Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: A Ranch for His Family\Cowgirl in High Heels\A Man to Believe In (29 page)

“Thank you.” She shifted her weight, wishing she wasn't feeling the urge to let her eyes travel slowly down his long body. “When would be a good time to meet with you?”

He looked over her head, out at the pastures, seemed to debate then said, “Whenever you want.”

“Half an hour? At the house?”

Ryan shrugged. “Sure. Half an hour.”

“See you then.”

* * *

R
YAN
SLOWLY
CLOSED
the door. This woman was here to evaluate the ranch? Great timing.

He watched through the half-open curtains as she walked across the graveled drive toward the main house. Ellison Hunter wore jeans that hugged her legs, a long expensive-looking sweater and flat ballerina shoes. Her dark blond hair was twisted up into one of those French-roll things that made him want to pull out the pins and let it fall back down. Cool and elegant, she didn't look like any kind of ranch expert he'd ever seen, but looks could be deceiving. One of the best ropers he'd ever encountered was a sixty-five-year-old grandmother. And she wasn't half bad at flanking and throwing, either.

Ellison disappeared into the main house and Ryan stepped away from the window and headed back into the bedroom to find a decent shirt.

Damn. What was this about? It figured that the new owners were going to do something with the ranch, since it was, despite what Walt seemed to think, theirs. Walt had been hoping that the Bradworths would be like the new owners of the old Trail Creek Ranch and never set foot on the place, instead using it as some kind of a tax dodge, and, frankly, so had he. Not to be.

Twenty-five minutes later Ryan knocked on the main-house door. Ellison answered almost immediately and he noticed that she'd put on makeup. Nothing major—just brownish eyeliner that made her green eyes seem larger, and lip gloss. Her hair had been smoothed and she had changed out of the long sweater for a white blouse and black jacket that, despite the jeans, made her seem much more...official.

He didn't have a good feeling about official.

Or maybe it was just that he hated being in the dark. Until matters were settled with the family and Walt came to terms with whatever their plans were, things could be a bit dicey.

“Have a seat,” Ellison said, waving him to one of a set of leather chairs near the tall windows looking out into the semitamed backyard. Walt had never been much for landscaping, but on Mrs. Bradworth's first visit she had made it clear that the lawn was to be mowed regularly and the bushes trimmed back. Flowers would be nice. Unfortunately, the deer and rabbits had thought flowers were nice, too, resulting in a lot of stems and not many flowers.

After Ryan sat, Ellison took the opposite chair with her back to the windows and settled a yellow legal pad on her knee. Then she smiled at him. A cool, professional, put-you-at-ease smile that only served to tense him up. He'd seen a similar smile once before—just before getting laid off from his last job during college.

“Just a bit about me,” she said. “I work in the field of human resources, so I tend to focus on employees as...well, resources.”

Cool. He was a resource. With her fake, distant smile, she looked like the type who saw employees as resources rather than people.

“Employees are the most valuable component of a smooth-running operation, as I'm sure you know.”

The nasty feeling in the pit of Ryan's stomach intensified. “This place runs smoothly.”

She smiled again, kind of, and clicked open her pen. “I'd like to talk to everyone employed here, find out what it is you do and how it contributes to the overall operation of the ranch.”

“Is this a formal evaluation?”

“Not really. It's more of a get-to-know-the-operation evaluation.” She cocked her head. “That's not a problem, is it?”

There was no way to answer that question honestly.

“It's just a surprise, you showing up to get to know the operation,” Ryan said smoothly.

“My aunt told Mr. Feldman I was coming a week ago, so my visit is not really a surprise,” she replied in a reasonable voice.

As he'd thought. And Walt hadn't said a thing until the very last minute when he'd phoned Jessie to send the keys and then gone off on his bender. Or perhaps he'd called midbender.

“The informal evaluation part,” he said. “Did your aunt mention it to Walt?” Because he didn't believe Walt would have kept that secret. An evaluation was something they needed to prepare for—or at the very least, prepare Walt for.

“Actually, I'm not certain,” Ellison replied.

None of this felt good, but good or bad, he had to deal with it. Ryan leaned back in his chair. “What do you want to know?”

