Hunk of the Month

by JoAnn Ross

Buck ignored him. “Reckon your grandpappy will be real happy to have you back home.”

  “I imagine he will,” Zach said. “He’s living on the ranch with my sister and her husband and kids. According to Kayla, he still riders every day with the little mutt collie who’s gotta be near as old as him in dog years. I thought I might try to drive up there while I’m here.”

  “Bet he’d like that. Not that he doesn’t have a lot of company already, sounds like. I’ve got one great-grandson—that’ d be my granddaughter Katie’s baby boy, Dillon—living clear across the danged country. And this one here—” he tilted his head toward Lucky “—doesn’t seem real inclined to do his part to fill the house with kids anytime soon.”

  “I thought it might be a good idea to find myself a wife first,” Lucky said neutrally.

  While the men were verbally sparring in a way that had her thinking it was not the first time they’d discussed the subject, Jude took the opportunity to glance around the front room, taking in the well-worn bark brown leather sofa and matching chairs, the pine tables that looked to be handmade, the monk’s cloth curtains at the windows.

  It was a room designed for comfort, for relaxing in after a hard day’s work. It was also definitely a man’s room. The only touches of femininity were the copper pot filled with daisies sitting on the coffee table and the needlepoint renditions of deer and elk grazing in mountain meadows hanging on the gleaming pinepaneled walls.

  “I love your home. It looks so comfortable.” Another absolute truth. Jude decided she was on a roll.

  “The place has seen a lot of living in the past seventy-five years,” Buck agreed with obvious pride. “Things are slower to change out here than what you’re used to, I reckon. In fact, I’m still sleeping in the same room I was born in.”

  “Imagine that.” Jude was suitably impressed. “I may have grown up in New York, Mr. O’Neill, which might make you think we wouldn’t have all that much in common. But I can appreciate roots. And now that I’ve seen your home, I can certainly understand why your grandson was in such a hurry to get back here.”

  Once again Buck looked over toward Lucky who’d been grinding his teeth as Jude had proceeded to do her best to charm his grandfather.

  “By the way,” Buck informed his grandson, “Katie did manage to say, before hanging up, that there’d been a little misunderstanding about Jack deserting her and Dillon.”

  Lucky rubbed his jaw. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” Jude was relieved that he didn’t mention his sister’s not-so-white lie on her behalf.

  “So, she and my great-grandson are okay?”

  “They seem to be. So far, anyway.”

  Lucky studiously avoided glancing over at Jude, who experienced a twinge of guilt that she’d used his loyalty to his little sister as leverage. Then again, she hadn’t really been lying. Although she had no concrete proof that Kate’s job would be in danger if she was fired, Tycoon Mary certainly hadn’t shown any signs of being open-minded since taking over the publisher’s office. Kate had vocally backed Jude on every issue; that alone would have put her career in jeopardy.

  “Glad you made that banker she married see the light,” Buck decided, apparently satisfied with Lucky’s less than revealing answer.

  Jude found it interesting that the older man had obviously trusted Lucky to fix whatever problem Kate might have had. Such automatic confidence had her experiencing a vague tug of envy. After all, she’d struggled her entire life to win her father’s approval. Unfortunately, although she’d managed to escape criticism as she’d gotten older and gained more experience, she couldn’t recall her father ever congratulating her on a job well done. That he’d never acknowledged her dedication to the empire he’d created was one of the few failures of her life. And one that continued to hurt.

  “I’ll bet you’re hungry after that long flight,” Buck said to Zach and Jude, breaking into her unhappy thoughts. “Since I wasn’t sure when you all would get up here from Cheyenne, I made up a mess of my five-alarm chili.” He winked. “The good thing about chili is the longer it sits, the better it gets.”

  “Five-alarm chili?” Jude wondered how many rolls of Turns it would take to put out those particular flames.

  “Sounds great,” Zach said.

  “Buck’s chili wins the grand prize ribbon for the hottest every year at the state fair,” Lucky assured her. His grin suggested her trepidation hadn’t gotten by him. Then again, despite his outwardly laconic attitude, she suspected very little did.

