The Divine Creek Ranch Collection Volume 3

by Heather Rainier

  With the sinking feeling that something was really wrong, she turned the key in the ignition once more.

  “Errrrt.”

  “Oh, no. Come on Gooonther,” she begged, drawing his name out like a porn star. “Give it up for me, baby.”

  “Er–er,” he replied negatively. She pulled the key out of the ignition and lifted herself from the seat, suddenly realizing what was wrong. In the dark, she hadn't noticed. This day was going to hell already.

  She gasped in dismay when she saw the damage done during the night. Her tires had been slashed. Going around the car, she could see all four of them were gutted.

  Now she wasn’t even at square one anymore. Less than zero. She felt like fate was determined to keep her in this town. She balled up her hands and stomped her feet angrily.

  “Motherfucker,” she growled to herself.

  Something went, “tsk,” beneath the engine door at the rear of the car.

  She patted the engine door and said, “Not you, baby. It’s not your fault.” She looked around, wondering if anyone was watching her have a chat with her car. It was dark outside and all the motel room lights were still off.

  Removing her phone from her purse, she dialed Mr. Cortez’s cell phone number. LuAnn’s biker boyfriend was in town, so she would be getting a ride to work on his Harley. Simone walked to work because she lived only a block away. The boss himself was her only solution.

  “What!”

  It didn’t surprise Lydia when the rude bastard answered his phone this way. She’d had to quickly adjust to his abrasive ways because the waitress position at the café he managed was the only job she could find.

  “Mr. Cortez, I have a problem. My car has been vandalized.” She didn’t mention that the car also wouldn’t start because he’d probably just yell at her for not having his cousin start the work yesterday when she’d had the chance. He’d probably throw in that it wouldn’t have gotten vandalized either.

  Grudgingly he said, “I’ll be over in a minute. Be outside. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Yes, sir.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone after he hung up on her and then slipped it into her purse. She locked up Gunther and then leaned against him to wait. The temptation to call her brothers was almost more than she could bear.

  Rubbing her hand over her arm in self-consoling gesture, she wondered why someone would slash her tires. Fort Stockton had not been the easiest place to live, but she didn’t think she’d made any enemies. Her only real friends were the two waitresses she worked with and the café’s cook, LaMont. She also wondered if the robbery of her motel room and vandalism of her car were somehow connected.

  After rubbing her hand over the silver bracelet, Lydia reluctantly removed it. Mr. Cortez did not like them wearing jewelry to work. On top of that, he’d been affronted when Chance Carlisle had dared to have her open the gift containing the bracelet while she waited on him at the café counter.

  Mr. Cortez stared at Chance whenever he came in. Lydia thought that was very peculiar but had reasoned that he was a crotchety old man and maybe his gout or his hemorrhoids were bothering him. In either case, the job at the Oasis Café was her only way out of Fort Stockton, so she’d better play by the rules.

  Unlike a lot of people she knew, she’d come to appreciate the beauty of the West Texas landscape. She’d done a little exploring on her few days off and had found some beautiful areas away from town and the interstate that almost made her stint in this part of West Texas bearable.

  Mr. Cortez pulled in behind Gunther and rudely honked his horn even though she was standing right there. She did her best not to react to his tacky display and pulled open the door on his beat-up Ford truck.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cortez.”

  He grunted and put the truck in gear. He’d told her repeatedly to call him Ruben, but she’d preferred keeping it a little more formal with her boss. She hated accepting a ride from him because it would lead to him being more familiar with her today, crossing the boundaries of employer-employee status yet again. She’d be willing to bet he’d make free with his hands, touching her oh, so casually until she told him to back off.

  “I need you to cook this morning. LaMont has to take his mother to the doctor.”

  Her gut clenched because she didn’t make as much money cooking as she did waitressing, even though she much preferred to cook. Because she was fast and gave friendly service, her tips regularly represented more than half of what she earned. She bit her lip and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “LaMont knew you would be disappointed and said he would be in as quickly as he could. It will just be for the early morning crowd.”

