Her mouth opened but she clamped her lips closed before any words were spoken. Charlotte shot him a look, but he knew she felt the same way he did. They’d both seen the mixture of pride and hurt in John’s face when he talked about his only daughter.
Still, he regretted the words as soon as they were out. “I’m sorry. I need to get out to the barn and tend to the mare.”
He stalked out of the room, irritated at himself for not controlling his temper. It’s one thing to think it, another to say it.
At the entrance to the hallway, he turned to take another look at her. Their eyes met for a moment, then he escaped around the corner, before he could do or say anything more he might regret in front of the woman who would be his boss for the next year.
CHAPTER THREE
Beau’s words had stung, but Beth respected the fact that he’d had the courage to speak his mind. She was also surprised to feel a pang of envy at the close relationship he shared with her father. As Beau stalked out of the room, she shivered at the memory of his strong arms supporting her as they struggled up the rain slicked ditch.
Charlotte tucked another towel around Beth’s shoulders. Hopefully the woman would just think she was chilled.
With a deep breath, she made a concerted effort to put the cowboy out of her mind. She couldn’t afford distractions right now. Her future was at stake. She needed to focus.
It didn’t help that she felt like an outsider in her father’s house. He was a stranger to her, little more than a two dimensional figure created from vague memories and stories from her mother. She looked around, curious about her father’s home, then pushed herself to her feet.
Charlotte stayed at her side as she took a step towards the cavernous living room, and waved a hand towards the large stone fireplace. She said, “Your father was an amazin’ man and we’re all missin’ him. You’ll have to forgive Beau. This has been a difficult time for the lot of us.”
Thunder shook the house as Beth nodded. She finally recognized the older woman’s accent as a faint Irish brogue. She glanced at a huge oil painting of her father kneeling on one leg with his arm around a black and white dog that dominated the wall above the mantle. A chandelier made from antlers hung from rough-hewn beams. Definitely masculine, and not a touch of feminine anywhere. She looked down at the hardwood floors and realized that rain water was puddling at her feet.
She motioned towards the polished floor, “I’m so sorry. I seem to be getting everything wet.”
“Quite all right. It’s a gully-washer out there, that’s for sure.” The older woman led her through the living room and the arched
doorway on the left, opposite the hallway where the cowboy had disappeared. “Let’s go find you some dry clothes and a warm bed. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charlotte. Technically, I’m the housekeeper, but I do a little bit of everything. We’re pretty informal around here. I cook, I clean. Whatever needs to be done, I do it.”
Beth glanced up at her father’s portrait, looking for something – anything – familiar. “You must have known my father well, then.”
Beth meant it as a statement, but Charlotte took it as a question. “I did, and I wish to extend my deepest sympathies to you. Your father was a wonderful man, and he will be – I take that back – he is missed deeply. I apologize for not extendin’ my sympathies to you at the funeral. You seemed overwhelmed. Didn’t think you needed to be bothered with an old woman like me.” Charlotte stopped in the third doorway on their left.
“You came to the funeral?” Beth asked, wondering what else she had missed that day. It had been such a blur. Such a shock. The whole thing had been so strange. Had that really been only a month ago?
“Beau and I both did. Your father was like family,” Charlotte motioned for Beth to enter the room first. “You’ve had a long day, so I won’t keep you. You’ll find everything here that you’ll need. Help yourself to anything in the drawers and the closet. Towels are in the linen closet. Extra things like toothpaste and shampoo are under the sink.”
Beth bristled at the family comment. Her father had abandoned her, left her with a bitter woman while he moved here to this beautiful home. She swallowed her anger and looked around. The bedroom was more of a suite, with a sitting area by the bay window. It was larger than most hotel rooms she had stayed in, much larger than the bedroom in her condo in Overland Park. Her gaze settled on the beautiful wrought iron canopy bed that dominated the room.
“Breakfast is at seven. Hope you like bacon, eggs and flapjacks,” Charlotte said as she turned to leave.
