“Hon, you’re just in a slump. There’s got to be a decent job somewhere.” Seems Midge was always consoling the hapless redhead—of course, she had a consoling nature, a softness about her that made her a natural friend.
Cissy perked. “Damn right. And I’m pulling myself out.”
“And what does that mean, no more family handouts?”
“Hummm. I’m not sure I’ll go that far. But I was thinking of talking to Amanda Plover about working in her stables.”
Midge’s brown eyes sparked—though she held back her real response. “You really mean that?”
“Why not? Nothing says I have to stay glued to my cousin’s ass all my life, is there?”
“I suppose not.”
“What’s the matter?” Cissy asked sensing that she wasn’t getting the whole truth.
“Nothing. It could be fun working together, but you know, Amanda’s not very easy to work for.”
“I really don’t care. Jake’s not easy to live with. It certainly would be better than being stuck in that damned newspaper office all day.”
“You know, you may think Jake is such a prick, but there are a lot of women in this county who would love to have him.”
“I know, you keep saying that. He may be a hunk in pair of blue jeans, but behind that handsome exterior and suntanned flesh is a real bastard!”
Midge chuckled—though she was worried. Being friends with Cissy Riverton wasn’t so tough, but working together? And around the best looking man to hit the county since Jake Colton was born—no, she wasn’t so sure she wanted her best friend complicating her plans to snag Birch Valley Stables’ new trainer, Hank Devlin. Midge was an attractive woman with a trim waist, billowing breasts, and a generous behind all packaged into a sensuous and alluring body. There were no eyes in the county as sweet as hers. But Midge was basically shy. She’d always taken a backseat to her more aggressive friend, and this was one time that she didn’t want to come up short!
***
Jake sat back in his chair, feet on the desk, staring absently out the window of the newspaper office seeing a rare sight indeed. There she was… hadn’t seen anything quite as pretty as Amanda Plover packed into a pair of blue jeans. She’d swept her blond hair into a pony tail, leaving a few bangs flying; though all the rest about her was curt and to the point from her polished boots, to those sexy jeans, to her clean, white cotton tee.
As she strode into the White Birch Review, she had a point to make, throwing the last Review edition on Jake’s desk, her lips pursed, her blue eyes glaring. She didn’t wear a speck of makeup, she didn’t need to—beauty like hers came from the natural blush on her suntanned cheeks, a pair of eyes as wide open as a meadow, and the classic line of her jaw, cut like the Western mountains.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing!” she snapped.
“Ooo, my, are we miffed?” Jake snickered amusedly. Damn, it was chauvinist to think so, but women sure looked good to him when they were all exorcised as though they would spit—he actually hoped she’d try that—give him good reason to work over that lovely ass.
“Sheeeseh! Jake Colton. Don’t you think what you print might just have one tiny bit of impact on real life?”
He swung his feet around and sat up straight. “Of course, it does. It’s supposed to. That’s why I keep the public informed.”
“And it doesn’t matter that you’ve invested money in Birch Valley Stables… you’re printing this?”
He stared at the opinion column, “Sure, that stuff is not easy to print—considering that I’m a prime investor in your stables. But those are opinions. When I started this rag, I told my readers that I support a free press and free speech. I gave the county a right to say what they want in my newspaper, and I wouldn’t edit it. I live up to my word.”
“So you print slander about the stables?”
“Is it slander? Or is there some mismanagement going on?”
“You vile beast! You know I’ve put my heart and soul into that stable and that it’s running well.”
“But does it turn a profit?”
“It could, if people like you would back off. It’s because I’m a woman in a man’s world… these old farts around here resent that.”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so, Amanda. I think this has everything to do with results. Your track record stinks.”
“And what do you really know about that?”
“All I need. The profit and loss speaks for itself.”
“You actually read it as if you understand it?”
“I’m a Harvard man, remember.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
They both did.
Amanda Plover had attended Brown University the four years after Jake Colton graduated from Harvard. Two Ivy Leaguers in one tiny Western town was pretty strange. Stranger still why either of them insisted on returning to White Birch. But since they had—and for reasons neither one could fathom—everyone they knew automatically put them together—the kids with the fancy educations, as though that made them suited for more than the snappish conversations they were engaged in now. When Jake left for college, Amanda was just fourteen and a kid in his eyes—just as she’d been all his life. Although she was nearly four years older than his cousin, Cissy, and her friend Midge, he lumped Amanda Plover into the same kid category. She was still in braces and pigtails, awkwardly trying to grow into the body of a woman. She certainly hadn’t yet filled out as pleasantly as she was now.
Ten years later, after Amanda returned to White Birch from Brown and two years of graduate school, she was quite the woman. Jake had the usual response to any gorgeous creature who crossed his path—as did every man who laid eyes on her; but Amanda Plover was cold as an ice cube on a winter day—enough to shrivel any man’s dick. If she had a boyfriend, he certainly wasn’t from the area. Though, it was rumored that she’d been pretty steamy with a shipping magnate in Boston, talk of that died down quickly. Seems Amanda was mostly interested in resurrecting her family’s stables. She was an expert horse trainer—could take a stallion from the wild and tame it gently into a good riding animal. To get the stables going, she had obligingly taken some serious investment capital from local sources to add to what was left of her family inheritance. No one even pondered the possibility that she might fail considering her skill with horses, four-star education, and obvious determination. Turning a profit, however, was something Amanda had yet to do in the three years since she began the venture. Now, things were just a little dicey about the county when it came to the subject of Birch Valley Stables.
