Love on the Free Side

by Mariah Ankenman

  “I’m sure it’s not as fancy as what you have in New York, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  Tony looked around the ranch house kitchen. Outdated, but solid appliances filled out the room. A large fridge with a small top freezer stood in a corner. The sink had three basins, a feature which would come in handy during cleaning time. The only new looking equipment in the room was the stove, a stainless steel, five burner, dual oven beauty. His hands itched to make a meal just looking at it.

  “My last chef insisted on a new stove before taking the job. Lousy, job-deserting jerk.” She muttered the last part under breath, but he heard it.

  Suppressing a smile, he nodded. “A smart requirement. Cooking for multiple people requires a versatile stove.”

  “I also have a deep freezer in the basement. The dinky one on the fridge won’t hold much, and I ordered a lot of meat.”

  There were a few cattle ranches in the area, so he’d bet she got a good price. A deep freeze would prolong the life of the meat. Fresh was always better, but with the right ingredients and a decent chef—not to toot his own horn, but he was far above decent—most people couldn’t tell the difference.

  “This will work perfectly, bonita.”

  Her eyes frosted over. “I told you. Don’t call me that.”

  The endearment slipped out. He hadn’t meant to call her by the pet name he used so many years ago. “My apologies.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, she placed her hands on her hips. “Look, if this is going to work, we need some ground rules.”

  “Ground rules?”

  “Yeah.”

  He waited as she gathered her thoughts.

  “While we are working together, you need to call me Jamie. And no bringing up the past, especially when the other staff arrives. Technically, I’m your boss for the time being, and I don’t want any…rumors to start spreading.”

  Were they considered rumors if they were true? He thought it best not to ask. With her current mood, he might get a horseshoe to the face. “I can do that…Jamie.”

  Her eyes narrowed, testing his words as if to find a lie in them. Damn, did the woman have zero faith in him? She once had nothing but trust for him.

  That was a long time ago. Another lifetime.

  Finally, she nodded, her gaze traveling back to the room they stood in. “The kitchen might need a little cleaning—”

  “From what I can see, the entire ranch needs a good wash down. Or a can of kerosene and a lit match.” He said the last part under his breath, but judging by the scowl on her face, she heard. It would do him well to remember Jamie had ears like a bat.

  “It’s not that bad. The place is just…in a need of a little TLC.”

  The busted up fence he’d spied on his way inside would beg to differ. “Gonna take a lot of work to get this place ready in…when did you say people were arriving?”

  “I didn’t. The staff starts arriving in a week, and the first round of campers in two.” She turned around the room, eyes filling with panic even as she added, “I can get it all done in time.”

  Sure, if she worked round the clock forgoing food, bathing, and sleep.

  “I can handle the outdoor fixes if you want to clean up the inside.”

  Fire replaced panic, her gaze zeroing back onto him. “I don’t need your help.”

  Yeah she did, but she would never admit it. Stubborn woman. At least something about Jamie hadn’t changed.

  “I have no doubts you could handle it all yourself, but I’m here, and technically in your employ, so why not use me?”

  Soft brown eyes heated at the last phrase. His heart jumped up into his throat. After all these years could the fire still be there? He knew he sure as hell wanted her again, never stopped to be honest. The small tastes of Jamie Thompson he had all those years ago still kept him up at night. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than to fully claim the girl he cared so much for.

  A strange thing to feel immense regret and pride for a single moment. The night she’d offered herself to him had been seared into his mind like cattle brand. It’d killed a piece of his soul to turn down the one thing in life he wanted more than anything else, but what kind of bastard would it have made him to bed her then break up with her? Even if it was for her own good.

  “I guess you have a point, but I don’t want your work here to interfere with your uncle’s recovery. If you need to take off to tend to him, let me know. Your schedule isn’t set until the staff arrives, so you can come and go as you please.”

  She headed out of the kitchen toward the front of the house. He followed, trying to keep his gaze off the sweet sway of her ass in those tight jeans. Truthfully, he wasn’t trying all that hard. Damn things looked as if they’d been painted on.

  “There’s a bunch of tools and stuff in the shed behind the barn. If you need any other supplies let me know. I know the place needs some work, but the bones are still good.”

  She started to head down the hallway, but he reached out, placing a hand to her wrist. Sparks of electricity shot through his fingertips where he touched her soft skin, racing through every inch of his body. Mierda, the woman still affected him.

  “This place is amazing, Jamie. And so are you.”

  Her mouth dropped, eyes widening. He could see a million thoughts going on in that smart as hell brain of hers. After a moment of stunned silence, she simply nodded and turned down the hall into the back of the house.

  They were in a tricky situation, for damn sure. He had no idea what to do with all these…feelings that were cropping up around this woman.

  The girl he remembered was gone, but he still caught glimpses of her every now and then. He missed her, but he had to admit, the woman who just walked away intrigued the hell out of him. He wouldn’t mind getting to know her a bit better. Anger still burned from her eyes, but he’d spied the heat, too. Could they possibly pick up where they left off seven years ago? Or perhaps they could start again, something fresh. Not continuing the old, but building something new.