  “Is that so? How wonderful.” She certainly didn’t want to insult Buck O’Neill before she could garner his complete support for her project.

  “We think so.” Lucky took off his hat and sent it flying across the room where it caught on the wooden hook exactly as he’d planned. The fact that he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense wasn’t lost on Jude. “My grandmama Josie used to say it was perfect for stripping paint off the side of the barn.”

  “My Josie was a real teaser,” Buck countered. “Just like her smart-mouthed grandson.” He shot Lucky a fondly warning look before turning back to Jude. “Mebe you should put me in your magazine, instead.”

  Beside her Zach made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh.

  Feeling she was losing control of the situation again, Jude managed a faint smile. “I think an interview with you would add a lot to the article.” It was her turn to slant a wicked grin Lucky’s way. “You can tell us all about what kind of boy your grandson was.”

  “A hellion, pure and simple,” Buck said. “Near drove his mama and daddy crazy with his cockeyed stunts. Why, I recollect this one time, when he was six, when he drove the old pickup right through the side of his grandma’s henhouse. You’ve never seen so many feathers fly. We were havin’ stewed chicken for weeks after that little adventure.”

  Jude laughed as she was supposed to. “I’ve never had an award-winning dinner before, Mr. O’Neill. It certainly smells wonderful.”

  “It’ll clear your sinuses, that’s for sure,” Buck said with gusto. “I’ll let Lucky show you two upstairs to your rooms so you can freshen up while I spoon it out. Oh, and call me Buck. We’re not real formal in this neck of the woods.”

  This time her smile was sincere. “Thank you, Buck. I’m looking forward to your dinner.”

  Okay, so it was another lie. As she watched his eyes light up with satisfaction, she assured herself that it was also a harmless one.

  Zach nodded to Buck and also turned to leave. There was a little jostling at the foot of the stairs as Lucky, playing the gentleman, stepped back so Jude could precede him and Zach. She, not wanting to give Lucky such an up close and personal view of her bottom, insisted he go first. Unfortunately, he proved more stubborn, and although she was grateful for him not saying a word, she imagined she could feel those brown eyes watching every movement of her hips.

  He opened the first door at the top of the stairs. “It’s not fancy,” he told Zach. “But the bed’s firm and the sheets are clean.”

  “It’ll be great.” Zach entered the room and tossed his camera onto the bed. “Thanks.”

  “Yours is right across the hall,” Lucky said. “I figured you wouldn’t mind staying in Katie’s room.”

  Jude’s first impression was that the bedroom had been frozen in time. It was obviously the room of a teenager. Colorful plush stuffed animals covered the canopied bed, photographs were stuck into the white frame of the mirror and a bubblegum-pink-and-white striped comforter covered the mattress. Frilly lace curtains hung at the wall and skirted an antique dressing table.

  “My mama’s kind of sentimental,” Lucky explained as he viewed the obvious surprise on Jude’s face. “She’s kept it the same as it was when Katie went back east to college.”

  “I think that’s sweet.” She paused in front of a blurred photograph of Lucky wearing an American flag shirt and sitting—just barely—atop an enormous Brahma bull. “I’m also impressed.”

 
“Don’t be. A second after that picture was snapped, I landed flat on my ass in the dirt.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  “Not as bad as when the stupid bovine stepped on my shoulder.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Here.” He reached out, took hold of her hand and brought it to the shoulder in question. “Amazing what they can do with plastic these days, isn’t it?”

  She could feel the lumps beneath her fingertips and marveled at how much pain he must have been in. Then, against her will, she couldn’t help noticing the warmth emanating from his skin through the cotton twill.

  “Your mother must have been frantic.”

  “Nah. She knows injuries come with the territory. After all, she met my dad at a rodeo.” Lucky chuckled in a way that Jude knew would have strummed innumerable sensual chords if they hadn’t been here in a room radiating Kate O’Neill’s youthful innocence.