Ellison squared up her notepad. “What is your job title?”

“Cowboy.”

“No. Really.”

He spread his palms in an I-don't-know-what-else-to-say gesture and she frowned as she realized he was serious. She wrote
cowboy
after his name.

“I guess you could call me a ranch hand, if it makes you feel better.”

“No, I'm fine with cowboy. And your duties are?”

Ryan leaned his head back slightly as he debated where to begin. “What season?”

Ellison's eyebrows arched before she said with a faint note of challenge in her voice, “Spring.”

“Calving, branding, fencing. First cutting of alfalfa. Evaluate the grazing.”

Ellison made a note. “Summer?”

“Haying, fencing. Vaccinating. Moving cattle. Irrigating.” A movement outside the window caught his eye. A blue jay had landed on the flat box sitting on the picnic table. The bird turned his head to study the closed flaps through first one eye and then the other.

“Fall?” Ellison asked, and he turned his attention back to her.

“Getting the fields in shape for winter. Fall branding. Preg checking.”

“‘Preg checking'?” Strangely, her cheeks seemed to go a bit pink.

“Seeing which cows are pregnant, then deciding whether to keep or ship those who aren't.”

“Ship?”

“Sell.”

“Winter?”

His mouth curved into a sardonic smile. “In the winter we mend the harness, of course.”

She gave him a cautious sideways glance. “Meaning?”

Did this woman have no sense of humor? “You can't do much in the winter here except for feed the livestock. In the old days, the ranchers and farmers would use the downtime to care for their equipment, which is what we do. Winter servicing. And feeding. And generally just trying to keep everything alive.”

Outside the window the jay starting pecking at the box. Ryan kind of wished he was outside with the bird.

Ellie pointed a finger at the legal pad. “These jobs you've mentioned, could you be more specific about what it is you do?”

“Like make a list or something?”

“If you made a résumé, what skills would you put on it?”

He simply blinked at her. “Am I writing a résumé? Or a job description that you might post somewhere in the future when you hire someone to replace me?” He didn't want to give her ideas, but he didn't want to make it easy to replace him, either.

Ms. Hunter blinked at him. “Neither. I want you to write the list so that the owners can be familiar with exactly what it is you do.”

“Do you want bullet points?”

“Yes.” There was no hint of humor in her voice.

Another jay landed on the picnic table, then two more. A squabble broke out, but the original jay held his position on top of the box.

“I'll do what I can,” Ryan said. “I've been gone a couple days and I have a full schedule today. Maybe I can get something worked up tonight or tomorrow.”

“I'd appreciate it.”

Yeah. I bet you will.
And I bet you'll be wearing that fake smile if you happen to announce you're letting us all go.
If the worst happened, he could get another job, but Walt needed this position and Ryan hated to think about what would happen if he had to move off the place—especially after his wild talk that morning.

“What else—”

Ellison sucked in a sudden breath, cutting him off, and jumped to her feet. It was obvious what had startled her. Birds. Lots of them.

The jays had managed to work open a flap of the box and now five of them were happily pecking at what looked like a pumpkin pie. Ryan rose to his feet and walked over to the window.

It was a pumpkin pie, and he instantly recognized what was left of the pastry leaf design on top.

“You put Jessie's pie out for the birds?” he asked as he turned toward Ellison, whose cheeks were flushed a deep pink.

“No.” The word came out too fast.

“Then why is it out there?”

“I wanted it to cool so I could put it in the fridge.”

“Last I heard fridges did a real good job of cooling.”

Ellison pushed a few stray strands of hair back into place. “The boy who brought it—Lonnie—said I shouldn't put it in the fridge, so I put it outside.”

“As opposed to leaving it on the counter in here?” Ellison went totally red. Good. Ryan cocked his head. “How much time have you spent in the country?”

“Some.” She met his eyes with a touch of defiance.

Skiing, perhaps?
“Don't put food outside. It brings in the animals. You're lucky that mob of birds isn't a bear.”

Her lips started to form the word
bear
then tightened. “I didn't know,” she said stiffly, giving Ryan the distinct impression that she did not like to be wrong.

