Wrangling the Rancher

by Jeannie Watt

“I’m not moving into the bunkhouse,” he said.

  “You’re renting the house from month to month. After this month is over, we’re switching.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “No.”

  “My grandfather made it clear—”

  “I don’t think he did. Not to you anyway. He told me that his granddaughter would be in the bunkhouse until she got a job. Those exact words. Granddaughter. Bunkhouse. Until she got a job. Not until the month is over.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Call him.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Add a little more stress to his life instead of just doing the right thing.”

  Her blue eyes grew fiery. Oh, yeah. Not too many people had stood up to the princess. And after years of smiling and taking guest abuse, Cole had to admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction at not taking it anymore.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “I agree. The bunkhouse is totally habitable. You’ll be gone before long and I’ll still be here.”

  Her chest rose and fell, and Cole could see that a mighty battle was waging.

  He hooked a thumb in his belt loop. “I’m not leaving the house.”

  “Fine.” She almost spat the word out. “For now.” She jerked open the back door of the SUV and hauled out a suitcase, her eyes narrowing as she turned back to him. “You may not be correct when you say that you’ll be here for longer than me.”

  As if this woman was going to stay on this farm a moment longer than she had to. But even though he believed that her threat was as empty as the silos on Karl’s farm, it annoyed him. Again, he was no longer in a position where he had to put up with bullshit just because.

  “You’re threatening me?” he asked in a low voice. “Because I am within my rights to kick you off this property.”

  She stepped up to him and gave him a maddeningly innocent look. “And add stress to Karl’s life? Are you sure you want to do that?”

  It sucked to have his own words thrown back at him.

  He leaned toward her so that they were essentially chest to chest, or chest to upper abdomen since she was about six inches shorter than him. But she spoke first. “I am not threatening you. I am grateful that you are letting me stay.” Even though it was her right. She didn’t say it, but it was written all over her face.

  “Grateful in your own way.”

  “However,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken, “be clear on this...if things don’t go smoothly, then we will get my grandfather involved, and I promise you I will come out on top.”

  He almost laughed. She didn’t realize that she was currently on the receiving end of some tough love. Fine. He’d allow her the fantasy.

  “All I ask is mutual respect,” Cole said. He was done being treated like the help.

  “Agreed.” She held out a hand. Her nails were perfectly manicured. Apparently being out of work for two months didn’t affect the beauty budget.

  Cole took her hand and shook. “Agreed.”

  * * *

  TAYLOR WATCHED COLE Bryan head toward the machine shed through narrowed eyes. He was more of an adversary than she’d anticipated. And he had a ridiculously nice ass. All in all, a great physical package coupled with a maddeningly stubborn personality. Well, she wasn’t done yet, but she recognized when it was time to stop and regroup. Plot her strategy.

  He hadn’t offered to help her move her stuff into the bunkhouse, which was just as well. She needed time. Getting robbed was bad enough, but finding out that she was going to live in what was basically a primitive motel room while she conducted her job search...well, on the bright side, the circumstances would motivate her to nail something down as soon as possible.

  On that positive note, she walked over to the bunkhouse and opened the door. Stale air enveloped her as she stepped inside, and she instantly crossed to the nearest window and attempted to heave it open. No luck. She went to the next. Again, nothing. Finally, the last window screeched open a crack. It would have to do.

  Taylor turned to survey her new surroundings, fighting the sinking feeling in her gut. The bunkhouse was just as she remembered it from her childhood visits, except that it seemed smaller. The single room was long and narrow, with beat-up vinyl flooring and dingy tan paint on the walls. In the corner was a bank of cupboards and a cast-iron sink that was worth a small fortune on the renovation market. She crossed the room to run a finger over the cast iron. She had a primo sink in a very sad environment. The only furniture consisted of two old bed frames, neither with mattresses, a chrome-and-enamel kitchen set that had seen better days—but would also bring decent money if Karl chose to sell it—and a single ratty, overstuffed chair that she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Who knew how many rodents were familiar with the piece?

  Temporary environment. Remember that.

  At the other end of the room was a small bathroom with a shower and an old toilet, plus a sink with a cheap replacement single-handle faucet that seemed out of place on the antique basin. The flooring was clean but disintegrating.

  Taylor sighed as she stood in the doorway and surveyed the shower with the sorry curtain hanging limply from the cockeyed rod. She was so very much a soak-in-the-tub person.

  Temporary.

  Sucking in a fortifying breath, Taylor turned and headed out to the trailer to start schlepping boxes inside. It appeared she’d have to buy a mattress for the old bed frame. Or better yet...

  She pulled the cell out of her pocket and dialed her grandfather’s number.

  “You made it okay?”

  “I did. I hit a small bump at the motel I stayed at last night, but I’ll fill you in on that later.” Because Karl was protective and, despite what Cole might think of her, she didn’t want to upset him unnecessarily. “I’m calling to ask if there’s an extra mattress in your house that I could borrow while I’m in the bunkhouse.”

  “There’s a bed in the spare room with a decent mattress, but you should clear it with Cole.”