  “She was the nurse working the medical tent,” Lucky continued. “He took a dive off a bull and gave himself one helluva concussion. Later he swore he did it just to get her attention.”

  “Did he?” If Lucky’s father had even half the natural charisma Lucky possessed, Jude figured he definitely wouldn’t have needed to go flying off any bucking bull to get a woman’s attention.

  “Mom’s always liked to claim that she thought he was too brash, too arrogant and too damn chauvinistic.” Lucky’s grin touched his eyes, turning them to that lustrous amber gold again. “But they’ve been together ever since that first day. In fact, in thirty-five years, they’ve never missed a night sleeping under the same roof.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “If you could see them together, you wouldn’t find it so amazing. There was a time, back when I was in high school, that it was downright embarrassing to have parents who were so crazy about each other.”

  His smile turned reminiscent. “There was this one time, during my junior year, when they were roped into chaperoning the homecoming dance. You have no idea how it feels to have all the other kids see your parents slow dancing cheek to cheek.”

  “No,” Jude said softly. “I don’t.”

  The little girl, who’d grown up wishing for two parents who’d love each other and adore her, experienced another little tug of envy. The grown woman struggling to save her career was wondering how she could talk all three O’Neill men into appearing in the article.

  Oh, she’d keep the clothes on the older two, of course. But the charisma, not to mention the legacy of the Double Ought that each father had passed on to his son, could make a powerful story.

  “well,” he said when a little silence settled over the room, “I’ll leave you to your freshening up. This is one of the two bedrooms in the place with its own bathroom. Mom and Dad had it added on when Katie turned thirteen because no one could get into the main one. It’s right through there.” He tilted his head in the direction of a snow-white door bearing a red-and-white Laramie County High School Mustangs banner, then left the room.

  Alone for the first time since she’d gotten up hours earlier, Jude allowed herself a moment to succumb to her exhaustion. She sank down onto the pink-and-white mattress, absently picked up a worn, obviously well-loved stuffed Saint Bernard, and hugged it to her chest as she studied the photo of Lucky hanging on to that huge, bucking bull.

  She’d never, in her entire life, met a man like Lucky O’Neill. And she’d certainly never met one who made her feel as if she belonged in this room—as if she were a confused, easily flustered seventeen-year-old girl. Which was strange, because even at seventeen she’d never rattled. Her father had once commented on her having ice water in her veins. That single statement had been the closest thing to a compliment she’d ever received from the larger-than-life man she’d tried so hard to emulate. To please. To, dammit, impress.

  “Oh, Kate,” she murmured into the Saint Bernard’s silky fur, “you were so right. He is absolutely perfect.”

  He was also too appealing for comfort. He had her thinking things she was better off not thinking. Wanting things she’d forgotten she wanted. Deep down, primal things.

  When her stomach growled, triggered by the scent of chili that had drifted upstairs, Jude shook her head in self-disgust, tossed the stuffed dog back onto the bed, stood up and marched with a long purposeful stride into the bathroom.

  As she washed up and repaired her makeup, she reminded herself that this trip was about Hunk of the Month magazine. She’d never allowed herself to mix work and pleasure and she wasn’t about to now. Which meant, she warned herself firmly as she followed the appealing tendrils of simmering meat and chili back down the stairs, that a brief hot affair with her next hunk was out of the question.

  7

  THE LARGE KITCHEN could have come from a country decorating magazine. The cabinets, countertops and large, functional table and chairs taking up the center of the room were pine and, like the coffee table in the living room, seemingly hand-hewn. Cheery red-and-white curtains hung at the windows, copper pots hung above a center island she suspected had been added long after the house was first built. The evening sunset streaming through the windows was tinged with a pink-and-orange hue that made the room appear even warmer. And more cozy.

  The huge pot of chili was simmering on a six-burner stove; a plate of fragrant corn bread squares had been placed in the center of the table.

  Just the smell of that corn bread had her stomach growling again. “I think I could eat a horse,” Jude announced as she entered the room. She was momentarily disconcerted as all three men seated at the table immediately stood up.