“I don’t usually eat breakfast,” Beth knew she’d be missing her usual grande caramel macchiato from Starbucks in the morning. There wouldn’t be any more of those for a while.
A warm smile spread across the older woman’s broad face. “You may want to eat a big breakfast while you’re here. Beau’ll show you around the ranch tomorrow. You’ll be needin’ your strength to keep up with him!”
Charlotte frowned as her gaze settled on the bandage on Beth’s forehead, “That is, if you feel up to it.”
“I’m sure I‘ll be fine.” Beth touched her forehead self-consciously, smoothed the edges of the bandage and wondered how bad she looked. Warmth spread up her cheeks as she thought of spending a day with the cowboy. He certainly would be a change of pace from Quinn. Her heart raced at the thought of being alone with him. “So, Beau is the ranch manager?”
“Yes. He is – was – pretty much your father’s right hand man. That boy can do anything from gentle a young horse to … ”
The memory of Beau’s hand on hers caused her heart to do a little flip. His strong fingers had cupped her elbow reassuringly. He was chivalrous and polite, something she had been missing in her life for years. Most of them would never have stopped to help someone on a deserted road. She had a sudden mental image of Chris Pine in that movie she’d seen with Quinn. That’s who Beau reminded her of … Chris Pine. Oh, those eyes!
She sighed, then shook her head. That bump to her head must have been worse than she thought. Either that, or the whole episode with her fiance – ex-fiance, she reminded herself – had gotten to her more than she wanted to admit.
Charlotte cleared her throat and her thick gray eyebrows crept up towards her halo of gray hair. Beth nodded and smiled uneasily as she realized that she hadn’t been listening to the older woman.
Charlotte voice softened, “Now you just holler if you need anything, I am in the room just kitty-cornered across the hallway.”
The door closed with a click, and Charlotte’s muffled footsteps marked her exit. Finally alone, Beth stared at the closed door for nearly a full minute, just trying to take it all in and convince herself that this was real. This had been her father’s home. She was honestly standing in the – correction, a – guest bedroom at her father’s ranch. Though they had been estranged for years, she was curious about the man. She turned to take a closer look at the room.
The furniture was perfect, an eclectic mix of antique and new. The tall canopy bed was just like she had dreamed of as a little girl. A double-wedding ring quilt and several pillows of different sizes, shapes and all different shades of pink completed the look. Even the dust ruffle and the tulle wound around the canopy frame was pink. Just like she’d always wanted.
And her father had done this for strangers.
She snorted. Her father hadn’t decorated this room. Most likely, he’d never even stepped foot in this room if the living room was any indication of his decorating tastes. Charlotte had probably decorated this room. But for who?
Had the pink room been set up for his mistresses? Ever since her parents had divorced when she was ten, her mother had told her that her father was too busy with his various women to spend time with his daughter.
Regardless of his failings, at least he had given Beth a chance for a fresh start when she needed it most, even if it was too late for them to mend their relationship.
They say women often choose men like their
father. With a wry smile, she realized that was exactly what she had done. Would she ever find a man that could be faithful?
She shook the mental images from her head and began searching through a chest of drawers, surprised to find clothes in several styles and colors, most in her size or close to it. She settled on a pair of gray sweats and a gray T-shirt, glad to be out of her wet clothes. After she washed up and brushed the wild out of her curls, she set the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. The pale pink flannel sheets
were wonderful, soft and comforting as she sank into bed, and drifted off to dreams of scruffy cowboys with sparkling blue eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beth woke with a start, confused and a bit off kilter. Someone knocked on her door. The wooden door creaked as Charlotte poked her head in. Memories flashed through Beth’s mind: the driving rain, the accident, her father’s ranch … and a sexy cowboy.
“Breakfast is ready,” Charlotte said. “The boys have already eaten, but I thought you might want to sleep in a bit.”
