“It’s kale.”
“What’s kale?”
“A vegetable.”
“No shit, that much I gathered by looking at it. Are you going to cook it?”
“Yes,” she replied. Her tone was patient, even as she wasn’t pleased having her menu choices questioned. “I’m finishing the potato soup with it.”
“The men don’t eat things like that.”
“They, and you, work hard, and need to eat properly. All of you need to eat vegetables to stay healthy.”
“We do,” he replied with a huff, “vegetables we can recognize. Potatoes. Carrots. Corn.”
Despite his irritating tone, she delivered a tight smile. “I’ll tell you what. If the men hate it, I’ll never prepare it again, but I guarantee they’ll like it.”
“Sure hope so,” he mumbled as he left the kitchen.
She resumed running her knife through the kale, picking up speed now that Ethan wasn’t around. She purposely slowed whenever he was, not wanting him to question her skills, especially with the story she’d told him. Helping in a small family-run restaurant wouldn’t account for her culinary skills, and she didn’t want to raise his suspicion. He was obviously intelligent, and she swore he scrutinized her every move each time he laid eyes on her. She had to be careful around him. The ranch wasn’t exactly her idea of a great place to live, but it was the perfect place to hide.
After dinner, which all the men save Ethan raved over, he once again carried plates and platters into the kitchen and then loaded the dishwasher. He’d done so after breakfast and lunch today. She supposed it would become a routine, and appreciated his assistance. She didn’t need help, but his actions becoming a habit pointed to his willingness to keep her around. As he didn’t appear as grouchy as he was before dinner, she was eager to interact with him, and develop a rapport, something that could only solidify her hold on her job.
“So, the first dinner went well,” she ventured.
“Yep.”
Not the answer she was hoping for, she waited until he finished loading the dishwasher. He turned it on and then, seeming to feel her eyes on him, turned to her and scowled.
“What?”
“Well,” she began, devising a way to pull him into a conversation, “I was thinking about making something for dessert tomorrow.”
“And?”
His one word responses spoke of his disinterest. Irritated, her temper flared. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. With a sly inward smile, she said something certain to draw a response from him. “What do you think the men would like more? A cake or a soufflé?”
Expecting him to balk at the very thought of a soufflé, she was shocked when he rolled his eyes and then headed for the door. Just before he left the kitchen, he called a surprising remark over his shoulder.
“You seem to know what they like. Why ask me?”
As she cleaned the kitchen, she tossed their last exchange around in her mind. He seemed angry that she’d made food the men liked, but that couldn’t be the case. It was her job to provide good meals for them. The obvious reason for his bad mood was his dislike of her. She probably shouldn’t have pushed him with the soufflé thing, but she was trying to get a feel for him, something he didn’t make easy. Normally she’d have had a boss pegged by now, and have devised a plan to deal with him. Ethan wasn’t easy to read and, while she wasn’t the chattiest person around, his reticence was troubling, a sign he was close to firing her. Her previous hopefulness regarding him building a routine with her fled in the face of his quietness. Her days at the ranch were numbered.
Back in her apartment, she showered, towel dried her hair and scrunched product into it, and then got comfortable in bed, a book in hand. It was a spy-thriller she’d bought at the train station in Winnipeg before boarding the train. She’d purchased two books at the time and had finished one of them on that long journey. This one was great and, while eager to lose herself in it, she couldn’t. The words seemed to scramble on the page as her mind kept drifting back to Ethan. She wasn’t sure what to do about him. He wasn’t impressed by her cooking, and didn’t find her attempts at conversation stimulating. If he’d shown any interest in her, she might have considered sleeping with him, merely to keep her job. Ha! Just to keep your job, huh? Not because he’s gorgeous? You can’t keep your eyes off him, but you’d just sleep with him for security. Sure. Ugh, her judgmental inner voice was at it again, but had called it perfectly.