  “I’ve known a horse or two in my time that probably deserved endin’ up as someone’s dinner,” Lucky said as he pulled out one of the heavy chairs for her. “But you’re safe. Buck only uses beef or elk in his chili.”

  “That’s comforting to know.”

  “What would you like to drink, Miz Lancaster?” Buck asked. “We’ve got beer, coffee, iced tea—”

  “The iced tea sounds lovely.” She smiled up at him, feeling almost comfortable for the first time since she’d gotten the call about Harper Stone earlier this morning. “And please, if we’re going to dispense with formalities, it’s jude.”

  “Like the patron saint of impossible tasks,” Lucky murmured as he sat down beside her.

  Jude had a very good idea exactly what impossible task he was referring to. Refusing to react to the barb, she smiled sweetly. “Exactly. He’s never let me down.”

  “Yet,” her frustrating hunk goaded.

  An unbidden spark of temper flared. Not wanting to get into yet another argument in front of the elderly man she was hoping to make an ally, Jude sipped her iced tea, hoping it would help her keep the cool head she’d always been known for.

  “So why is the ranch called the Double Ought?” she asked, directing her question to Buck.

  “Because in the early days, more than one rancher around these parts got his start with rustled cattle,” Buck explained. “There was many a time when my granddaddy, who homesteaded this land, had to protect his herd from rustlers and Indians with his shotgun.” He passed her a plate of butter yellow corn bread. “The Double Ought’s a size of shot. The name stuck. And it made for an nice enough brand.”

  “Isn’t that interesting.” Although she suspected her imagination was running away with her again, she found it not that big of a stretch to imagine Lucky seated astride his horse in front of a herd of cattle, holding a would-be rustler at gunpoint.

  She took a square of corn bread from the plate and broke it in half, releasing a burst of fragrant steam. Buck might have been a champion rodeo rider in his time, but Jude soon discovered that no one could fault his cooking.

  “Oh, this is wonderful.” She actually sighed her pleasure as she took her first bite. “What did you put in it?”

  “Nothing special.” The older man shrugged. “Just some chopped up jalapeo. And cheese and bacon.”

  “It’s heavenly.
Tildy—the cook who’s been in our family since my father was a boy—is from Georgia and I didn’t think anyone could top her corn bread. But I believe you’ve just done that.”

  A red flush that could have been embarrassment or pleasure, or a combination of both, rose from his collar. “Heck, ma’am, uh, Jude, it’s just basic family fare.”

  “Then your family is extremely fortunate. Believe me, Buck, if this corn bread is any example of your culinary talents, you could probably get work at any restaurant in Manhattan.”

  “Now why in the Sam Hill would I want to do that?” Buck asked as he placed a white pottery bowl of chili in front of her.

  Damn. Jude had known the minute she’d heard the words escape her mouth that they were precisely the wrong thing to say. Her only excuse was hunger and jet lag.

  “Good point,” she agreed. The five-alarm chili was the color of fire and proved every bit as hot. She took a bite, then immediately reached for her tea to cool off her tongue which she could have sworn had just burst into flames.

  “I warned you,” Lucky, who was sitting beside her, murmured.

  “So you did.” Recognizing a challenge when she heard one, Jude took another bite of chili. Then another. Strangely, either the first bite had scorched all the taste buds off her tongue, or she began to get acclimated to the flavor, because in no time at all, while everyone ate in comparative silence, she realized she’d finished off the entire bowl.

  “You were hungry,” Buck said, eyeing her empty dish.

  “Starving. But it was terrific. As good—and as hot—as advertised.”

  “Gal’s got good taste,” Buck told Lucky. “Which makes me wonder why she’d want to put you in her magazine.”

  Lucky chuckled. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

  Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Jude opted against reiterating his obvious hunk attribrutes. But that didn’t stop her from noticing the muscled forearms revealed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves.

  “We were in a bit of a deadline problem. The man we were going to feature bailed on us and we had to find a replacement at the last minute. Kate suggested Lucky. So, here I am.”