Winning Over the Cowboy

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  Janice looked up from kneading dough, her apron dusted with flour. “Landry.” She wiped her hands on her apron, scurried over and greeted her with a hug. “How nice to have you here.”

  Elliot’s smile awakened the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “It’ll be a relief to have another chef to share kitchen duty with.”

  “Oh, dear.” Janice patted at the flour her hug had deposited on Landry’s lapel and only made it worse.

  “It’s okay. It’s washable.” For the first time since her arrival, she felt welcome. “I’m so glad to see y’all.” Her vision blurred with the sudden longing to cry with relief.

  “It’s almost nine o’clock.” Janice went back to her dough. “When did you get here?”

  “About five.” Chase answered for her. “Y’all were gone to evening Bible study by the time we finished with William.”

  Landry stifled a yawn. “Chase has been showing me around, getting me familiar with operations.”

  “You must be exhausted.” Janice frowned. “Get her settled in, son.”

  “But shouldn’t we go over the kitchen schedule?” Chase settled on a stool at the breakfast bar, his long legs still reaching the floor.

  “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chase stood.

  “Sleep in tomorrow.” Elliot gave her a wink.

  “Don’t mind Chase.” Janice turned the dough. “He never runs out of steam.”

  “Have a good night.” At least his parents were on her side.

  Chase ushered Landry out, handed her a key. “I had Ron put your things in Granny’s room. You know where it is.” He headed for the front door, exited.

  Leaving her standing there, uncertain, clearly unwanted. Did he treat all guests like this? Probably just her. Because she didn’t belong.

  Becca and Ron descended the stairs, laughing together. The Fletchers hadn’t changed. Becca with her long brown hair, painfully thin frame and kind blue eyes. Ron was still thick and stocky—the same height as his wife, ruddy complexion and thunderous voice.

  “Landry!” he boomed.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back.” Becca clasped both her hands.

  “Thanks.”

  “We were just leaving. But since you’re here—”

  “Y’all go. I was headed to my quarters myself. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

  “See you then.” Becca gave her a quick hug, then linked fingers with her husband and exited.

  Two more allies. With Chase’s chill toward her and quiet wariness from the rest of the employees—food preps, waitstaff, cleaning personnel, ranch hands—she felt like a definite outsider. They probably saw her as an intruder just like Chase did. Possibly worried about their jobs with so much change.

  Landry crossed the foyer, cut through the great room and unlocked the door to Granny’s private quarters.

  The entire dude ranch was constructed with exposed massive beams, rock work and wood everywhere. Log furnishings, nail heads, leather, cowhide and deer antler chandeliers. But Granny’s quarters had drywall and were filled with Victorian rose fabrics, lace and white wicker. A sanctuary.

  Landry perched on the end of the bed and closed her eyes. After all the guests were settled, she and Eden used to spend hours in this room. Still in college, they’d shared their hopes and dreams with Granny, giggled over guys, tried on new makeup and hair tips. Had it really been seven years ago? Seemed like yesterday. It was here that Landry’s dream was born. To own a dude ranch someday.

  Last fall when she’d visited, Granny had been gone. Eden had lived in these quarters then and had tried to put Landry back together after Kyle had dumped her. All in the midst of getting ready for her own wedding.

  Landry had never imagined it would be the last time she’d see her best friend. Never imagined she’d end up as part owner here. Without Granny. Without Eden. But with Chase.

  A chorus of crickets, owls and frogs echoed outside. It was too quiet in this huge house. Even with Janice and Elliot, a few of the staff and several guests, Landry felt alone.

  But tomorrow they’d be hopping, according to the schedule. Staying busy would keep her mind off missing Eden. Missing Granny. Missing what her life was supposed to be.

  She strolled to the window. The light from Chase’s cabin glowed in the distance. Such a peaceful night. But she’d never sleep.

  Maybe fresh air would clear her mind. Stop it from spinning. She crossed the great room and the foyer, then stepped out.

