She didn’t have a choice about agreeing that he do the repairs. The Circle Cat couldn’t open for business with a smashed-up barn. And she’d even gotten something out of the deal—he’d agreed to work for food. How many times had she heard her father say the trick to business success was taking opportunities where you find them? See, she reasoned, she was simply being an effective businesswoman.
Getting the ranch fixed up mattered a lot more than some rambling cowboy’s opinion of her.
The glasses clinked when she set them in the sink and the lemonade sloshed when she slid it into the refrigerator. What about her pride? Didn’t that count?
What about that undeniable mutual attraction?
True, she didn’t have oodles of practiced skills, well…none actually. But she knew instant chemistry when it flashed in her face. He’d felt that sizzle in the air too, she was sure of it.
So why had he taken it upon himself to… What exactly had he been trying to accomplish with that strip tease?
Prove that she wasn’t as experienced as he was?
Excuse me if I have standards and don’t whip my clothes off every time a magnificent male specimen undresses in front of me.
Standards or no standards, the pitiful truth was, Victoria had never whipped her clothes off for any guy. Gorgeous or otherwise.
That was something she planned on correcting, sooner rather than later.
She stomped outside to the side porch and dropped onto the top step. Sure, she had a full afternoon of work ahead but those chores could wait a short while. Sometimes a girl needed a minute to sort things out.
Promise trotted up, settled and blinked her dark eyes.
“What do you think? Is he still laughing?” She rubbed the animal’s thick fur.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t have experience with men. In the past year or so, she’d gone on dozens of dates. Sure, they’d all been upstanding, prosperous business types her father and stepmother hand-picked for her but they still counted as men.
Bossy, know-it-all men. Men who thought they knew who she was without even taking the time to find out.
Was there any other kind?
Each of those evenings had ended with the inevitable chat with her seated on the overstuffed chair in her father’s den, while he and her stepmother debated the man’s eligibility. It had taken her way too long to figure out that her parents thought it was high time for her to settle down.
They’d done the same thing with her sister, Katherine, so she really should’ve seen it coming. One thing was certain, Victoria did not want to end up like her older sibling, married—with her whole future already mapped out.
Unlike her sister, her life would be about choices, not limitations. She’d hopped into the driver’s seat and intended to stay there. Mistakes, they’d be her own. Things done right, she’d get the credit.
That restlessness that had sent her packing, searching for something bigger…she wasn’t about to ignore it. Life was too short for regrets of what might’ve been and the world was too big for her not to at least try to carve out her own slice.
Settling down with a man was the last thing on her mind. Her plans included hard work, achieving her goal and enjoying herself—however she saw fit—while she was at it. Getting The Circle Cat back on its feet and filled with satisfied guests would be her adventure. Something she’d do on her own terms, something to be proud of. Something to show everyone back home that she was more than just a rich man’s daughter.
Her personal life?
She wasn’t about to ignore that. No matter what Lang thought, there would be some hot times in her future. Her immediate future. And if he wasn’t willing, then she’d find someone else.
Marriage? She’d canceled out that possibly when she wrote the check for the down payment on her dream. But carefree experiences with men of her own choosing—yes.
“It seems we have a new doorway in the barn. You didn’t like the other one, Miss Moore?”
Victoria doused her daydreaming and waved at Hank as he rambled up the walk. “Afternoon, Mr. Cartwright.”
He slipped off his hat, frowning. “I told you to call me Hank.”
“I will,” she grinned up at him, “But I wish you’d call me Victoria.”
He attempted a disapproving scowl but one side of his mouth fought a grin. She might never get the old man to call her by her first name, that didn’t mean she’d give up trying.
She gestured to the barn. “A cowboy had some trouble with his truck brakes.”
Hank’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “He stop by looking for work?”
“No but that’s what he’s found. He’s offered to take care of the repairs himself and agreed to work more for board.”
Hank twisted his cheek. “Does that suit you, having him around?”
The image of Lang, bare-chested and unbuttoning his pants, burst into her mind. She never remembered a man making her so curious and so annoyed at the same time. Or so…unsettled. And should she decide to act on those conflicting emotions and see which one was the most explosive…
Not trusting herself to answer Hank’s question, she simply tipped her head in response.
“Has he got a name?”
He’s got a lot more than a name. She repeated the cowboy’s own words, “Lang Thompson, from north of Phoenix.”
Hank twisted his wrinkled cheek, considering, so she asked, “You know him?”
He nodded. “I might. Is his dad Cordes Thompson, the horse breeder?”
“We didn’t get into personal questions,” she replied, a bit too quickly.
A light red flush crept up the cowhand’s neck. “Of course not. Pardon me.”
Sorry she’d embarrassed him, she shrugged, hurrying to add, “Anyway, he said it would only take a couple days.”
“There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Victoria appreciated his protective attitude. She didn’t know what she would’ve done without him. “Thanks, Hank.”
“I’m off to have another try at fixin’ that tractor.”
