Her Cowboy Boss

by Patricia Johns

  “Do your parents live around here?” Avery asked.

  He pulled himself back to the present. “No, they’re in Florida.”

  “Hmm.” She smiled. “That’s nice.”

  His parents loved Skype—always calling at inopportune times, crowding in front of their tablet so they could both beam at him from their motor home. They were so proud of that thing—they still gave him virtual tours. You wouldn’t believe how spacious it is, Hank! Look at the depth of these cupboards... Can you see it? Hold on, I’ll put on a light... Can you see it now?

  Hank was approaching the barracks now—a long, low building on the crest of a hill, overlooking the pasture and a winding creek that watered it.

  “Okay,” he said pulling himself away from personal topics. “I guess I should tell you the job requirements. First of all, Mr. Harmon has a rule against employees becoming romantically involved. There is no wiggle room there. If you’re caught, you’ll be fired. No second chances.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”

  “I really can’t stress it enough.” He eyed her, waiting for some sort of response, but she just met his gaze with mild curiosity. That was the biggest rule out of the way. “You’ll be providing breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks for thirty-five employees. Breakfast is at 6:00 a.m. sharp, lunches are packed and supper is at five. You can’t be late—our scheduling relies on prompt meals.”

  She didn’t say anything, but when he glanced over, she was chewing the side of her cheek. Nerves? So the cooking—that’s where he got a reaction from her?

  “You think you can handle that?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She shot him a smile that was just an eyelash shy of being convincing.

  “We’re looking at high-protein meals, and don’t skimp on the carbs. The guys can eat a lot—they burn it off out there, so they have to be able to fill up. Obviously, we need balanced meals, but you’ve got to be able to cook according to a budget...”

  As he talked, he could feel tension emanating from her through the cab, and when he pulled to a stop in front of the barracks, he eyed her curiously.

  “You want to see your room first, or the kitchen?” he asked.

  “Uh...” She looked out the window. “The kitchen, I suppose.”

  They got out of the truck and he led the way toward the canteen. Their last cook had given notice, but Louis hadn’t been able to fill the position in time to fill the gap. This was the first day without a regular cook on premises, and the stock of muffins and sandwiches had been worked through pretty fast. He pushed open the door, leading the way past the tables and toward the kitchen in the back.

  When they emerged into the quiet, cool room, the look on Avery’s face was pure panic.

  “Exactly how much experience do you have?” Hank asked skeptically.

  She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Zero.”

  What? He stared at her, aghast. She had absolutely no experience, and she’d applied for this job? What had she been thinking? And why had Louis hired her so quickly? He supposed they didn’t have many options—they needed someone, and one of the ranch hands would be just as bad as an inexperienced stranger. At least the ranch hand would be able to do his job out in the field if they had this woman in the kitchen.

  “Let me get this straight...” he said slowly.

  “Should I leave?” she interrupted, turning to look him in the face for the first time. Her green eyes glittered, and she crossed her arms across her chest—protective or defiant, he wasn’t sure which.

  “Can you at least cook?” he asked. That would be something. Cooking in large batches could be learned...couldn’t it? If she could at least make some batches of oatmeal, muffins, fry up some burgers...

  Avery visibly winced.

  “Are you saying you can’t cook at all?” he demanded.

  “I’m capable of cooking,” she retorted. “I’m twenty-four and I’ve fed myself for some time now.” She sighed. “I’ve just never been...good at it.”

  He closed his eyes and suppressed a moan.

  “I’ll go.” She moved toward the door. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  It wasn’t how pretty she was, or those glittering green eyes. It certainly wasn’t the smattering of freckles that drew his gaze as she turned away...it was the knowledge that without her here, a valuable ranch hand would be taken away from his work and set to manning the kitchen until they could find someone else, and after three weeks of advertising, she was the only one to show up.

  “Wait,” he said gruffly. “You’re already hired. Let’s give you a try.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “Because you don’t need to do this. If someone else is a better fit—”

  “There isn’t anyone else,” he said. “If you’re willing to learn, I guess I’ll teach you what I know, and we’ll get these guys fed.”

  She pulled out her cell phone. “YouTube tutorials might help.”

  So that was where they were at. This was going to be a long day, he could tell, but a suspicion nagged at the back of his mind. He might need to keep her on for now, but he also meant to keep an eye on her. After Hank’s divorce, the Harmon family had been really good to him, and he felt like he owed Louis more than just to follow his job requirements. And Avery gave off the vibe, back in the house, of a woman with an ulterior motive.

  Now he discovered that she’d applied for a position she had zero experience for, and she was offering to walk away far too quickly for someone who needed the job despite her inexperience. His hackles were up. He didn’t know the real reason Avery had shown up, but he’d figure it out. He didn’t like secrets; he was the kind of man who wanted things transparent, out in the open. Secrets always hurt someone, he’d found. Hank knew firsthand what kind man Louis Harmon was. As ranch manager, it was his job to know what was going on, and he took that job very seriously.