“I really have to get to work,” he said.
Not that this hasn't been fun and all.
But he needed to get out of there and regroup before he said anything that jeopardized his job, or Walt's. As it was, he was too damned close to pointing out that she wasn't qualified to evaluate a ranch or anything in a rural setting.

“I understand.” Ellie walked to the window, close to where he stood—close enough that he caught the subtle scent of probably expensive perfume—to get a better look at the bird-infested pie. The biggest jay was now standing smack in the middle of it, orange pumpkin staining his underbelly. Ellison pursed her lips thoughtfully before looking up at him, her expression once again distant. Professional.

“Could we keep this between us?” she asked.

Afraid of owning up to your mistakes?
The words teetered on Ryan's tongue, but instead he said, “The pie?”

“Yes.”

“I'd hate to hurt Jessie's feelings, so yeah. I'll keep quiet.”

For now.
He'd make his final decision after he got a feel for how all of this was going to play out.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HIS
COULD
GET
UGLY
.
Ryan made a supreme effort to relax his tight jaw muscles as he headed out of the house and across the lawn. He failed.

I view employees as resources.

Ryan agreed that employees were resources, but the way she'd said it had made it sound as if employees were interchangeable cogs. Things rather than people.

Maybe he was misjudging her intent, but he was certain that Ellison Hunter didn't know jack about ranch employees and she was in no position to judge them. She didn't understand the blood, sweat and tears that went into making a ranch run and prosper. The sacrifices made. The simple joys that compensated for giving up so much. She wouldn't understand that the characteristics that might appear undesirable on an employee evaluation—stubbornness, overt independence, speaking one's mind without regard to tact—were characteristics that helped a person to succeed in this business.

And how was she going to take his rodeo absences? Somehow he didn't think Ms. Hunter was going to be all that amenable to him disappearing for several days every week during the months of July and August. Tough. She wasn't there to take over management—at least not yet—so until he was told differently, he was going to continue as he had been doing, hiring Lonnie to cover for him and juggling his schedule. Francisco could watch Walt.

Instead of going into his house, Ryan shifted course and went to his truck. Lonnie had fed the livestock that wasn't on pasture that morning, and the rest of the day's work could wait.

Less than five minutes later Jessie had him seated at the kitchen table with a piece of warm coffee cake, while Jeff ran his cars back and forth over the opposite end of the long handmade table. Jessie was nervous. It showed in her jerky movements, the set of her lips.

“So Francisco has to make a résumé?” she asked. Ranch jobs were not easy to come by and even a hint that they would have to start looking was enough to chase the color from her face. Francisco would probably have no trouble getting a job as a mechanic, but getting another place to live with room for their livestock on a single salary would be rough.

“No. She wants a list of what I do and I'm sure she'll want the same from Francisco. And Walt.”

Jessie gave her head a shake, her expression grim. “I don't like this.”

“Neither do I,” he muttered.

“More coffee?” She automatically reached for the pot, but Ryan stood before she got hold of it.

“No. I'm heading over to Walt's and I'll probably have more there.” The way the day was going, he'd be lucky if he got to work by noon.

“I'll have Francisco stop by your place after he gets home.”

“Sounds good.”

Jessie bit the edge of her lip. “It was just so much better when Walt owned the place outright.”

“The bank owned it, Jessie. And they were ready to take it.”

“Maybe that would have been better,” she muttered, bending to tie Bella's shoe. “Then the trauma would be over and we'd have other jobs.”

“Maybe.”

“By-eee,” Bella called to Ryan, waving her chubby fist at him.

“Bye,” he said with a half smile, taking the hint. He was supposed to leave.

* * *

W
ALT
'
S
PLACE
WAS
dark. Ryan hesitated before he knocked. If the old man was sleeping off his rough night, he hated to disturb him, but if Ellison was going to talk to him today, he had to do some prep work. Walt had met with the owners before, but in those cases he'd gone on his bender after the talk, not before.

“Coming,” Walt grumbled from the other side of the door at Ryan's second knock. The door swung open and the old man blinked at the sun behind Ryan's back. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” Ryan asked.