She stood up. “Dinner at five.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He plunked his hat back onto his bald head, backing away with Promise at his side.
“Hank?” Working hard to keep her tone neutral, she added, “Talk to Mr. Thompson about dinner, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Victoria checked her watch. There was still plenty of time to finish sorting the tack she’d been digging through before Lang Thompson came crashing into her life.
—
From its perch on a fence rail, a cactus wren cocked its head and fixed Lang with a beady-eyed stare. Its brown spots stood out against the late afternoon sunshine while its unblinking eyes watched his every move. He scowled at it but it didn’t take the hint to fly away. All he needed now was for that hairy dog to come by and scrutinize him too.
He tossed the last of the broken boards into the bed of his truck and pulled off his leather work gloves. Tearing out the mess had taken longer than he’d expected. A squint-eyed glance at the sun assured him he’d been at the chore for at least three hours.
Mealtime better be soon. That drive-through breakfast he’d eaten at seven-thirty wore off about the time he stepped into the shower.
Or maybe that had been an altogether different kind of hunger.
He clamped down on that line of thinking. The shapely rancher had the right moves but he knew what kind of woman she was even if she didn’t.
Try as she might to act like an accomplished seductress, Victoria Moore was wife material. She had “marry me” stamped all over her and Lang was not looking for commitment. That route wasn’t for him. He wasn’t looking for anything except a long stretch of sandy beach, a hot sun to burn away his memories and an endless supply of women. He’d have a different one every night, just to make sure he didn’t start preferring one over another. Because wanting only one…that’s when a man’s trouble started.
> He swung into the cab and turned on the ignition. After he dumped the broken boards on the burn pile, he’d come back and take the measurements so he’d know how much siding to buy.
“How’s it going?”
Lang poked his head out the window to find the old man strolling toward him, his hands shoved in his coverall pockets, the dog tagging beside him. “I’m on my way to unload the stuff where you told me to.”
Hank nodded. “You do that, then come on up to the house for dinner.”
Before Lang hit the gas pedal, Hank continued forward, asking, “Miss Moore said you’re from around Phoenix. You have a ranch up that way?”
“Used to.” He waited, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“I like that sayin’ ‘it’s a small world’, because it’s true.” The hand looped around to head toward the main house. The dog jogged beside him.
Lang shrugged off the odd comment. Old timers were known for being eccentric.
The truck hopped up and down as Lang followed the two-track road around behind the bunkhouses. Internal heat trickled through him as he passed Paradise Hideaway. What kind of game was Victoria playing anyway? Why was she pretending to be something she obviously wasn’t?
As much as he wanted to shake it off, curiosity stuck to him. Curiosity about her and her plans for The Circle Cat. He hated to admit it, but he was filling up with questions that shouted for answers.
It was easy to see why his cousin insisted he stop by and look the place over. For someone with a solid work ethic and a hefty load of know-how, the ranch had a lot of potential. Lang chuckled. That would leave Victoria Moore out. She’d be running home to daddy soon enough.
He followed the track to its end. An arch of tree stumps and logs for seating surrounded a neat stack of brush. A tight circle of stones separated the sitting area from the burn pile. It was the perfect setting for trail-weary tourists.
Okay, he had to give her some credit. What she’d managed to get done so far impressed him. But she’d get tired of breaking her nails about the same time she realized that animals needed tending regardless of their owner’s social obligations.
It didn’t make sense for someone like her, a woman who could be living anywhere, to be staying alone out in the middle of the desert. The obvious reason, that she was running away from something, didn’t fit. She didn’t have the look of a woman running scared. Her face shone with pride and expectation. She was right where she wanted to be. Or so she thought.
What else could there be? She didn’t have anything to prove and she sure wasn’t going to find a husband out in the middle of nowhere.
He paused and rubbed his hand across the stubble dotting his jaw. Maybe he ought to find a way to convince her that she didn’t belong at The Circle Cat. If he did, he could talk her into selling the place to Cole and him.
She’d be better off and him—well, he’d have to start all over again. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Maybe.
As long as he and Cole kept up that bachelors-only policy they’d talked about, then he wouldn’t have to worry about losing it all a scheming woman. Again.
Mexico? It would always be there for him when he needed it.
Lang heaved the boards out of the truck bed and tossed them onto the pile. Soon enough, the pile was overflowing and likely to produce some sky-high flames. There wasn’t anything nearby to catch fire but the intensity of a fire that big was sure to frighten a city slicker like Victoria.
A grin spread across his face. That’d be a sight to see. The awesome heat of the flames might cook some sense into her.
Not only was she attempting the impossible with the ranch, she was also messing with his head. That silly, sex kitten act on the porch. What was that all about?
He could come right out and ask her what game she was playing. It would be easy enough to point out the striking contrast between her flirtatious ways and how she’d blushed when he’d started to undress in front of her.
He hefted the last board and turned toward the horizon. A hawk soared above him, probably watching a mouse, getting ready to pounce on it. The way Victoria circled around him, he could relate to that mouse.