  “I will. But if he has no issues, then I can tell him you have no issues either, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll settle in today and then start the job search tomorrow.” She smiled a little. “I’ll keep you posted this time. Sorry about before.”

  “Not a problem. Don’t wear yourself out moving in.”

  “No worries. Thanks, Grandpa. Talk to you soon.”

  Her smile faded as she pocketed the phone. Twenty-four hours ago she’d said goodbye to her real life, and now she needed to adapt to her new, temporary life. She’d make the best of it, come hell, high water or a good-looking, stubborn farm-mate.

  She turned toward the door, going over her schedule in her head. She’d unload the trailer, take inventory and try to figure out what was missing, make a shopping list, return the rental trailer to the local dealer, nicely ask farm guy to help her with the mattress—

  The scream ripped out of her throat as a huge rodent appeared out of nowhere, almost running over her feet as it scurried toward the bathroom.

  She was barely aware she was moving, but somehow she ended up outside where there were likely many more of the killer rodents. Wasting no time and barely allowing her feet to touch the ground, she made a dash for the SUV and leaped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her.

  Her heart was hitting her ribs so hard that she couldn’t catch her breath, and that was when she felt dampness on her cheeks. What had she done? What horrible thing had she done to deserve losing her apartment, being robbed and getting attacked by a rodent in less than one day’s time?

  A tap on the window made her jump a mile. Farm guy was there, peering into her window with a scowl on his handsome face. She took a chance and turned on the ignition so that she could roll down the window a crac
k.

  “What?” The single word irritated her beyond belief, even as she told herself that this wasn’t his fault.

  “There’s a rat in the bunkhouse.”

  “Really?”

  The words that jumped to her lips at his disbelieving tone were not pretty, but Taylor managed to swallow them. “It ran in from outside.”

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. He shook his head and stalked away toward the bunkhouse. Taylor rolled the window back up, leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes. Her lashes were wet as they hit her cheeks.

  Damn.

  Her new temporary life sucked.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  COLE WAS NOT a fan of rodents. Mice destroyed equipment, gnawed on saddles, and made their way into pantries and car engines. Pack rats did even more damage to vehicles, and heaven help you if you cornered one. Ground squirrels destroyed fields, gophers destroyed gardens. If there’d been a rodent in Taylor’s bathroom, things wouldn’t have ended well for Mr. Rat, but Taylor didn’t have a rodent in her house. She had a young cottontail rabbit cowering behind the toilet, staring up at Cole with wide brown eyes. Cole’s lips curled a little as he regarded the young bunny.

  How in the hell was Karl, the most down-to-earth guy on the planet, related to a woman who mistook a rabbit for a rat? And how was he supposed to share his farm with her? Because legally it was his farm until the lease expired, which wasn’t for another three years. Karl had the option of living there, but the land and the outbuildings were his.

  Was the bunkhouse one of the outbuildings? That hadn’t been spelled out in the agreement, but he assumed that since it could be used for grain or tool storage, yeah, it was.

  Cole pulled his gloves out of his back pocket and slipped them on before slowly approaching the frightened baby, just in case Junior decided to bite out of fear.

  “How’d you get in here, buddy?”

  The petrified bunny rolled into a ball as he took hold of its nape and scooped it up, cradling its furry bottom in one hand. Holding his captive, he toed the door open and then kicked it shut again, in case the little guy had brothers and sisters lurking nearby, then crossed over to Taylor’s car. He motioned with his head for her to roll down the window, and she did—about two inches. He held up the baby, and Taylor gave him a deeply skeptical look.

  “This is your rat.”

  She gave her head an adamant shake. “No.”

  He lifted a skeptical eyebrow as he raised the bunny a little higher in front of her window. “You’re saying that there’s a rat and a rabbit in the bunkhouse?”

  “The rat could have gotten in the same way the bunny got in.”

  She had a point, but since the bunkhouse didn’t smell of rat, he didn’t think that was the case. “Have you ever gotten a whiff of eau de pack rat?”

  Her mouth flattened. Judging from her silence, it appeared that Taylor did not like to be wrong or admit to being wrong. Well, in this case she was. “Trust me. You don’t have a rat.”

  Color had crept up her neck and across her fair cheeks. Her mouth worked for a moment, then she reached for the door handle and got out of the car.

  “I swear it looked like a rat when it raced in front of me.”

  “The dreaded hopping rat?”

  She gave a brave attempt at a smirk, but her cheeks were still pink. “He wasn’t hopping. He was running.” She tilted her head to get a better angle, apparently falling victim to the rabbit’s soul-melting brown eyes. “What will you do with him?”

  “Let him go.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his in an almost accusatory way. “What if he’s an orphan?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s old enough to get his own food. He’ll probably be raiding the garden within the hour.”

  “So he’ll be okay?” She cautiously reached out to stroke the bunny’s head with two fingers, and he couldn’t help but notice again that the nails on those fingers were perfectly polished. Maybe if Karl had had more of a down-to-earth, get-her-hands-dirty kind of granddaughter, Cole would have been on board with this whole plan of her living in the bunkhouse and sharing his space. But this woman... The muscles in his jaw tightened as her fingers brushed against his as she stroked the rabbit again, then she looked up at him with a faint frown. “I asked if he would be okay.”