“I guess.” Walt stood back, allowing Ryan to walk past him before he shut the door, blocking the sun.

“Got something against light?” Ryan asked.

“Only when it burns a hole in my head.”

Ryan looked his mentor over. He'd changed his clothes, so the bar smell wasn't clinging to him. Good.

“The lady wants to meet with you today.”

“What are you? The go-between?” Walt asked, looking insulted.

“I'm the one who lives close. She came to see me and told me she wants to meet with all of us.”

“I've met with these guys before. No big deal.”

“Yeah, but this is a different kind of meeting.”

“How so?”

“This lady is here to evaluate the ranch. She wants to know about our jobs. What we do and when.” Ryan rubbed the side of his neck. “She's some kind of human-resources person.”

“Human resources?” Walt scowled and Ryan could see that this was the first he'd heard of the evaluation, so the only thing he'd kept to himself was the fact that one of the family was coming for a visit.

“Okay, so I tell her what I do. Anything else?” He gave Ryan a narrow-eyed look. “Shouldn't you be on the mountain looking for those four head by now?”

Ryan let out a breath. “I'm getting a late start. I had to go to town, you know. Pick someone up.”

“No. You didn't. I would have made it back on my own this morning.”

Walt never apologized for his benders. To him they were part of his stress-management program. He never drove drunk. More than once Francisco or Ryan had had to return to a bar to pick up the keys Walt had handed over to the bartender the night before.

Walt nodded. “I'll contact the lady and set up a meeting time. I can do it alone.”

“I'm not trying to be your keeper or anything, Walt. I just wanted to warn you. This evaluation thing kind of blindsided me and I didn't want the same thing to happen to you.”

“Thanks.”

“And...” Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. “You might want to write down a list of what you do around here.”

“Justify my existence.”

“Be prepared for the interview.”

“All right. I will. Now go to work before I fire you.”

Ryan walked to the door. Hopefully, Walt would have worked his way past his headache by the time he talked to the woman. Ryan would have given anything to be in on the meeting, run interference, but Walt was on his own. He was the manager, not Ryan. He just hoped Walt didn't do anything stupid, such as tell her he planned to die on the property.

* * *

E
XACTLY
THREE
WEEKS
had passed since quitting her job and Ellie had yet to acclimate to her new schedule. Having time on her hands made her feel antsy, almost guilty. Yes, she had a purpose here at the ranch, but it wasn't going to fill eight hours a day. The internet/satellite guy was supposed to show up tomorrow to work on the connection and hook up the television, and the fact that she was counting the hours until then bothered her. What kind of person was she that she
had
to have the internet and television?

The kind who'd been career driven and no longer had a career to fill her time. When was the last time she hadn't had a schedule so full that it was a challenge to simply make it through the day?

The day before she'd resigned.

Ryan had driven away shortly after she'd spoken to him—off to warn his boss, who had no cell phone, no doubt. Well, good. She wanted the staff to be prepared. It would save time...although right now saving time wasn't a concern. She needed something to fill time.

If she went now, she could familiarize herself with the layout of the ranch without wondering where Ryan was and if he was watching her. There was something about him that she found unsettling.

Unmitigated hotness, perhaps?

She hadn't expected him to be so attractive. Hadn't expected to have to fight herself to keep from watching him walk across the living room to the door earlier that morning and wondering just what exactly he looked like without the worn denim jeans and white cotton shirt.

What the hell was she doing thinking thoughts like that? Nick had been hot, too. Hot, charming, dishonest. The dishonesty had been by omission, but dishonesty all the same. Ellie pressed her hand to her abdomen. She would not judge all men by Nick, but she wasn't going to allow herself to be taken in by general hotness anytime soon, either...although judging by the way Ryan Madison had responded to her during their first meetings, being tempted by hotness wasn't going to be an issue. She was the enemy, and he'd made little effort to hide his displeasure about her being there.

She slipped on her shoes and headed for the door just as the red truck drove past the house toward the barn. So much for him not being around. Ellie paused at the door. She couldn't spend her days cooped up in the house. The people who worked here were employees. She wasn't exactly the boss, but she was a representative of the boss. No different than anyplace else where she'd consulted.