  Into a solid wall. “Oomph.”

  “Whoa.” Chase’s strong hands on her shoulders steadied her. “Watch where you’re going.”

  A nervous giggle tangled in her throat. “I would if I could. But I can’t see a thing.”

  “Ever heard of a flashlight?”

  “I thought you left for your cabin. What are you doing lurking on the front porch?”

  “I own this front porch. Half of it, anyway.” The challenge echoed in his tone. “I was just trying to relax in the swing, heard somebody moving about, thought it was Mom and Dad.”

  “Oh.” She hugged herself. “I just needed some air.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.” The porch creaked with his heavy footfalls as he strode away from her. She heard the crunch of gravel and after that...silence.

  Slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she made her way to the porch swing, settling in the already warm middle part of the cushion. So he’d told the truth. He hadn’t been lurking. Yet she got the distinct impression Chase Donovan didn’t trust her.

  But he needed her. And tomorrow, she’d just have to show him how indispensable she truly was.

  * * *

  Chase stopped on the porch and steeled himself, then opened the door to the ranch house.

  Landry greeted him from the check-in counter with a bright smile, framed by the huge metal Lone Star on the wall behind her.

  He’d half expected her to sleep in her first morning here. But here she was. She’d fastened her hair up into a high ponytail with the sides swooped low, covering her ears.

  “Morning.” He tipped his hat.

  “Good morning. What’s on the agenda today? I mean—other than three families arriving with numerous kids in tow.”

  So she’d studied the reservations for the day. “There’s a drip under the sink in the Rest a Spell Room—and the toilet flushes slow in the Trail Boss Room. Don’t guess you know anything about plumbing.”

  “I know a coupling from an elbow.”

  “Really?” His voice and eyebrows kicked up a notch. “Want to be my plumber’s helper?”

  “Sure.” She scurried out from behind the counter as if this was the highlight of her day. Wearing jeans, a casual purple blouse, tennis shoes. At least she was dressed more appropriately for work on a ranch than she had been yesterday.

  Was she trying to impress him? Win him over? Don’t hold your breath, sweetheart.

  He strolled through the office to the maintenance closet, grabbed his plumbing box, turned and almost crashed into her.

  “Oh, sorry.” She reached for the box. “Need anything else out of there? I can carry something.”

  So eager to please. “I’ve got it.”

  She turned away, crossed the office and headed for the stairs.

  “It’s the third room on the—”

  “I remember.”

  He followed her up the stairs in silence, their footfalls echoing. He hadn’t figured out just how yet, but someway, he’d send Landry Malone screaming all the way back to Aubrey, Texas. By the end of the week. If not sooner.

  At the top, she headed straight to the Rest a Spell Room, unlocked the door, held it open for him.

  “This room was always one of my favorites.” She spun a c
ircle in the middle of the space, scanning the barn wood walls and ceiling, then ran her hand over the suede bedspread. “So soothing. Lives up to its name. I stayed here when Ky—I stayed here last fall.”

  When Ky what?

  He slid the barn door open, strolled into the bathroom, set his toolbox down, opened the cabinet under the sink and knelt in front of it with a flashlight.

  “Looks like a simple coupling on the cold.” He ran his finger along the dripping pipe.

  “Do I need to turn the water off?”

  “I can do that here.” He turned, eased onto his back, leaning on his elbows, and stretched his legs out in the cramped space. “Can you hand me that hacksaw and find the smallest coupling?”

  “You mean the half-inch?” She settled on the floor cross-legged with her knee almost touching his, dug the hacksaw out of the plastic toolbox and handed it to him.

  “You know your stuff.” In the three times they’d met, she’d been mostly quiet, maybe even uncomfortable. Because of Eden’s attempts at a fixup?

  Despite his determination to resent her, she kept impressing him. Add to that, she was easy on the eyes with her unruly strawberry blond waves, enormous brown eyes a man could drown in and a smattering of freckles across her perky nose.