  Why the hell not? They were both adults. Both single. At least he thought. No one had mentioned anything about Jamie having a man, and Peak Town was notorious for not respecting its townsfolks’ privacy. If Jamie were involved, surely someone would know about it.

  He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t here to rekindle an old flame. The sole reason he came back was to help his uncle, and then he got roped into helping Jamie. After the way he broke things off, he doubted she’d give him the time of day let alone a second chance.

  Chapter 8

  Jamie unwrapped her third—okay fourth—candy bar. So she was stress eating, big deal. She had a lot to be stressed about right now. The goal she worked so hard for was within her grasp, but obstacles kept piling up. She knew the place needed a bit of work but hadn’t realized the extent until Tony pointed it out.

  Tony.

  A solution and problem all rolled into one frustratingly sexy package.

  How could Maggie do this to her? She thought the woman was her friend. Sure, she’d never explicitly told anyone how bad Tony hurt her when he broke up with her, but she thought it’d be fairly obvious when she stayed as far away from town as possible for so many years. Couldn’t her ex-boss have found anyone else to help her with her chef problem?

  No, because this is Peak Town, and we don’t have a plethora of options when it comes to out of work cooks.

  Accepting her cruddy fate, she slumped in her chair, a sigh escaping around the bits of chocolate, nuts, caramel, and nougat in her mouth. The hazard of a small town—beggars couldn’t be choosers. The close-knit community made up for the lack of resources, most days.

  A tiny voice in her head told her to suck it up. She could do a lot worse than a nationally recognized chef with pages of five star reviews from the top food critics in the country. She really needed to put her big girl panties on and stop whining.

  “But I don’t want tooooo,” she moaned to her half-eaten c
andy bar. She wanted to wallow in the suck that was currently her day. “Of all the equine therapy ranches in all the world, why’d he have to end up at mine?”

  Okay, it was officially time to put down the chocolate. When she started likening her situation to her favorite old movies, she’d obviously had enough sugar. If she didn’t have a business to get off the ground—and it wasn’t three o’clock in the afternoon—she’d indulge herself in a big glass of wine.

  Jamie glanced out the window of her office. The room had a clear view of the property, one of the reasons she had picked it. Currently, she could see the barn and paddocks, which stood empty, but would soon hold half a dozen beautiful Appaloosas, Calicos, and other breeds. The bunkhouse lay right beyond the barn. It needed a good sweep and mop, but the roof and foundation were strong, and all the bunks for the former ranch hands had been left by Mrs. Dunn. New bedding had been ordered and would arrive before her first round of campers.

  She let her gaze travel over the grounds until it stopped on Tony as he inspected an axe currently wedged into a gigantic tree stump near the front of the house. Darn thing was stuck good and tight. She’d tried for hours yesterday to get the sharp cutting tool loose, but every time she pulled, she’d fallen right on her backside. He circled the stump, eyeing the blade jammed in the wood.

  “Good luck, Chef.” She chuckled to herself. “I’d like to see you try and pull that sucker out.” He’d probably fall on his butt, too. At least then she’d have something to laugh about.

  Good humor returned as she watched him reach out and grasp the worn wooden handle. She chuckled with anticipation, the tiny vengeful part of her waiting for him to land on his backside. The man gave a good tug, but the axe didn’t budge an inch. His brow furrowed, lips moving in what she’d bet dollars to doughnuts was a very strong swear. Releasing the axe, he shook out his hands, bringing them up to his face for inspection.

  Oh shoot. She hadn’t wanted him to actually get hurt. By the looks of it, he’d been the recipient of some very nasty splinters from the old and weather worn axe. Who knew how long it had been out there and in what kind of storms. She’d worn heavy riding gloves when trying to unstick the chopping tool because she’d seen the splintered shards of wood sticking off the handle.

  How could Tony have missed them?

  Shame turned her stomach for her earlier glee at wanting to see him fall on his butt. Reaching into her desk drawer, she grabbed the small first aid kit and rose, intending to see to his wounded hands and assuage some of her guilt.

  As she stood, she glanced out the window in time to see Tony drop his hands and grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. Her mouth dropped, jaw proverbially hitting the floor.

  “Holy crap!” Jamie didn’t swear often, unless the occasion truly called for it. “Sweet mother of six pack.” This occasion definitely called for it.

  Tony wrapped his shirt around the axe handle and gripped again, pulling hard. An ingenious solution to his lack of gloves, but she couldn’t be impressed with his ingenuity at the moment. The only thing impressing her right now were those delicious abs, biceps, and pecks.

  Holy moly Tony got ripped!

  He had always been an attractive guy, but when she met him, he was just leaving his teen years behind and entering adulthood. Looked like Antonio Ortiz crashed right through adulthood into yowza town. Who knew the guy hid such an impressive physique under his clothes?

  After a minute or two of furious tugging and pulling—muscles flexing, body perspiring with extended effort—the axe came free. Tony slipped back a step, but did not fall, because of course he didn’t. She couldn’t even be mad about it. Jamie was too busy ogling every yummy inch of rich tanned skin her eyes could feast on.