Except that these people lived here.

Well, so did she and she was going to get to know her surroundings—although she'd really prefer to explore when no one was around. She was surrounded by the unfamiliar, and Ellie didn't like it when she wasn't in total control.

* * *

R
YAN
SADDLED
S
KIPPER
and headed out to find the few head of cattle that had been reported on the mountain, wondering if he could possibly get back before Walt had his meeting with Ellison. Not that he could control any part of the meeting, but he wanted to know the outcome as soon as possible. It wasn't that he didn't trust Walt... No, it was that he didn't trust Walt.

He had just started across the pasture when he heard a sharp shriek. Skipper's head jerked up at the sound and Ryan reined the gelding around, various scenarios chasing through his brain. He pulled Skipper up at the gate, dismounted and then stood for a moment, wondering where the scream had come from.

The jays squawked from the trees near the house, probably wondering when the next pie was going to appear, but other than that the place was silent. Ryan looped the lead rope attached to Skipper's halter over the gatepost and then headed for the house, wondering what in hell the deal was.

He knocked on the door. A few seconds later it opened and Ellison gave him a politely inquiring look that made him wonder if he had or had not heard a scream. No—he'd heard it. It'd been a woman's voice and since Jessie was a half mile away, Ellison had to be the screamer.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She looked okay. Not a blond hair out of place.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Ryan waited a couple seconds and then, when it became clear that she was not going to expand on her answer, he said, “I thought I heard someone yell.”

Color rose in Ellison's face but her expression remained controlled as she said, “I hadn't realized I was that loud.”

“You were.”

“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “There was a snake on the steps. It startled me.”

“That was probably—”

“Hiss. I know. The boy who brought the pie warned me, but I forgot.”

Ryan regarded her for a moment, wondering how someone could belt out a shriek like that then appear so indifferent. Long practice? Ice water in the veins? He felt the urge to shake her up but, for the good of everyone involved, refrained. “Well, as long as everything is okay. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He touched his hat, a gesture he'd picked up from Walt many years ago.

“It's not okay,” she blurted as he turned to go. He turned back, surprised at the note of what had sounded a lot like desperation in her voice. She cleared her throat again, then said more calmly, “Something needs to be done about the snake.”

“He's harmless,” Ryan said. He didn't want her taking a shovel to poor old Hiss, who showed up every May and stayed until late July when he went off to who knew where.

“I don't think my aunt and uncle will welcome a snake this close to the house.”

“I'll see if I can get Lonnie to catch him and move him...although he may come back. Snakes do that.” And Hiss had. Every year.

“Then move him far away.”

“Will do,” Ryan said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work.” He had a lot to get done before he left for the Wolf Point rodeo and he had to carve out some time to practice tonight.

“Of course,” Ellison said. “Sorry to have delayed you.”

“Not a problem.”

* * *

E
LLIE
CLOSED
THE
door slowly and leaned back against it, then turned and watched through the leaded-glass panes as the cowboy returned to his horse. Her heart was still hammering from the snake encounter and it seemed to be hammering even harder after talking to Ryan Madison.

The snake had to have been six feet long, coiled up on the bottom stone step enjoying the sun. Ellie wasn't particularly squeamish about snakes, as long as they kept their distance, but she'd practically stepped on this one and if it hadn't seen her coming and slithered into action, she would have. But instead she'd seen the movement, recognized what it was and screamed.

Was there any way she could blame hormones? Ellie wasn't a screamer. She continued to watch as Ryan walked through the gate to the plain brown horse that waited on the other side, pulled the rope off the gatepost, coiled it and tied it to his saddle. Then he mounted, the movement quick and smooth and somehow very sexy, gathered his reins and urged the horse out across the field.

Yes. He was definitely a cowboy, as he'd stated during their interview.

One that came to the rescue of screaming women.

Ellie pressed her hands against her warm cheeks. Hormones or not, that wasn't going to happen again. The phone rang and Ellie followed the sound to the old-fashioned landline in the living room, answering it on the fifth ring.