Ethan was quite the man, about six-two she guessed, well-built, hair so dark it was almost black and with the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Cobalt, they looked capable of displaying intense emotion, but he seemed to only allow his disdain for her to show. Despite his rather callous treatment of her, she found her physical attraction to him growing. Everything about him was enticing, from how he walked and spoke, how dark stubble shadowed his lower face, jaw, and throat in the evenings, and how well his jeans hugged his rounded butt.
With an exasperated grunt, she placed the book on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. She’d never be able to read now. Going to sleep with wet hair would result in it being a disastrous mess the next day, but it was the only way to quell the thoughts of Ethan.
6
After slapping the alarm button roughly, Ethan flared his nostrils. Cinnamon buns? Sitting up, he could smell the coffee and bacon he had yesterday morning, but baked goods were added to this morning’s scent, and he was certain about the cinnamon.
Rushing through his washing and dressing routine, he trotted down the stairs to find Skip and a ranch hand, Randall, standing in the dining room, eating cinnamon buns, and actually moaning aloud. Hearing a male voice in the kitchen, he frowned. What the hell was going on? The men were early, normally only he and Skip would be in the house, with the others arriving right before breakfast was served. As wondrous as the cinnamon buns smelled, they certainly hadn’t drawn the men from the bunkhouse early, but he suspected the chance to spend time with Zoë had. After shooting Skip a disapproving glare, he entered the kitchen.
The sight that met his eyes had his anger rearing. Two more hands were in the kitchen, Jeff, and Murray. Zoë was before the stove, flipping bacon strips with tongs, Jeff leaned against the island watching as he ate a cinnamon bun, and Murray was beside Zoë. Extremely close to her, in fact. As she placed the tray back in the oven and stood straight, Murray, his eyes focused on her breasts, addressed her.
“You cook bacon in the oven?”
“Yeah. The strips come out flatter that way. Well, they would on medium heat in a pan too, but this way it frees up the stovetop to cook eggs.”
“That’s smart,” Murray responded, a definite flirty edge to his voice. “You’re smart and pretty.”
Before Ethan could tell Murray to get the hell out of the kitchen, Zoë huffed dramatically and, turning to Murray, plunked her hands on her hips.
“Please. Do I come out to the barn, stand there and say, ‘Gee, Murray, you’re so handsome when you shovel cow shit’?”
As the trio still hadn’t noticed his presence, Ethan suppressed a laugh at Murray’s reaction. The man looked as if he’d been slapped. He pulled his lanky frame straight as an expression that looked an awful lot like humiliation crept across his face.
“No,” he snapped, “and I don’t shovel shit. That’s Jeff’s job.”
“Whatever,” Zoë countered, clearly irritated by Murray. “My point is I’m trying to work here, and it would be easier to do without being hit on. Now, both of you, out of my kitchen.”
Like a chastised dog with his tail between his legs, Murray’s shoulders slumped as he moved away from Zoë, Jeff behind him. Spotting Ethan, he dipped his head, and his eyes squirreled to the side. Ethan sure hoped he realized he’d been caught. It wasn’t the first time Murray’s behaviour was displeasing, and Ethan had already warned him about his unprofessionalism.
“Morning,” Murray mumbled as he passed Ethan and left the kitchen.
As always, Jeff followed
along wordlessly. Skip always referred to the two as ‘Mutt and Jeff’ and it was easy to see why. Murray towered over the diminutive Jeff who usually agreed with Murray’s ideas. With the pair gone, Ethan turned his attention to Zoë who stared at him, her expression perhaps a mixture of surprise and apprehension. He supposed she was either pissed at Murray or worried Ethan would reprimand her, especially after his insistence of no workplace drama.
“Morning,” he said, casual as could be, as he crossed the floor to get a coffee.
“Good morning,” she returned though not with the cheery tone she’d employed yesterday, and then turned her back to him to resume cooking.