  “Alright,” Hank said. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying, then I should probably start showing you what I can in the kitchen. We need to whip up dinner for the hands. That is, if you’re ready to start early—”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ll be happy to.”

  That was a relief, because right now, he didn’t have much choice.

  Chapter Two

  Hank led the way to Avery’s room, located at the far end of the bunkhouse. The building was empty, their footsteps echoing, and Avery could only assume that was because the other employees were working at this hour. The hallways smelled male—like socks and stale cigarettes.

  Avery stood back as Hank unlocked a door at the end of the hallway and swung it open. He held out the key, and when she took it, her fingers brushed over his calloused fingertips. There wasn’t much room in the doorway, and as she moved past him, she could feel his body heat.

  “This is where you’ll sleep,” he said. “You have your own bathroom through there.”

  Avery glanced around. There was a bed topped with a patchwork quilt, an outdated dresser, a wobbly wardrobe and a small but private bathroom with a tub large enough to actually take a bath. Thanks to a cracked-open window, her room smelled fresh and clean. When she peeked outside, she had a magnificent view of pasture and the main barn. That was something. And if she counted the blessing that she wouldn’t have to share facilities like the ranch hands did, she couldn’t complain. Even settling in wouldn’t be difficult. Her suitcase was in the trunk of her car, so that would be easy enough. But as she stood in the center of the room, a giggle bubbled up inside her.

  If her mother were still living, she’d find this hilarious, too. Well, maybe not the fact that Avery was in Hope, looking for details about her mother’s past... Winona wouldn’t have liked that at all. But the outrageousness of being hired as a ranch cook—that would have tickled her funny bone. Winona used to tell her, Men expect a
pretty girl to be able to cook. And you’re pretty, sweetheart. So you’d better learn how to cook, or learn how to let ’em down easy. Avery hadn’t learned.

  Winona Southerly was a strong woman with her own idea of how things should be. She raised Avery to go to church every week, rain or shine. Winona’s Wilderness, the flower shop her mother opened when Avery was in the second grade, had been closed Sunday mornings, opening at 2:00 p.m. No exceptions. She’d been strict that way. When Avery complained that she didn’t want to go to Sunday school, her mother would retort, So the store is closed for nothing then? I’m losing business as we speak. We’re going to church. You could use a few positive influences, my girl. And heaven help them if they were late. But she’d had a sense of humor, too. Every time she lost something—a pair of scissors, an umbrella—she declared it had been raptured and the Lord needed it more than I did, I suppose. Church people never knew exactly how seriously to take her on that—whether she needed a theological tune-up, or if they should just laugh along. She liked pushing the envelope, keeping people guessing. Those were the memories that made Avery’s heart ache with loneliness. Life wasn’t going to be the same without Mom.

  “Will it do?” Hank asked behind her.

  Avery turned and nodded. “It’ll be just fine.”

  He nodded, then his direct blue gaze met hers and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. This ranch manager was just so...male. She kept noticing things like the stubble on his jawline, or the latent strength in those large hands of his. She couldn’t do anything about it, though. She was here for a reason, and this cowboy didn’t factor into that.

  “So what is Mr. Harmon like?” she asked.

  Hank shrugged. “A decent guy. He doesn’t cut corners. He pays on time.”

  That wasn’t exactly what she was looking for, but then, she was only supposed to be an employee.

  “Does he have a family?” she asked. “Here at the ranch, I mean.”

  “He’s a widower, but he has two kids, Olivia and Owen. They’re twins. You’ll see them around.”

  He had kids... That meant she had siblings. The thought was surprising and pleasing. She’d wanted a brother or sister growing up, but that hadn’t happened. So siblings—someone else in the world she shared genes with—she liked that. And twins ran in the family... That might be good to know for future reference.

  “How old are they?” she asked.

  “They’re in...” Hank paused. “I want to say tenth grade. Maybe eleventh? High school students, though.”

  She had a brother and a sister...and a father. While the thought of having more family was pleasing, it was also more intimidating. Those kids might not find her existence quite as comforting as she found theirs, especially at their age. They’d be territorial, and understandably.

  “What happened to their mom?” she asked.

  “She passed away a couple of years ago,” he said. “Riding accident. Some workers hadn’t locked a gate. The wind pushed it open, the horse spooked and she fell. Quick as that.”

  “That’s too bad.” She wondered what Louis’s wife had been like. Perhaps a little bit like her mother in some way? She’d come to the conclusion that Louis’s relationship with her mother hadn’t been long or meaningful, or Louis would have shown some sort of reaction at her last name, if nothing else. She’d been sure her last name would spark some memories about her mother, but nothing? Had Winona been that forgettable for him?

  Hank led the way back out of the room. Avery locked the door behind them and followed him down the long hall and out into the sunlight. She paused, looking around. The main house was visible on the crest of a hill a couple of miles off, and the horses shone bronze as they grazed in the field next to it. From their vantage point, slightly higher than the rest of the ranch, she could make out a wider view of the patchwork effect of adjacent fields. Early afternoon sunlight splashed over the distant barn that was visible from her bedroom window, and a tractor towing a trailer filled with hay crept along a gravel road, clouds of dust billowing up behind it. The canteen, which hunched next to the bunkhouse, was a low wooden building with a hitching post out front.