“Thanks, but I don’t eat breakfast. I’d like to get my bags. And I need to do something about my car.” Beth pushed herself up on her elbows, sighed heavily and looked around the room for a pad of paper. Starting the morning without a to-do list was throwing a kink in her routine already. “I’m sorry. You’ve been very nice to me, but I really have a ton of things to do.”
Charlotte nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll call Cletus up at the station and ask him to tow your car to ‘is shop and take a look at it. And I’ll take you to town after I finish cleanin’ up from breakfast, so you can get your bags. How does that sound?”
“That’ll work,” Beth replied as she swung her feet over the side of the bed and wiggled her toes in the thick sheepskin rug. She thought for a moment and asked, “This Cletus – is he reputable?”
The housekeeper laughed, “Don’t think I’ve ever heard the term ‘reputable’ connected to that boy, but if you’re asking me if he’ll do you right, he most certainly will. He grew up in these parts and knows better than to try to pull the wool over the eyes of a Jameson!”
“Then I would appreciate it if you would call him,” Beth said as she reached for the white terry robe draped over the foot of the bed. “I’m going to freshen up and then I’ll be down.”
Once she was alone, she swept the gauzy curtains back and took in her first real view of the ranch that she had inherited.
Almost inherited, she reminded herself with a frown. Beau stood at the white wooden fence along the driveway, one booted foot propped on the bottom rail. A beautiful reddish-brown horse with a white blaze down its face stood in front of him, as the man stroked its
neck. The animal’s ears pricked forward, listening intently to the cowboy. The two were sharing a private moment, and it occurred to her that Beau might be talking about her.
But what was he saying? Warning the horse about her arrival? What it felt like to touch her? What she looked like? Or more likely, conspiring about keeping her from getting the ranch.
Her forehead furrowed and she turned away, determined not to care what the ranch manager might or might not be saying about her, to an animal or otherwise. This job would require her full attention and she couldn’t afford to let a man get in the way.
She looked through the big walk-in closet and found a pair of jeans and a plain teal blue t-shirt that would fit. It was better than most of the tshirts that filled the closet, emblazoned with various local feed store names and farm supply store logos. No Chanel logos here. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would go to the trouble of having a cedar-lined closet, and then fill it with stuff like that.
Once satisfied with her choice of clothing, she stepped into the bathroom, hoping a nice, long shower would help her feel better. The hot water ran over her body, and the shower gel filled the steamy air with a rich peach scent. It felt so good, so tempting to hide in this little oasis, but she had to get out and face the day. She wrapped her wet hair in an Egyptian cotton towel, surprised to see that it was monogrammed with a “J” set in a silver diamond. Very classy. Like the high thread-count sheets, the towels were top-drawer.
From what her mother had told her, her father didn’t pay attention to things like Egyptian cotton and thread count. This room had been prepared for a woman – though the main living area of the house had been very masculine, this room had definitely felt a woman’s touch. The mere thought of her father’s affairs made her temper flare. No wonder he hadn’t had time to visit his daughter. All his time was spent on this stupid ranch with a parade of women.
A frown creased her forehead as she explored the cabinets, surprised to find a variety of makeup and toiletries. After she had made use of them, and was satisfied that she was presentable, she decided she could put it off no longer. Running the ranch was like running a
business, and she knew how to do that. It was time to get the ball rolling.
She found her way to the kitchen, determined to make a better impression this morning than she had last night. If she had any hope of succeeding at running this place, she would need to earn the employees’ respect – and needed them on her side. Her father had done his best to make that impossible, by pitting her against the one man who could make or break her.
Before she turned the corner, the sound of a woman humming greeted her. She smiled as she recognized it as a Blake Shelton tune. The huge kitchen table would easily sit at least a dozen people. A beautiful crocheted lace doily runner ran the length of the table, topped with a large stoneware crock filled with a rainbow of cut flowers.
The housekeeper was alone. Beth suppressed a twinge of disappointment when she realized that she had been hoping Beau would be there. Her chin jutted forward and she entered the room briskly, determined to make the best of the situation she’d been thrust into.