  LaMont had to take care of his aging, diabetic mother, and she didn’t hold that against him. She liked working with him, and he kept his kitchen spotless the way she would if she were the cook. But the tips she earned from waiting on the morning crowd represented a huge chunk of what she would’ve made for the day.

  “It’s fine, sir. Did the supply truck come in?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. They are unloading right now.”

  That alone made her job easier. She hated making excuses to customers when menu items weren’t available. Mr. Cortez did not keep up with supply orders very well, and more than once she’d gotten an earful from a customer only to turn around and get the same from him if she placed an order for something else they were suddenly out of.

  Chance had been witness to once such dressing down on her first day. She’d been able to tell he was concerned, and it had required determination to squelch her tears and the lump in her throat so she could pretend she was fine. She’d needed the job and so had pretended the mistake was hers. In reality, the blame for the shortage rested on Mr. Cortez’s shoulders.

  “So what happened? I heard your name on the police scanner last night.”

  Lydia bit her lip at the reminder. “My room was robbed.” She gritted her teeth and willed her quivering chin into submission. “They took everything I owned.”

  Mr. Cortez gasped in shock. “Everything?” She glanced at him, not used to hearing him project concern for anyone. He tended to show anger more than any other emotion.

  “Yes. Everything.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Start over. First I have to get my car fixed.”

  “You know, you can come and stay with me if you want to.” His tone made her want to shudder but she suppressed the urge.

  Eww!

  “I can even loan you money to get your car fixed. I’m sure we can come to a good arrangement.”

  A chill crawled up her spine. What in the hell did he mean by that? Double fucking eww!

  When he reached over for the first inappropriate touch of the day, she cringed as he patted her knee with his palm. He knew not to leave it there because she’d asked him before not to touch her, but he always claimed he forgot. He couldn’t help his “friendly nature,” he sometimes said, but lecherous nature was more like it.

  He removed his hand and gestured out the window. “Fort Stockton is not so terrible. You could decide to stay. My house is bigger than your motel room and you might like it, too.”

  She was sure that Fort Stockton was not terrible, but some of its citizens were downright awful. Lydia was one hundred percent certain that she would not like any arrangement they could come to. She was not so naïve that she didn’t know what he was hinting at.

  Without answering, Lydia looked out the smudged truck window and watched the houses and streetlights fly past. Of all the places and situations she’d ever been in, this was so not where she wanted to be. She hadn’t trained at the culinary institute in Austin for this. The one thing she could say was that her speed had been honed by overwork and the need to be efficient in an understaffed café.

  She knew the regulars could tell the difference when she was the one cooking, and even LaMont had complimented her abilities as a chef. He’d assured her she was doing the right thing by getting out of
Fort Stockton to somewhere she could be noticed for her true talent as a Cordon Bleu-trained chef.

  Fingering her handbag, she felt the outline of the silver bracelet safely zipped in the inner pocket. A pang of loneliness speared through her heart when Chance came to mind. Looking at her hands, she imagined his handsome, rugged face and startlingly bright blue eyes. She loved the lines that crinkled at the outer edges every time he smiled.

  Chance probably wasn’t more than his early to mid forties, but spending his days outside had given him a slightly older, weathered appearance that she found incredibly attractive. She recalled the callused hands that had held the last gift he’d brought her, wrapped in pretty paper. They were strong, work-roughened hands. Hands capable of taking control of a situation.

  Occasionally, his twin brother Clayton came on his cattle runs with him. When Clayton looked her in the eye and smiled, her heart did a little pitter-patter, but she attributed that to the fact that he was identical to his twin brother Chance. When they were there, he seemed to back off and let Chance do all the talking, but he was always friendly and just as generous with his tips as his brother was. The Carlisle men had done a lot to help build her “Get out of Fort Stockton” fund.