  Hank didn’t seem like he’d say much else, and she wondered if she’d overdone it. But her time here was limited, and if she were going to take this job in order to find out a little more about her father, then she’d have to ask questions.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asked, changing tack.

  “Twelve years,” he replied, then turned toward her just before they reached the door to the canteen. “Long enough to know the boss really well. He’s been good to me, and I’m not about to gossip about his personal business. I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you.”

  Heat suffused Avery’s cheeks. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “If you want to talk, let’s talk about you,” Hank said, pulling open the door and letting her go inside first. The canteen was cool and dark, and it took a moment for Avery’s eyes to adjust.

  “This way.” Hank moved past her. She stood there for a moment, glad for the darkness that could hide the color she knew was in her face. She didn’t like being chastised. Maybe this cowboy thought of her as some youngster compared to him, but she was far from naive, and far from being meek. Avery moved forward and her shin connected with something solid she couldn’t make out in the dim light.

  “Ouch!” She closed her eyes in a grimace, and then opened them to find she could see a little better now. It had been a bench in her way, and Hank now stood in front of her. He was a big man, but his presence was even larger than his physical size. He always seemed to be inspecting her when he looked at her like that, and she found it irritating.

  “You okay?” His voice was rough but gentle, and in the dim light his closeness made her feel slightly flustered. He obviously didn’t trust her, but he wasn’t being a complete jerk, either.

  “Fine,” she said. “I can see better now.”

  “That’s good.” He walked away from her again, and she followed in his wake, moving around tables and chairs toward the swinging kitchen door ahead. He flicked the switch as they went inside, and the room buzzed with florescent light.

  “So how long are you here for?” Hank asked. He opened a drawer and tossed her a white apron.

  “It won’t be long-term. I just needed a job while passing through,” she said cautiously. Obviously, they’d need to plan for the future around here, and she felt a pang of guilt. “Look, truthfully, I need to be back in Salina by June twenty-fourth. So I’ll be here for a couple of weeks. You’ll definitely want to keep looking for a cook.”

  “Ah.” He paused, eyed her for a moment. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  She shrugged, but felt like a fraud—could he sense that?

  “You have someone waiting for you back in Salina?” he asked.

  She eyed the kitchen appliances—two stoves, a large industrial fridge, a massive mixer on one counter.

  “Someone?” She smiled wryly. “No. But I’m reopening my mom’s flower shop when I get back. I was pretty much raised in that shop. I went there every day after school and did my homework at the front counter.”

  That store was more of a home than their little apartment had been, and when her mother died, it was the only stability she had left.

  “So you’re a florist,” he said, shooting her an odd look.

  “My mom was a florist,” Avery corrected him. “I worked at the bank, but when mom passed away and her life insurance came through, I quit so I could concentrate on her business.”

  In college, she’d changed her major so many times that when she finally did graduate, it was with a generic arts degree. She’d never quite known what she wanted do with herself, what she wanted to be, and she realized after her mother had passed away that she’d relied on Winona for her identity. She was her mother’s daughter
—but now?

  “Don’t like counting other people’s money?” he asked with a small smile.

  “It was just a job.” She shrugged. “But my mom’s store is home in a lot of ways, and having it just empty out and shut down...” She sighed. “It was too heartbreaking.”

  “So what are you doing here?” he pressed.

  She eyed him for a moment. She wondered if he were a distrustful man in general, or if he was just concerned about the stability of his staff. Possibly a bit of both, but she found herself mildly intrigued by him, too. He was older than she was—old enough that she’d call him sir if she trampled his foot in the street—but she was also very aware of him, of his movement, of the way he looked at her. She ran her hand over a countertop.

  “I’m trying to learn about my mom,” she said. “She didn’t say much about her childhood, and now that she’s gone, I want to figure out that side of her that she kept hidden.”

  “Would she want you to?”

  His question was unexpected, and she felt a twang of annoyance. What did he know about her relationship with her mother, or what Winona would have wanted?

  “Probably not,” she admitted, tears misting her eyes. “But she’s gone, so...”

  Dying had been the worst thing her mother had ever done, because Avery still needed her. She might be a grown woman, but she wasn’t finished being mothered yet. Her mom had never wanted her to meet her dad, or to even know his name, but since she’d gone and heartlessly died, Avery would have to make these choices on her own. Wherever Winona was—raptured with the scissors?—Avery hoped her mother could forgive her, because she had come to town in search of the very answers Winona had kept hidden all these years. And perhaps while she learned who her mother used to be, she could figure out who she was without her mother in her life.

  Hank opened the fridge and pulled out three large, cellophane-wrapped packages of cubed steak and tossed them onto the stainless steel center table with a bang.