  “My parents own a Christian bookstore with a coffee bar. I’ve helped my dad with lots of plumbing over the years.”

  “So you’re a Christian?”

  Silence. Maybe not.

  “I am. But I’ve had a lot going on. Haven’t been to church in a while.” Her gaze dropped to the floor, then bounced back up to his. “You?”

  “He got me through Eden’s death.”

  “Me, too.”

  Maybe they did have something in common. Other than Eden. But he couldn’t let his guard down with her. He lay back and stuck his head under the counter, banging his elbow in the process.

  Heat shot through the length of his arm. “Ouch. That was my funny bone, and I didn’t find it humorous at all.” He clutched his right elbow.

  “Sorry.” Sympathy edged her voice.

  He reached for the coupling, and her fingers grazed his. “Do we have any disinfectant mold killer?”

  “I think I saw some.”

  He slid the hacksaw into the tight space, drew the teeth carefully across the pipe. There was a trickle of water. Then a burst of it spewed everywhere.

  Landry screamed as he fumbled with the shutoff valve got the spray of water back to a trickle, then nothing. He wiped his face and slid out from under the cabinet.

  “You did that on purpose.” She sat in a tight ball with her back to him. In a puddle, hands covering her head, drenched from head to toe.

  “I didn’t.” But he could barely keep the laughter at bay. “We got to talking and I forgot to turn the valve off. Here. Let me help you.” On his knees, he offered his hand.

  Her head popped up, drenched tendrils framed her dripping face. She gave him a steely glare, ignoring his offer. But when she tried to get her feet under her, she slid in the puddle.

  “Let me help you.”

  Another glare, but she clutched his hand. She slipped again, tugging him off balance. They both ended up in the puddle side by side, on their backs and soaking wet. He couldn’t keep from laughing any longer.

  “I know you did that on purpose.” She clambered to her knees. “You want to get rid of me. To get me out of your way.”

  Uh-oh. She was on to him. “I honestly didn’t mean to spray you with water. But you’re right, I can’t say that I really want you around and I don’t understand why Eden left you half of my legacy.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere. For whatever reason, Eden wanted me here.”

  Had that really been his sister’s wish? Or had Landry scammed her into thinking she did? He rolled over, managed to stand.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. I promise.” But maybe he should have. If he made her miserable enough, maybe she’d leave. If she left, surely he and his parents could manage to buy her out.

  “Let me help you up.” He offered his hand.

  Her gaze bored into his. But with little choice, she laid her hand in his.

  Just outside the puddle, he braced his feet and helped her up.

  Her feet slid, but he steadied her with his hands on her waist.

  Standing in the middle of the puddle, eyes intense, she pressed her face close to his. “I. Loved. Her. Too.” Her words came through clenched teeth, as a tear slid down her cheek.

  His gut turned over. If she was an actress, she was a good one. Good enough to take Hollywood by storm. Could she be for real?

  There was a knock on the door, and it quickly swung open as Becca stepped in and spied them in the bathroom. “Oh. I’m on cleaning rounds.”

  “We had a little mishap.” His arms dropped to his sides, then clasped Landry’s fingers in his. “Careful. Don’t slip, now.”

  She tiptoed out of the puddle, then jerked her hand out of his grasp.

  Becca’s wide eyes took in all of it, pinging from one to the other.

  “Don’t worry about this mess. I’ll handle it.” He stepped around the pooling water, grabbed a towel and then mopped up the worst of it.

  “Yes, sir.” Becca exited.

  Landry shivered, then hugged herself. “Thanks to you, I must look like a drowned rat.” She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room.

  A pretty drowned rat. A dangerous one.

  Yet her intensity when she’d claimed to love Eden, too, tugged at him. But he couldn’t just blindly trust a stranger with half of his inheritance at stake.

