Boss Daddy

by Shanna Handel

  Her face was priceless. I laughed until my sides hurt. “See... I’m loosening up. I finally said the ‘p’ word.”

  She laughed along beside me. As we sat together, my arm around my wounded sister, my mind changed. Hayes and I were so happy together. What if I hadn’t been so fearful of dating him? Could we have been happy together, sooner? And why shouldn’t my sister go for Colton? She was busting her ass on the ranch and doing a fantastic job. Until this moment, she had shown no sign of weakness in struggling with these emotions at work.

  And I had seen the way Colton looked at Josie. It was the same way Hayes looked at me. Sometime the big sister boss has to be the bossy big sister.

  “Fuck it, Josie. Use that pussy. Wait—I mean... don’t have sex or anything, but what the heck? Let Colton know how you feel. Make him realize that even though he cares for you as much as a sister, you are the furthest thing from it. Show him you are a smart, sexy single woman—with a readily available, very non-sisterly pussy—who he would be lucky to get to date,” I said.

  Josie’s wide eyes turned up at me, her mouth hung open. “Who are you and what did you do with my sister? And you can stop dropping the f-bomb and saying pussy now. Really. It sounds so unnatural coming from you.” She shook her head in such a disgusted way, I laughed.

  * * *

  One week later, it was the end of Josie’s trial month. She had done a fantastic job. The way she most impressed me was with how she was handling the Colton situation. Just a few hours after the Equestrian Brunch, she came to me and apologized for her emotional display during work hours. Then, she told me that she was here to work and that she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her opportunity at having a career on the ranch. After our chat, I didn’t see her give Colton much more than a polite ‘hello.’

  Josie brought a fun, light addition to the team. Her eye for detail improved with every event. By the end of her month, I happily told Hayes that he was completely right in telling me that I needed full-time help. And he agreed I had been right to take a chance on Josie. When it was time to tell my sister that she had earned the job, Hayes and I called her into my office. She tiptoed nervously through the door and quietly took a seat in one of the club chairs. Folding her hands demurely in her lap, she waited for us to speak.

  The big sister in me couldn’t help but make her sweat—just a little. Standing in front of her, I leaned back on my desk. Crossing my arms over my chest, I heaved a great sigh. “Josie, Josie, Josie. What are we going to do with you?”

  Hayes took a seat in the club chair next to her. He held his hand over his mouth, hiding a grin.

  Josie looked from me to Hayes, then back at me. “What? What did I do wrong?”

  “Stealing,” I said, narrowing my brow and trying to keep a straight face.

  She popped up out of her chair like a jack in the box. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  Hayes stood as well. “I’m afraid we are going to have to have you escorted from the ranch. Memaw, can you come in here?” he called.

  Josie’s brows knit together in confusion as she looked to the doorway of my office. Memaw came in, carrying a crystal tray holding one of her famous triple chocolate cakes. The very same Brody had her make for me the day he gave me my full-time job.

  Josie’s hands went to her mouth, her eyes wide as she watched the entire staff of the ranch come in behind Memaw.

  Brody gave her a big bear hug, saying, “Congratulations, kid, the job is yours.”

  They all hugged her and congratulated her. Then, Memaw suggested we move this party out of my tiny office and into the Mess Hall.

  Josie lagged behind the others to hug me. “You mean it, Louie? You really want me?”

  “Yes, Josie. You did a fantastic job. And you proved that when times get tough, you keep your emotions at bay and remain—”

  “Don’t say it!” she laughed.

  “I’m going to say it. Professional.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Now let’s go get some cake.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alice’s face popped into the frame of my open office door. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she spoke. Her voice lilted at the end as if asking a question. “Louanne. You have a visitor?”

  The local flower shop wasn’t due to meet with me until two. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Standing, I smoothed my skirt. I asked Alice, “Who is it?”

