“Ha. I’ll be sure not to still be in a towel, then.”
“Don’t get all dressed up on my account.” With that, she sauntered off toward the saloon, her ass a sweet, swinging demand for attention.
Suddenly, Walker wasn’t half so tired. In fact, he felt like a man who’d just gotten home from a two-week vacation. Or so he assumed. He’d never had more than a few days off at a time, but one thing he’d learned was how to jam a hell of a lot of good time into a quick