  The only thing she would regret about leaving this town was that she’d probably never see them again. She wished that she knew more about them and hoped their paths might cross again in the future. She didn’t even know where they lived, only that they owned a cattle ranch and that they were up and down Interstate 10 on a regular basis. The gifts Chance had given her were nice, but the real treat for her was just getting to see them and take care of them.

  The last time they’d come by and Chance had given her the silver bracelet and aromatherapy products, she’d given him a hug, not caring what Mr. Cortez thought. Thinking of them only made her miss them more. She guiltily wondered what Chance would think of her if he knew she harbored more than a small crush for both of them.

  Shaking her head, Lydia dispersed the warm threads of her daydreams just as they were taking hold. There was a whole, long work day ahead of her and no sense in getting caught up in fantasies.

  Mr. Cortez parked at the rear of the café, and she climbed out of the truck, tugging her apron around her waist. “Thank you, Mr. Cortez. I appreciate the ride.”

  “I can take you home, too,” he offered rather suggestively, leaving no doubt to which home he referred. It was creepy that he had behaved like a lothario in the truck, when all he did in the restaurant was act like a bad-tempered old man. It was going to be one hell of a day. She quickly cast aside the notion of calling her brothers. I’m a big girl. Not going to happen.

  Chapter Two

  For the third time in less than ten minutes, Chance Carlisle forced himself to let up on the accelerator. Eighty-five miles an hour was posted as the speed limit on Interstate 10. He was certain that the highway patrol officers would be unsympathetic of his need to test their generosity in the quest for romance.

  His heart palpitated as he looked at the clock on the dash and the mile marker that flew by. His Dodge Ram 3500 was eating up the miles, but the dually still wasn’t going fast enough to suit him.

  As eager as he was to see Lydia, he was afraid he’d embarrass himself. There was only one reason he was on this stretch of road today and no other business to which he could attribute his stop in her café. If she asked what he was doing out that way, all he could do was confess the need to see her and hope that news made her happy.

  He’d first met Lydia several months before when he was on a cattle haul with Richard Warner. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the beautiful brunette the entire time they were eating their meal and taking a rest before getting back on the Interstate. He’d taken every opportunity to visit the Oasis Café since that day.

  He remembered his last visit to the café and the rosy glow in her cheeks as she’d opened the gift he’d brought her. She had accepted it graciously and not grilled him as to why he was bringing such gifts on a cattle hauling run.

  He’d been pretty obvious in his interest with that gift, but any chance he might’ve had to chat with her about it had been abruptly cut short by her boss. Treating Lydia as though she’d been shirking her duties, the man had ordered her back to work even as she poured Chance’s cup of coffee. The old man was an asshole on his best day, but Chance thought jealousy was his true motivation.

  As Chance drove, his twin brother Clayton came to mind, as well as his refusal to come on this particular trip. Clayton had told him that his presence might hinder Chance’s odds of getting a clear reading of how she felt about him. Chance knew beyond a doubt that Clayton was half in love with her, too, but his doubting twin stayed behind anyway.

  Clayton was wide open about the possibility of sharing a woman, someone they could both love, take care of, and make a life with on the ranch. Clayton’s reasoning was that it would be hard enough negotiating that kind of relationship with a woman who lived in their area. The odds were against them finding a woman suited to them both through a long-distance relationship, and the risk to Chance’s already-committed heart was just too great.

  Clayton had told him if he felt that strongly about her, he should try by himself. Maybe in the long run she might find that she could love Clayton, too, but it would be better to give Chance his shot alone first.

  The metal cavalry sculpture, “Marching to Fort Stockton,” located just east of Fort Stockton, loomed up ahead, south of the Interstate, signaling that he was almost there. He smiled to himself and relaxed for the first time that afternoon as the sign for the Oasis Café came into view after the slight bend in the otherwise desolate stretch of highway.