  Before she could answer, a large woman dressed head to toe in a brightly colored floral pattern that hurt my eyes elbowed her way past Alice and into my office. A purple hat nearly tipped off her head as she struggled to get her large alligator skin purse and many bags through the door. Throwing her things down in one of my buffalo-checked club chairs, she plopped down in the other. Holding her hand up toward me, she said, “Pamela Greenwich. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Hello, Pamela.” Hesitantly, I held my hand out to her. Taking it, she pumped it up and down several times, her grip digging into my bones. “I’m—

  “Oh, honey! No need to introduce yourself! Louanne Dixon. Or, better known where I come from as, the queen of Ranch Romance.” She reached up, straightening the brim of her hat.

  “Ranch Romance?” I slowly eased myself down into my chair. “Excuse me? I’m not sure I know what you are talking about.”

  “Honey—have you not checked the hits on your website? Every time you post another event, every woman under the age of forty is clicking on it so fast your head would spin. I’m surprised you haven’t cashed in, sold ads, and bought yourself a sweet little Porsche by now.” Her eyes roved around my decorated office. “This is beautiful.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled her phone and a pair of glasses out. Putting the glasses on the tip of her nose, she mumbled to herself, “Where is that tiny little picture of a camera?”

  “Uh... ma’am,” I said, trying to get the woman’s attention.

  “Hang on, honey. I just need to find this camera function, so I can start snapping pictures of your office. Why do they make the pictures so dang small?”

  “I don’t want to be rude, but you will most certainly not be photographing my office. I don’t even know who you are!” I cried.

  She looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “How rude of me. Have I not properly introduced myself? Pamela Greenwich, queen of the blogging world. Ten years ago, I held the first bloggers conference for woman business owners—Women Bloggers World. Over one thousand women came. Today, ten thousand are in attendance. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me.”

  “I’m not online that much—other than Pinterest and posting on the site. And I wouldn’t know the first thing about blogging.”

  “Honey—you are already a famous blogger. I may be behind on the technology—my assistants handle the majority of the tech stuff—but you have to tell me you realize that those pretty pics and comments you post on the CLAS website are considered a blog. Women wait on pins and needles by their computers to see your latest events. I assume you’ve been booked every weekend for the next year?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s just because Brody’s been growing the business. CLAS ranch did happen to make it to Travel and Dining’s Top Ten destination weddings. Is that how you heard of me? Through the Top Ten article?” I asked.

  “Travel and Dining? What on Earth is that? No. It’s because of your blog. Don’t the clients mention it to you when they book the place?” she asked.

  I did get a lot of compliments about the posts I did on the website from potential clients. Now that Pamela mentioned it, looking back over the past six months, every bride who had come in had, in some way, mentioned the site. I breathed, “I had no idea.”

  “Have you ever checked your analytics? Saw how many hits you were getting?” she asked.

  Wordlessly, I shook my head. “I would have no idea how to even go about that.”

  Pamela called over her shoulder. “Derrick! Bring the laptop!” She gave me a broad smile.

  I watched in shock as a thin, tall man i
n a too small black suit came scurrying into my office. Giving me an apologetic nod as way of introduction, he placed the open laptop he held in his hand onto my desk. “Miss Louanne, it’s a pleasure to meet you in the flesh. Can I just say that you have absolutely turned New York society on its head with your Ranch Romance designs? For the first time in the history of brides, we are seeing women tromp down the aisle in the cowgirl boot.”

  “Uh, thanks?” I replied. My eyes focused on the page he had up on his computer. It was an analysis of CLAS ranch’s monthly website visits. My brow knitted together. “How did you get this information? Isn’t it private?”

  A blush rose on Derrick’s cheeks. He breathed the word with reverence. “Hayes.”

  Pamela fanned her face with her hand. “My, my, my, you all grow them up right out here in the middle of nowhere. Where are we again, Derrick?”

  “Wyoming,” he answered.

  “Whew. Well, I do say whatever you are feeding these cowboys is doing them right. I’ve never seen such strapping young men in my life—no offense, Derrick—”

  “None taken, Ms. Pam.”