  His chest heaved in and out, and she discovered hers doing the same. Had the temperature risen fifty degrees in the office? Because she was sweating like a sinner on Sunday.

  Tony unwrapped his shirt, tossing the axe to the ground then started toward the house. Realizing she still stood there like an idiot, first aid kit in hand, staring out the window with her tongue practically on the floor, she quickly pulled herself together. Spinning around, she collapsed back into her chair, taking a few deep, calming breaths.

  “Jamie?”

  She let the deep timbre of his lightly accented voice wash over her, releasing so many tempting memories. “In here.” Her voice came out squeaky and hoarse, so she cleared her throat and called again. “In here.” Much better.

  He appeared in her doorway, shirt on thank goodness—as much as she’d loved the little show she’d peeped on, she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle shirtless Tony up close. Scratch that, she’d very much love to handle shirtless Tony; she just shouldn’t.

  “I took a look around the property. Things are holding up pretty good. You’re right, it mostly needs a good scrub and polish job.”

  Told you, ya big sexy jackass.

  “I did notice a stretch of fence that needs some mending. A few coats of paint here and there would make this place really shine, but it’s not necessary for your opening I think.”

  “I agree. I would like to redo a lot of the ranch eventually, but at the moment, I’m simply concerned with giving our patients the best possible care. The prettying up can happen later when I have more time.” And money. Starting a business really scraped your pockets bare.

  He inclined his head, and she tried not to preen at his agreement. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She did not need his approval. But it did make her feel good to know, from another entrepreneur, that her business sense was on point.

  “What’s that for?” He pointed to the box on her desk.

  “What?” She glanced down, picking up the small white container. “Oh. I saw you out there with the, um, axe. I tried to get it out the other day, but, well, you know how tight it was wedged in there. Um, I, ah, saw you grab the handle. I’m sorry. I should have given you some gloves. That thing has some wicked splinters. A-anyway, I thought you might need some of, um, I mean, I’m sure you got some splinters in your hands, and I just wanted to help—”

  Tony chuckled at her ramblings. Darn him. He knew she had verbal diarrhea when she got flustered. An old habit she thought she’d broken, but apparently being home again, spending time around this man, brought the old tic back. And based on the heat burning her cheeks, she’d bet she was blushing like a schoolgirl, too.

  Perfect, just perfect.

  “I did get some splinters, and yes, I would love some help, but do not feel sorry, bonita—my apologies—Jamie. I pulled on the axe without thinking of the aged wood. It was my mistake. My fault.”

  She let the nickname slide because she felt bad about him being hurt, and also because that familiar thrill shot through her body at the sound of the endearment on his lips. Warmth now rushed to different places, lower places.

  Shaking her head, she indicated to the chair in front of her desk. “Sit and let me have a look.”

  He sat, pulling the chair closer so he could place his hands on the desk in front of her. She leaned over, opening the first aid kit with one hand while examining his palms.

  “Ouch, that looks painful.” Four large splinters in his left hand and three in the right. A few lodged fairly deep.

  Broad shoulders shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

  Leaning back, she raised one eyebrow. “Oh really, tough guy?”

  “See this pinky.” He held up his left hand, turning it so she could see the back. “Once I was chopping and not paying attention. My knife slipped, and I cut the tip clean off.”

  “Oh my goodness!” Horrified at the image, she instinctively grabbed her own pinky.

  “Thankfully, I rushed to the ER where they sewed it back on. See? You can barely see the scar.”

  A small, faint, white line bisected his top knuckle at an angle. After chopping off a finger, she supposed a few splinters were nothing.

  “Okay Edward Scissorhands, but you still need to let me get th
ose splinters out and disinfect your wounds.”

  He chuckled again, the sound running along her nerves, sparking desire to pool low in her belly, making her feel things she vowed never to feel again. Uncomfortable for a whole host of reasons, she diverted her attention from him to grab tweezers and the alcohol from the kit.

  “Place your hands back on the desk please, palms up.”

  He did as she asked, not flinching a muscle as she dug in with the sharp metal instrument. The first few came out easy, but a few of the wooden shards were jammed in deep. She had to grasp his hand in her own and pull it closer to get the proper angle. As she squeezed, willing those pesky splinters to behave, she tried desperately not to notice the zing that ran across her skin at touching Tony again. His hands were rough from years of hard labor, scarred with marks from both ranch and kitchen work. Hands she vividly remembered taking her body to dizzying heights she’d never experienced before.

  Or since, dang it.

  Much as she tried, no man had ever made her body tense and explode the way Tony had. They’d never gone…all the way, but two people could do a lot without actually having sex. He had learned the intricacies of her body with these amazing hands, and he’d played her like a fiddle. No one since had ever made her quiver with such need as Tony. Even when she was alone in the quiet darkness of night, she couldn’t reproduce the effects he had on her body.

  This is so freaking unfair!

  “Ouch!”

  He’d cried out when she dug in deeper than necessary.

  “I’m sorry. This one’s in pretty deep.” And I’m going to be in deep trouble if you stay here, so I need to get you gone fast. “There,” she said as she pulled the last of the wood from his flesh. “All done. Let me disinfect it and you’re good as new.”