He allowed a smile to take hold of his lips. He’d been worried about her on the ranch, but she could obviously handle herself. Now, she seemed nervous, as if she thought he was thinking about replacing her when, in actuality, he wasn’t as adamant about doing so any longer. The coffee alone might prompt him to keep her around. He still had doubts about her, and chief amongst them was why she hid her culinary skills. No way did she learn that just helping out in a restaurant. She’d lied about her past work experience and he couldn’t help but wonder what else she’d been deceitful about. While she purposely slowed down around him, she couldn’t hide her ability. Coupled with her ease in dealing with Murray, he drew a conclusion about her. She’d worked in a commercial kitchen environment, a large one, and had undoubtedly held a position of power, hence her comfort working with men exclusively. His guess was she’d been a sous-chef, perhaps even a chef. It explained her skills and her confidence. She reminded him of women he’d served with, both in her self-assuredness, and her proud carriage. Why she’d take a job as a cook when she could demand a chef’s salary was a mystery, and he wanted to solve it. He had no idea where he’d find the time to, but he vowed to uncover what she was up to.
7
Wednesday afternoon had Zoë venturing outdoors to explore the ranch. Dinner plans were well in hand and, with nothing to do before she had to begin preparations, she decided to see the men in action. Despite having their duties described to her, she wanted to see them at work, curious as to what they did all day while she was indoors.
She’d just finished exploring the house. Well, the main level of it anyway. Already having felt intrusive doing that much, she hadn’t dared ventured upstairs. The great room she’d first seen on Sunday was impressive with ceiling to floor windows on one side, broken only by narrow walls in between the giant panes of glass. It was a warm and inviting space with leather furniture and a massive fireplace constructed of river rocks. Her favourite room was the den, again with leather furniture, an over-stuffed armchair catching her eye, and featuring a wall lined with bookshelves. It was an enticing place to read although not many titles had appealed to her, the books seemingly comprised of history tomes and crafting guides. Ethan certainly hadn’t purchased the latter, and she’d noticed other feminine touches throughout the rooms. She wondered if there was an ex-Mrs. Collins, or perhaps even a deceased one. Then again, Ethan didn’t come across as wounded or bitter, more just a bit of an asshole, really.
She tucked the sweater’s collar around her throat to block the brisk wind. It carried a chill with it, one that hadn’t been present much this spring, but winter’s end was often marked by gross variations in weather. A few trees dotted the property but this corner of Alberta was prairie land, ripe for harsh winds. Never having been in this part of the country before, she found a stark beauty to the prairies, an untamed charm, with vast skies running into expansive views. There was a feel of freedom to the place. Strange, considering it was almost a prison to her, the ranch being a small area she didn’t dare stray far from. Bison Bluffs was the extent of how far she’d venture and then only when necessary. Hiding was just that and, until she received word, the ranch was where she’d remain, safely tucked away from big cities, crowds of people, or any place the men she’d eluded could find her.
Following the sound of lowing, she rounded a huge barn and spotted a long fence. Behind it she clearly saw cows and men on horseback. She strode toward it until furious barking caused her to halt. Two dogs leapt over the fence and barreled toward her, still barking. As she stood still, debating what to do, knowing she shouldn’t run from them, a third dog, a Boxer, clumsily clawed its way under the bottom fence rung and then followed its comrades.
At a loud whistle, all three dogs stopped in their tracks and quieted. The sound of hoof beats drew her eyes past the dogs to Ethan atop a horse. Despite her ongoing fear of the dogs, she couldn’t look away from the captivating sight of him. In obvious complete control of the massive animal, his straight posture was commanding and relaxed at once, and he and the horse seemed to be a single entity, moving with a conjoined smoothness that was breathtaking. Ethan brought the horse to a stop, dismounted, hopped the fence with a surprising grace, and then employed long strides to cross the distance between them. Oh, God! She moaned inwardly. He does wear chaps. If she’d ever seen a sexier-looking man, she couldn’t recall. Cowboy hat, boots, well-fitted jeans, and chaps. Like most women raised in cities, the idea of a cowboy was an enticing one to her, but one that had seemed distant and unobtainable. The physical manifestation of that fantasy was striding toward her and she resisted an urge to bite her lip. He stopped a few feet from her and the dogs gathered around his legs. When he held up a hand, the dogs sat, the Boxer on one side of him, the other dogs on the other.