  “And that Hayes, what a—”

  “He’s mine, Ms. Pamela,” I said.

  “I already knew that, Louanne. You should hear the way he talks about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s asking you to marry him before the year is up,” she hooted.

  “He has asked me to marry him. We are engaged.” I held my ring out for Pamela and Derrick’s inspection.

  “Gosh almighty, girl—that rock is big enough to ice skate on! Not only did you catch yourself one hunk’a burning love, looks like the cowboy is loaded to boot. Did I just make a pun? Derrick, was that a pun?”

  Derrick cleared his throat. “It’s a lovely ring, Ms. Louanne. And you will make a lovely bride.”

  “How are your wedding plans going, Louanne? A wedding planner like you? Well now, that’s going to be the most perfect, beautiful wedding ever. You are going to put all the other weddings to shame, girl. I just know it. What are your colors going to be?” She sat on the edge of her seat awaiting my reply.

  “I... ah... I’m not sure yet,” I answered.

  “Well, what about decorations? Are you going to go with your more rustic, woodsy themes, or really play up that ranch romance you are so well known for?” She looked at me expectantly.

  “I... I’m not sure,” I answered.

  “How about the cake? That’s an easy one. Chocolate or vanilla?”

  I had no idea why, but her questions had me near tears. My cheeks flushed, and an uneasy feeling crept into my stomach. My answer came out in a rush of breath. “I don’t know.”

  Derrick smiled at me sympathetically. I had a feeling Pamela probably overwhelmed him from time to time as well. “I’m sure it will be a lovely occasion. Perhaps we should get back to the numbers? Ms. Louanne, here is the number of visits your website has had in the past year—”

  I interrupted, “It’s not my website. It’s Brody’s. He owns the ranch. He started it years ago. Then, when I went full time, he added a section for me to post about the weddings.”

  “And the section he added to the website is called a blog, Miss Louanne,” Derrick said respectfully.

  I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “Well, I get that, but I was never ‘blogging.’ I was just updating our website after events—”

  Derrick softened his voice. “I understand. But the only page people are visiting is the one that you manage. And your following is increasing daily. If you created your own wedding/ event blog, with these very same posts, you would have a very substantial income. Very.” His brows rose to me as if to reiterate the word very.

  I stood from my chair, saying, “I’m sorry—this is all just a bit much for me. I wasn’t expecting company, and I don’t know much about website analysis, and... where did you say you were from?”

  “New York City. We just got in this morning. We like to surprise our next victim,” Pamela said with a big grin.

  “Victim?” I asked, feeling my face pale.

  Derrick shot a ‘behave already’ look Pamela’s way. “What Ms. Greenwich means to say is that we like to come unannounced. That way the media and bigger corporations don’t get wind of who our next blogging star is before we can interact with them. You stand to make a lot more money if we help you instead of them. And all we ask is that you speak at Women’s Blogger World in exchange for our services.”

  I held up my hands. “I appreciate your coming all this way, but—”

  Pamela interrupted before I could continue. “Say no more. It’s a lot to think about and Derrick has a ton to go over with you before you make your decision. Don’t give us an answer yet. Let’s share a meal and then when you have a full stomach we can hit the books. Memaw invited us to lunch, didn’t she, Derrick?”

  He shot me another apologetic look. “She did. Ribs, I think she said?”

  Standing up from her chair, Pamela took her glasses off, folding them carefully and handing them to Derrick. He took them from her and slid them into his breast pocket. Pamela put both her hands on my desk, leaning in. Her face became stoic. Her demeanor reminded me of old mafia movies as she spoke. “Blogging is a very, very lucrative business.”

  Derrick shot me a look. “Very.”

  “What exactly does ‘very’ mean to you?” I asked.

  “Our least paid blogger clears about three grand a month,” he answered.