  He pulled into the large travel stop off the highway and filled up his gas tank as the sun descended toward the horizon. He was trying to time his arrival so he could catch her once the dinner rush was past.

  As he was gassing up the big dually, Chance noticed there were lots of vehicles coming and going in the travel stop. After he’d spent some expensive, quality time with the fuel pump and his debit card, he went into the convenience store and bought what he would need for an overnight stay in a local hotel. He’d been so ready to get on the road, he’d hung his change of clothes in the back of the truck and forgotten to take the bag containing his toiletries. It was still sitting on his bed at home.

  At least he’d remembered the gifts, he thought with a grin. Summer assured him the turquoise jewelry would send a clear, hopeful message, and he was praying that the book went over just as well.

  He’d been a bit embarrassed to go back to Discretion and pick up another copy when he and Clayton had realized they’d put creases in the spine of the one she’d sold him. Thankfully, Rachel hadn’t batted an eyelash when he’d asked to purchase another copy of The Rancher’s Lady. Both gifts were tucked away in their wrappings inside the console, safely out of sight.

  He checked his watch when he returned to the truck and decided it was time to head over to the café. Once there, he waited in the lobby with the rest of the crowd. The café was still busy, full to the rafters with diners. Chance could see over the lobby enclosure and caught a glimpse of her moving from table to table. Just the sight of her silky brunette hair was enough to make his heartbeat speed up and his cock take notice. She spoke to a customer and nodded then flitted away. Briefly, she moved across the room with the coffeepot and answered a customer’s inquiry. Even knowing her for as short a period of time as he did, Chance noticed the weariness in her stride.

  “Lydia!”

  Chance gritted his teeth at the sound of her boss yelling her name. She excused herself with a weak smile and rushed to the kitchen, where Chance could now hear her boss yelling. She returned a moment later with a tray full of steaming plates, her cheeks in flames. It was all he could do to sit there. The dominant urge in him was to provide a solution for her problem, which was obvious. There were three waitresses, who all looked dead on their feet, waiting on the entire café, whic
h was too few for a crowd this size.

  After about twenty minutes, the crowd of people in the lobby gradually dwindled down to a handful. He’d heard her name hollered so many times that he would’ve understood if she wanted to change it after tonight.

  A seat at the counter finally opened up, and one of the other waitresses led him to it. The name on her tag read “LuAnn,” and he thanked her by name.

  LuAnn winked at him and, with a West Texas twang in her voice, said, “I’ll let Lydia know you’re here, sir.” She started to walk away but then backed up and spoke softly to him. “Just so you know, Lydia’s been here since five thirty this morning. She worked through her lunch break to make up the tips she lost this morning because she had to cook. She hasn’t eaten supper so she’s starving, and she got robbed last night.” At his surprised reaction she nodded and continued, “And sir, I have a feeling the evening is about to get even worse, so your timing is the answer to prayer.”

  That was a lot to take in at once, but the waitress had tables to wait on, so she smiled at him and went back to work.

  “Lydia! LuAnn!”

  Chance wondered if that son of a bitch had any idea how disruptive that was but doubted that the man cared. Lydia rushed by Chance, murmuring under her breath, “Coming, mein führer.” Chance covered a chuckle, but she glanced up in surprise as she passed him. “Oh!” Her tired but beautiful face broke into a smile that nearly blinded him. A soft blush tinged her cheeks as she said, “Hi. How have you been?” She seemed to visibly relax for the first time since he’d walked in the door.

  He smiled back at her, thinking he must have a big, sappy grin plastered all over his face, and replied, “I’m better now.”

  She glanced at the kitchen window and then said to him, “Give me one second to deliver these and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Chance nodded and watched as she loaded a giant tray with dishes and slipped past him at the end of the counter, winking at him as she flitted by.

  “Simone!” Apparently none of the waitresses were immune to this guy’s brand of employee-employer relations.