“Um.” Her cheeks felt heated. Maybe it was him—why did he have to be so hot?—or perhaps the feeling he’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t have. Surely, he didn’t expect her to stay in the house when she didn’t have work to do in the kitchen, but the look upon his face made her wonder. He appeared to want an explanation for her presence and, seeing how she’d ended up inadvertently interrupting his work, she forced herself to clarify. “I wanted to see what you guys do during the day. I thought you’d have the cows further out by now.”
“Most of them are, but this group is pregnant and due soon, so we keep them close to the barn, just in case.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” She looked to the dogs again, still wary of them and then back to Ethan when he chuckled.
“Don’t worry about the dogs. They just barked to alert me someone was here. Now that I’m interacting with you, they won’t view you as a threat, and won’t bark at you again.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. While the Boxer seemed relaxed, the other two stared at her with a scary intensity. One had weird eyes, sort of like broken marbles, and it unnerved her. Still, this was the most Ethan had spoken to her since the interview, and she wanted to keep the conversation going.
“There are more dogs than these three, right? I’ve heard them barking and it sounded like way more than three.”
“The other four are out with the rest of the men.”
“Wow. Seven dogs. What are their names?”
“These two are Happy and Sneezy and this dunderhead,” he said as he motioned to the Boxer, “is Dopey.”
When she frowned uncertainly, he snickered. Smiling at his upbeat mood, never having seen it before, she shook her head. “You had me going there for a minute, thinking you named your dogs after cartoon characters.”
“As if. These two are Mouse and Kelly, and the Boxer is Butthead.”
Now she chuckled. Admittedly, the dog didn’t appear very bright, staring at her vacantly with his tongue spilling out of the side of his mouth, but the moniker seemed harsh. “That’s kind of mean.”
“No, it’s warranted believe me. He’s about as sharp as a mashed potato.”
She snort-giggled at that and Ethan grinned in response. “It’s still kind of mean,” she insisted. “He can’t be that stupid.”
“Yeah, he can. He’s stunned, truly. He suffered a brain injury just after he showed up here.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. What happened to him?”
“Well, he just appeared one day. Some idiot must have dumped him here to be rid of
him. It happens, people leaving cats and dogs on farms, figuring one more animal won’t make a difference, but he’d obviously never been around livestock before. The bulls scared him but he chased my girls. I’d already talked to folks around here asking them to put out the word I had a Boxer that needed a home, but nobody wanted him. I had no intention of keeping him and Cole, the veterinarian in town, put a notice up in his office. Still no one wanted him, and I didn’t want to, but I was set to take him to the shelter in Lethbridge. He couldn’t work cattle and dogs here have jobs to do. Anyway, one day he got too close to one particularly spirited heifer and she booted him in the head.”
“That’s awful! He could have been killed.”
“Easily, yeah. I thought he was done for but rushed him to Cole anyway, and sure enough Cole saved him. After all Butthead went through I didn’t have the heart to take him to the shelter. He’s still a shitty working dog, but he learned his lesson about getting too close to the cattle.” He shrugged. “But he truly is dumb as dirt.”
His last comment drew a smile from her again. “Well, he looks like a great companion.”
“That he is,” he agreed. “He follows me everywhere and he’s a fun dog. He’s always doing something wacky. Truthfully, I thought he was stupid before he got kicked. He’s definitely worse now, but he was stunned before. Like all foam and no beer.”
When she chuckled, once more finding Ethan’s insights funny, he grinned again. Like the others before, it was lop-sided, and she found it endearing. “You’re certainly full of insults for the poor thing. How many of those do you know?”
“Tons. He has an intellect rivalled only by garden tools. He’s as much use as an ashtray on a motorcycle.”
She laughed loudly and so vigorously she doubled up. Ethan must have found her reaction amusing because he kept going, even when she waved her arms for him to stop.
“He couldn’t pull a greased string out of a cat’s ass. He's so dense light bends around him.”
Done a Runner (Wanted Men of Bison Bluffs Book 1) Page 3