“You have any idea what kind of speculation you fuel with articles like this!” Amanda spat out. “I want it to stop!”
“My, aren’t we getting a little too big for our britches.”
“I’m only pointing out how foolish you’re being, Jake Colton.”
“Really? Well, I sure as hell don’t need you to tell me how to run my paper,” he leveled her with a sharp stare. “I’m doing a far sight better with my brainchild than you are with your stables.”
“You, you….” She stopped, her words tangling in her throat.
“And let’s get one thing straight, Miss Smarty Britches, you come into my paper again with so much spit and sass, I’ll take you right over my knee and paddle the daylights out of that fine ass.”
“You will not!”
“Want to try me because I’ll do it right now.”
“You lay a hand on me …”
He looked damned smug.
“Try all you want, Amanda. In this county things run pretty much the way they’ve run for the last hundred years. If a man takes a woman over his lap and spanks her, he’ll usually get a crowd to cheer. So, don’t try your politically correct, feminist Eastern hoity-toity bullshit on me. It won’t work in Birch County; it won’t work in White Birch; and it won’t work with me.”
Amanda was too stunned to speak. Having said his piece, Jack rose from his chair, brusquely brushed
past Amanda, and proceeded toward the door, opening it in a mockingly gracious gesture, “If you don’t mind, I think you’ve worn out your welcome, Ms. Plover. I’m sure your time can be better put to use figuring out how you’re going to keep the bill collectors from knocking down your door. As for me, I have a lot of work to do.”
There was no telling the rage burning in Amanda Plover’s gut since she’d been rendered utterly speechless by Jake’s barrage of words, but it was certain that with one more comment she might just do something stupid. Not that foolish, the fair-haired beauty grit her teeth, clenched her fists, and stormed from the office.
Jake, utterly pleased with himself, returned to his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and staring out the window, took a deep breath of the good old country air. He thought it was about time for his afternoon nap.
***
Returning to Birch Valley Stables, Amanda Plover roared into the yard, halted the Jeep with a jerk, and jumped out, slamming the door; seconds later exploding into the stables like a thunderstorm, barking orders.
“Get this shit cleaned up now!” she shouted to whoever might hear her. “Doesn’t anyone do any work around here but me?” Midge McKenna and Cissy Riverton were brushing down the horses when they heard their fuming boss and popped their heads out to look.
“Something wrong?” Midge asked meekly.
“Yeah, something’s very wrong. I’m ready to take a shotgun to a certain newspaperman.” She looked past Midge, aiming her glaring eyes at Cissy. “Your fucking cousin better watch his step. He doesn’t know what angry is until he’s seen me on the warpath.”
Cissy gave her an “I didn’t do anything” shrug of her shoulders, to which Amanda only glared harder. Then, turning on the heels of her now dusty boots, she clomped into the stable office accompanied by the sound of papers, pens and god knows what else, flying everywhere.
“She always get like this when she’s mad?” Cissy whispered.
“Sort of. But I’ve never seen her quite so hot,” Midge whispered back.
“I certainly don’t need my cousin screwing things up here.”
“Aw, she’ll cool down.”
“Maybe she’ll cool and maybe she won’t,” they heard a voice behind them and both stopped and turned around. “Quit your jabbering and get back to work. She has a point.”
Midge instantly blushed seeing Hank Devlin target her with the comment. There was a sort of wicked light in his eyes. What a handsome hunk! All brawn and muscle, six feet three in his stocking feet; with a lock of sand-colored hair kept falling across his eyes, no matter how often he pushed it back. He was the devil with a sheepish smirk, but behind his self-effacing manner was pure steel. Um, hummm, just to look at him made Midge’s pussy clench and her panties wet. She loved it when he spoke with a little authority in his voice. She’d take orders from him all day. And if she were guessing right, Hank was finally reading her teasing glances for what they were. It had taken a few days of deliberate ploys to get him to really notice her; but once he had, she was sure that eventually she’d get the first date she’d been pining for since he came to Birch Valley Stables several months before.
“Damn! He is hot!” Cissy whispered as she followed the cheeks of Hank’s tight ass as they walked out the stable’s back door.
“Yeah, he is,” Midge agreed.
This was a tough one to read for Midge. She was seriously afraid that Cissy would go after the guy. While most girls could ward off the competing advances of a best friend, it didn’t work that way with Cissy Riverton. If Midge made her feelings known about Hank, that would only double the redhead’s efforts to nab him. Even if Cissy’s schemes were unintentional ones, she’d managed to go after every guy Midge had wanted since they were fifteen. Though she hadn’t been successful with most of her attempted conquests, she had screwed with Midge’s love life too many times to count. And she wouldn’t now! As long as Midge had anything to say about it. Unfortunately, seeing Cissy’s eyes go straight for that cute behind, she was immediately worried.