  As soon as he got a minute, he’d Google her. He should have done it when William first told him about her being in Eden’s will. But he’d been too busy keeping the dude ranch running.

  It was time to check this woman out. If Landry Malone had skeletons in her closet, he’d find them.

  Chapter Two

  Birdsong heralded the bright summer morning. But Chase was all keyed up, despite the peace that always hovered over his grandfather’s old fishing cabin. Three axis deer, two whitetail and dozens of fish looked on from the pine walls. His grandfather’s hunting successes captured for eternity through the art of taxidermy. They always made Chase feel close to Gramps.

  After her dousing, Chase hadn’t seen any more of Landry yesterday. Probably holed up in her quarters, licking her wounds. He could only hope she was packing.

  His stomach knotted in anticipation as he set his coffee mug by his computer and typed in her name.

  The search quickly produced an engagement announcement. He clicked on the newspaper and saw a professional-looking color photo. Landry was all smiles, standing behind a preppy blond man, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

  Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Reginald Billings Sr. announce the engagement of their son, Kyle Reginald Billings Jr., to Ms. Landry Ann Malone.

  Mr. Billings Jr. is the chief operating officer of his family-owned corporation, Data Solutions, based in Dallas. Ms. Malone is a chef at Warren Dude Ranch in Aubrey. Mr. and Mrs. Billings Jr. will reside at their newly purchased Arbor Bed-and-Breakfast in Denton.

  Chase checked the date. Almost a year ago, early September. Only weeks before she came to stay at the dude ranch. Why hadn’t the wedding happened?

  Mr. Billings Jr. was obviously loaded. Had Landry landed him for his money? Was that why the wedding didn’t happen? He’d figured her out and called it off? She apparently hadn’t ended up with the B and B or she wouldn’t have come here.

  Chase backed out of the newspaper link, then clicked on her Facebook page. It took him a few tries to remember the password his sister had used when she set up the dude ranch’s account, but finally he was in, and Landry’s wall soon popped up.
>
  My happily-ever-after is only 1 hour away. With a dozen smiley faces.

  It was her last post—on what should have been her wedding day. Nothing since. He scrolled down.

  My happily-ever-after is only 1 day away.

  He continued to scroll. She’d counted the days from the time of her engagement to her wedding day. Three months—every day interspersed with photos of traditional wedding dresses, flowers, cakes and decorations. Amidst it all, an elegant ultramodern dress completely different than the others with the comment, My dress Kyle chose.

  Countless pictures of simple bouquets of those purple, droopy flowers that grew on vines in trees. An elaborate bouquet: My flowers Kyle chose.

  Dozens of unpretentious two-and three-layer cakes with a bride and groom on top. A fussy cake with a roses spiraled up and around six layers, topped by a bride and groom in a glittery carriage: My wedding cake Kyle chose.

  Looked like Kyle hijacked the wedding. Had Landry bailed because he was too controlling?

  Three months worth of days focused solely on her wedding. Nothing else. Nothing about what she’d had for dinner, or vacation pictures, or “my cat did this or that” posts. Like a giddy bride and not a gold digger.

  Pressure mounted in his chest as he clicked on her photos. He’d never been such a snoop.

  No photos of her fiancé. Or of them together, for that matter. The only other pictures were of rustic dude ranches. With one fancy B and B in the mix. The caption: The Arbor Bed-and-Breakfast Kyle bought.

  He closed the browser, guilt churning his gut. He was basically stalking her online. But with good reason. He had to figure her out. If she was a scam artist, he needed to know. He’d had his fill of those.

  But did scam artists count down the days to their happily-ever-afters? Maybe if they were trying to reel in a rich guy. And right after her wedding-that-wasn’t, she’d landed at the dude ranch. In the Rest a Spell Room.

  What had she said yesterday—she’d stayed there after Ky? Kyle. After Kyle what? His sister had been tight-lipped about the circumstances. Had Landry set a plan in motion to console herself with Chase’s family legacy?