“Wow!” she exclaimed as she ran her hand over the wood, worn smooth with years of use, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kitchen table this big before!”
“Your father was fond of havin’ meals here. Lots of good food and good company, he used to say.” Charlotte wiped her hands on the dish towel and untied her apron. “Can I talk you into some breakfast now, child?”
Good food and good company that she hadn’t been included in. Beth squashed the pang of jealousy and glanced around, until she spotted the coffee maker. “No, thank you. Did you call the mechanic about my car?”
Charlotte pointed to the mugs hanging from hooks under the cabinets. “I did. Said he’d already seen it and towed it to town.”
“I see.” The fact that someone would tow her car before he was asked to irritated her, but she bit her lip. Better to keep her thoughts to herself for the moment. She poured herself a thick cup of coffee, then looked at the black liquid that bore no resemblance to her usual morning fix. “Did he say how bad it was?”
“No,” said Charlotte as she flipped the coffee maker off. “Thought you’d want to discuss that with him yourself. You need cream or sugar?”
Beth nodded and the other woman pointed at a red canister marked sugar. “Help yourself to the sugar. Half ‘n half’s in the ‘fridge, top shelf. Got to go feed the cats – back in a minute.”
The small wooden scoop hooked on the side of the sugar canister looked as though it might add the right amount of sugar, but it took some trial and error with the half ‘n half to get the coffee flavored to her satisfaction. When it looked about right, she took a sip and grimaced at the bitterness. Definitely not Starbucks, but she needed the caffeine, so she stood by the sink and looked out the window as she sipped.
The mug was about a third empty when Charlotte returned. “You ready for Beau to run you to town now?”
“Beau? I thought you were taking me?”
Charlotte turned towards the sink, and concentrated on wiping away an invisible spot. “Oh, no, I need to stay here. The little gal that helps us out during summers is coming by today. I just can’t get away. And Beau needed to stop by the vet’s agai
n anyway.”
Beau appeared in the doorway. “Charlotte says you need a ride to town.”
She nodded.
“Then let’s get going. Gotta make hay while the sun’s shining.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and opened the back door. It slammed behind him. With a sigh, Beth dumped the remaining coffee in the sink and sat the mug on the counter. The taste stuck with her, probably the same taste that stuck with cowboys out on the range in the old days. Might need to stop at a market while in town to pick up a better quality coffee.
Beau was already in his truck, the motor rumbling softly. She climbed in and Beau backed out of his spot without a word. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was thinking. He was so different than Quinn. There was something earthy
and real about him. Though she was intrigued, she didn’t have time for romantic pursuits. She needed to keep her eye on the prize.
On their way to town, Beth watched the sides of the winding blacktop, curious to see where she had wrecked. Sure enough, a short way down the road was a spot where the grass had been smashed down and ruts marked where her car had been. A small sapling leaned awkwardly with a large gash in its trunk. Just about three feet in front of the tire marks was a woven wire fence stretched tightly between thick wooden posts.
“That must be where I wrecked last night.”
“You were lucky. Been goin’ a little faster and you’d a gone right through that fence.”
“With the week I’ve been having, I’m surprised I didn’t.” Beth said, turning back to look at the spot. But, then Beau might not have stopped …
“Be glad you didn’t. That’s the pasture where your daddy’s prize polled Hereford bull is. He’d plow you over in the blink of an eye.” He glanced over at her and said, “And I would’ve been pissed if I’d had to go round that bull up in that storm.”
She looked at him, unable to tell if he was serious or teasing her. One corner of his mouth twitched up, but that was the only indication. Silence hung between the two. When they reached the T in the road, Beau paused at the stop sign and pointed to a mobile home with a well-manicured front yard. “That’s where Aidan lives, one of our ranch hands. He’s had a tough go of it, got no family, so after your daddy found out that he was sleeping in his truck, he offered Aidan this little piece of land. Let him pay for it out of his paycheck. That boy is a hard worker, determined as all get out, and he paid it off this past November.”
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