“I thought you were dating Garth?” she asked.
“Oh, I am, but you know… it’s nothing serious. I can always keep looking.”
“Well, if you want the guy, I mean Garth, you should stick with him. He’s pretty special and he’s very interested in you. Of course, if you don’t want him, I could always…”
“Like hell you will! He’s mine!” Cissy snapped. “I’d never do that do a friend.”
Sure, Midge thought, though she didn’t say a word. Even with them pointed out, Cissy refused to see her flaws, obvious or otherwise.
“I thought I told you two to get this place cleaned up,” Amanda was unexpectedly on them, “I can’t afford to pay you wages if all you do is gab.”
“Sorry,” Midge said and she went back to work.
Amanda strode out of the stable hardly more pacified than when she went in.
“Bitch!” Cissy seethed under her breath. “I can see why you hate her.”
“Shush!”
Cissy scowled and finally returned to work.
***
Midge came in early every day she could peel herself from bed by six o’clock. She figured being the early bird would only help her chances with Hank—since he was always in the stables by seven, usually by six, and Cissy never showed up until eight—and then, she often came wandering in just a few minutes late. Working in the stable, everyone was too busy to notice.
At seven every morning for a week, Midge met Hank in the ranch house kitchen where they shared a donut and coffee before they went to work. They traveled a lot of territory in their early morning conversations, covering all the details new friends share until all the basics are pretty much out of the way. Midge was fast moving to the second step of their relationship, tiptoeing around more personal subjects, like girlfriends, and opinions on love and life and aspirations. Hank was a great talker and pretty open for a guy. Though he didn’t make any bones of his cowboy nature. “I’m probably the last of a dying breed when it comes to women,” he told her.
“And that means?” Midge asked curiously.
“Old-fashioned.”
“How’s that? There are lots of old-fashioned guys around here, could mean all kinds of things.”
“Well…” he paused to think. He was never the type to jump right in, and Midge liked that kind of thoughtfulness. They were sitting on the ranch house porch finishing their coffee, staring out at the paddocks and stables, hearing the sound of their charges calling to them—though Hank had already fed the animals earlier that morning. “I guess it means that I’m a real man, not some meek little kitten who lets his woman lead him around. I couldn’t take that—in fact, I won’t. Truth is, I like the idea of being in charge….”
“And women submitting?” Midge jumped in when he hesitated to finish the thought.
“Yeah, submitting, that’s a good word, even though few women want it spoken anywhere near them. I’m surprised you said it.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Really?” he looked interested in her reply, enough to view the pretty brunette with a little more respect. “You’re saying you’re not some ball-busting bitch?” He looked toward Amanda Plover who’d just rode in from her morning ride, as if to suggest she was the prime example of ball-busting bitch.
“Ooo, never. My daddy would have whupped me pretty good if I had shown signs of that. Bred that headstrong steak right out of me,” she smiled demurely—speaking only half the truth. She was known to be as manipulative and stubborn as her best friend; just in her own way.
He raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed.
“And when you’re grown up?”
“Oh, I imagine if I gave him cause even now, he’d paddle my behind.”
“Would he, now?” The edge of his lip drew into a sexy snicker. “So, you’d take that kind of treatment from a boyfriend?”
Her face broke into a rosy blush of embarrassment, “I might,” she conceded.
“How novel,” he remarked, though his further interest in the topic was abruptly cut short as Amanda called the trainer from the stable. “Are you planning to work or snooze today?”
“I’m on my way, boss,” he said jumping up. “You’d better get going, too,” he reminded Midge. Just as the two were getting up, Cissy’s truck pulled into the yard, her eyes immediately noting the cozy pair walking from the ranch house toward the stables. Midge was smiling broadly until she glanced at the odd look on Cissy’s face. There wasn’t a word said between them other than a hasty, hi, as they headed to separate buildings for the morning
***
Hank and Amanda sat across the desk inside the stable office going over ledger sheets, performance reviews, and evaluations of individual horses.
“I need to make these figures look a little better,” she announced with an exasperated sigh.
“Give me an evening with them, I can make them look a whole lot better,” he replied, a little light-hearted chortle in his voice.
“I’m sure you could,” she came back wryly. “But I am serious.” She stared down thoughtfully. “What about those two, Midge and Cissy. Are they even worth my time?”
“You need to get the job done, that’s a given. Whether it’s those two you keep on, I can’t say.” He thought a minute. “But don’t worry, I’ll make them worth your time or blow them out.”
“Good.”
“And the new mare you purchased? You sure that was wise?”
“Positive. I know good horses. She’s prime.”
“I need a few more prime animals around here.”
“Don’t look so somber. The world is not coming to an end.”
“Maybe yours isn’t.”
“Never thought you were a fatalist.”’
“I’m usually not…” she brooded, then shook her head. “Things are just getting to me.” She wouldn’t say what—like Jake Colton to be exact. Something about that conversation of a week ago she couldn’t shake. She’d never met a man who had the balls to speak to her the way he did. Was it admiration she was feeling? She was forcing back her feelings about that clash, afraid to really look and see what was there.
Birches, Cowgirls & Angels Page 2