  Pamela boasted, “But our highest paid friend makes over three times that. And they have plenty of time to keep their full-time job, too. Not to mention the sponsorships, payment for trial products, speaking engagements. It’s a very lucrative career.”

  Quickly, I did the math in my head. Even if I averaged less than their highest paid blogger, if I kept my job at the ranch and started my own site for the events, I would double my salary. “But then my clients would be faced with ads every time they wanted to see pictures from an event?”

  Pamela dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand in the air. “People are immune to ads. They don’t even see them these days. But we’ll cover all that with you. First, let’s go dig into those ribs. I can’t wait to try some good old-fashioned country cooking.” Leaving her bags in my chair, Pamela showed herself out of my office.

  Giving me another apologetic smile, Derrick closed the laptop, thrust it underneath his arm, and followed his boss through the door.

  Heaving a great sigh, I flopped down into my chair. Ten minutes with those two strangers and I was completely wiped out. Picking up my notebook, I looked over my to-do list for the day. I could just forget about it. From what I had gleaned of Pamela, she was going to steamroll any plans I had made for my day.

  I wanted to hide in my office. But, I was hungry. And I wanted to see Hayes. Also, to ask him what he was thinking when he gave access to the website to these crazy New Yorkers.

  Entering the Mess Hall, I heard Pamela before I saw her. Her booming voice carried through the hall. “And Memaw, you could debut your recipes on the site. A whole downhome cooking blog to accompany the wedding one. Louanne could take the photographs of the food—does she do all her own photography, because it’s phenomenal—and...”

  Her voice prattled on as I tried to make my way through the shadows to find Hayes. Where was he? My stomach rumbled, my hunger suddenly overtaking my desire to find my man. I managed to sneak into the double doors of the kitchen.

  Memaw was standing at the stove, serving up huge plates of ribs, mashed potatoes, and buttery ears of corn. When she saw me, she hollered out, “There’s the lady of the hour! That Pamela had been asking for your whereabouts. I told Hayes she was going to be too much for you and you’d be hiding out. Here you go—eat up. I think you’re going to need your strength to deal with those two.” With a loud cackle, she handed me a plate.

  “Thanks. I think I’ll just eat in here if you don’t mind.” I pulled up a stool to her counter and dug my fork into the pile of creamy potatoes.

>   “I’ll let Hayes know you’re in here, sweetheart,” she said with a nod.

  I gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks—”

  Memaw hollered over her shoulder at the office door behind her. “Haaaayes!”

  I laughed, taking another bite of my potatoes. Looking up, my heart skipped a little beat as Hayes appeared in the kitchen. He took a plate from Memaw, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He pulled up a stool, sitting down next to me and kissing my cheek as well.

  “Thanks for lunch, Memaw,” he said, spreading a napkin in his lap.

  Memaw wiped her hands on her apron, giving Hayes a stern look. “I told you she’d be hiding out after you let those New Yorkers loose on her.”

  My brows rose to Hayes. “You care to explain what Pamela Greenwich and her sidekick are doing having access to CLAS’ website?”

  He shrugged, picking up a sauce-covered rib. “Pamela came to me this morning. She made some great points. I think she might be right.”

  “Right about what?” I asked.

  He took a bite, dabbed at his mouth, then looked at me. “You, Louanne. When they came into my office and told me about how popular your posts have become, I grew curious. When I pulled up the website analytics, I was stunned. Your posts have incredibly heavy traffic. You stand to make a lot of money through advertising on your own site.”

  “And so, you just let them right into my office?” I asked.

  He gave a chuckle. “I just pictured you sitting at your desk, that to-do list in front of you, tackling your day, and then, Pamela busting in with that hat on and everything. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. I apologize—I guess Colton’s pranking ways have rubbed off on me.”

  “It was... quite a surprise, I have to say.” I gave a laugh, remembering Pamela’s grand entrance.

  “I would have loved to see your face when she came into your office,” Hayes said.

  “She certainly made herself comfortable,” I replied.

  “Oh, good—I told her she should,” he said.