  “As okay as any wild creature will be.” Her hand stilled, and he stifled a sigh. “Nature’s a bitch, Taylor. There aren’t any guarantees.”

  He could see that she didn’t like his answer, but he wasn’t going to tiptoe around facts.

  “I wonder how he got into the bunkhouse.”

  “I have an idea.” Cole crossed the drive to the thick juniper hedge and gently set the rabbit on the ground. The little guy sat stock-still for a few seconds, then gave a mighty hop and plunged into the shrubbery. Cole looked up to see Taylor studying him. “Let’s go check out your place.”

  It was obvious from the way her mouth tightened that she didn’t think of the run-down bunkhouse as her place, but that was tough. It was hers for as long as she was there.

  He led the way down the dirt path to the bunkhouse. Before Karl’s grandfather had broken up the original sprawling ranch into three smaller hay operations and sold them, the ranch’s workers had lived in this building. When Karl returned from the service fifty years ago, he’d been fortunate enough to buy the parcel with the original houses and barns.

  Taylor followed him into the dingy interior, and Cole allowed that she might have a legitimate gripe about her living quarters, if it wasn’t for the fact she was getting them for free. Taylor headed toward the bathroom, which must have been where she’d encountered the bunny, but Cole crossed to the opposite side of the common area and pulled open the cupboard under the old iron sink. Sure enough, the floorboards there were rotted and broken from decades of water damage, and there was a hole large enough for a rabbit to squeeze through.

  He looked over his shoulder at Taylor. “You’re lucky this place isn’t overrun with mice.” Her expression was so comical that he had to clear his throat to keep from laughing. “Karl has some gnarly cats. They do a decent job of keeping the place clear of mice.”

  She wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I have a cat, too. I didn’t want to bring him until I was sure of where I’d be living.”

  Cole looked over his shoulder at her. “I guess you know now.”

  The look she gave him was more of a “We’ll see...” than a “Yes, I do.” She set her keys on the counter and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Let me see the problem.”

  Cole gestured at the dark space in front of him. Was it just him, or did everything that came out of her mouth sound like a freaking order?

  She crouched down beside him and peered under the sink, frowning as she took in the damage. Then she sat back on her heels. “Will you have time to fix this soon?”

  “No.” He pushed himself to his feet without looking at her. “You’ll have to hire someone.”

  “This doesn’t appear to be a big job,” she murmured in a reasonable voice.

  “Then do it yourself.”

  That was when he had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of annoyance cross her face. “I don’t have tools.”

  “And I don’t have the time.” He might have had the time if she’d asked, but to simply assume that he would take care of things for her...wasn’t going to happen. “Karl has lots of tools in the shed next to the barn.”

  “What’s the problem here?”

  “The problem is that I have the lease on this place and you’re not going to come in here and direct my life.”

  “Direct your life?”

  “I am not at your beck and call, sweetheart. If you have a problem, then you need to handle it. Becau
se you were not part of my lease agreement.”

  “I’m out of work, I’ve just been robbed and—”

  “Assaulted by a bunny.”

  Color flooded her cheeks again. “That’s not funny.”

  “Not meant to be.” Much. He took a step closer, halfway wishing that her perfume didn’t smell so damned good. It was a light, teasing scent that irritated him because it made his thoughts drift in directions he’d rather not have them drift. He yanked his thoughts back into line. “Maybe if you’d asked instead of assuming...”

  Her chin rose a fraction of an inch. “I don’t think it would have made a difference if I’d asked or told. You’ve decided you’re not going to do one thing to make life easy for me while I’m here.”

  “I’m allowing you to stay.”

  “So as not to upset Karl.”

  “The result is the same. You’re here.”

  “Are you always this unpleasant?”

  The laugh escaped before he could stop it. “No. Prior to the first of this year, I was a professional pleasant person.” He smiled in a way that felt satisfyingly dark. “But now I’m a farmer and I no longer have to suffer fools gladly.”

  “Are you calling me a fool?” She spoke in a slow, measured tone.

  “I’m calling you entitled.”

  Her eyes flashed, but her expression barely shifted. She, too, was skilled at hiding her true feelings. He wondered briefly what it would take, short of a marauding rabbit, to make her lose her cool—which was not the direction his thoughts should be taking. He was on the farm to enjoy some solitude. Live on his terms, not on the whims of others. And he certainly wasn’t there to cause his unwanted tenant to lose it.

  “I have things to do,” she said coolly.

  “Me, too.” He headed to the door, stopping at the threshold. “The tools are in the building—”

  “I know where the tools are,” she snapped.

  “Just making sure.” With that he stepped outside, leaving Ms. Taylor Evans to soak up the ambiance of her new home.

  * * *

  TWO HOURS LATER Taylor was still stewing about her encounter with Cole. Entitled? No. It’d made sense for him to do the repairs. Yes, she could have asked rather than assumed, but in her world, the landlord took care of things like holes in the floor.