No, he wouldn’t ask her about her game. Why she wanted to play the part of a tease was her business, not his.
He shook his head and chuckled.
Then again…
Maybe if he played along, softened her up, she’d listen to him when he asked her to sell. If they played by his rules, he’d get what he wanted and she’d get what she needed.
A tremor of expectation moved through him. He’d handled women a lot more experienced than that filly. Sure, he had an attraction to her, so he’d have to keep his guard up. As long as he stayed in control he’d be fine.
No problem.
Chapter Four
After an hour of fast work in the tack room, Victoria headed to the kitchen and cleared out the boxes and set the table. The new blue and white floral dishes were perfect, sturdy and functional but pretty. The simple plates and matching glasses were exactly the thing she’d always imagined would be right for a ranch.
She snickered. Her stepmother would hate them.
Hank rolled in, eyed the improved dinner table and then sat at his usual spot across from the window. “We run out of paper plates?”
She grinned at the humor in his voice. “I had to get unpacked sooner or later.” Pulling ice from the freezer, she added, “We’ll be having guests soon.”
“Think we’ll be ready on time?”
“Yes,” she replied without even considering the possibility that they wouldn’t.
She tossed some ice into a tall glass, filled it with tea and set it by his plate.
He nodded his thanks. “I met up with Lang.”
“Oh?” She worked at keeping her tone light. “I haven’t seen him around.” Hank didn’t need to know she’d gawked at Lang nonstop while he loaded his truck bed with broken boards. The brawny image of his swaying shoulders had stuck with her ever since and it wasn’t likely to fade any time soon. And the way his thighs flexed each time he bent…that picture might never go away. “Did you tell him to come to dinner?”
“Asking about me?”
Victoria shifted to see the object of her wayward thoughts moving through the front room. His lightly colored plaid shirt showed off his sun-darkened skin and hinted at the strapping muscles beneath. Funny, she hadn’t noticed that cowboy swagger before. Somehow the cocky stride made his legs look even longer.
Lang’s new air of self-confidence swirled around her, short-circuiting her senses, fraying her nerves. When he laughed at something Hank said, a flash of heated irritation nearly made her scowl but she fought against it. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she even remembered that embarrassing bunkhouse scene.
She swallowed against the tension gathering in her throat and forced some friendly words out. “Hi, Lang. Hank was just telling me you two already met.”
Lang nodded at the older man. “Thanks for the help. I found the burn pile.” He turned his self-satisfied grin her way. “That’s a nice fire pit you have there. Your guests are going to have a real fine time.”
He hooked a chair leg with his boot heel, pulling it under him as he sat. Looking like he owned the place, he leaned back.
There was definitely something different about him. Annoyingly different.
The buzzer on the stove went off, making Victoria jump. Glad to have a reason to turn away, she grabbed a pair of oven mitts and pulled the casserole out of the stove. Within a couple minutes, she had it on the table, along with the salad and dinner rolls.
She finally got the nerve to look Lang square in the face. He still had that aggravating grin on his well-shaped mouth. His brown eyes sparked with a dare. Inwardly she fumed. So he was still laughing at her?
Let him.
Victoria was finished letting other people hold her back, telling her what she should and shouldn’t do—who sh
e could and couldn’t be. If she decided to try out her grab-the-world-with-both-hands personality on Lang Thompson, he’d just better hold tight to that cowboy hat, because she’d knock him flat with her new, improved, sexually advanced self.
“Looks wonderful as usual, Miss Moore. Sit down so we can eat.”
Hank’s suggestion broke into her jumbled brain, making her realize she’d been standing by the counter like an idiot.
Summoning her enhanced self-confidence and attitude, she nodded at the cowhand then looked at Lang, who lifted one eyebrow the same way he had when he’d caught her staring at him by his truck. Before he could see the blush spreading across her face, she pulled out a chair and glided down.
Hank picked up the casserole, put a serving on his plate and then passed it to Lang. She started the salad and Lang picked up the rolls. The gentle clatter of silverware barely filled the kitchen. Apparently, being talkative was not included in Lang’s new persona.
Hank finally broke the quiet. “Where’re you headed, Lang?”
Victoria continued eating, peering at Lang from under her lashes. The arrogant expression faded a bit but his voice stayed easy. “Mexico.”
The old cowhand pressed for more. “Goin’ there on business?”
Lang swallowed some iced tea, shook his head. “Nope.”
Hank shrugged and let the topic drop. Victoria turned back to her salad, taking more time than necessary to cut the tomatoes. Leave it to men to clam up when the conversation got interesting.
She could pick up the thread but she didn’t want Lang to get the misguided notion she cared where he was headed. He seemed to think he already had in her in his back pocket.
The lull of quiet got her thinking about her plans for the next few days. Her to-do list never grew shorter and the preparations weren’t going to take care of themselves. Top on that list was to get some horses. “Hank, you ready to go over to Tombstone with me?”
The old man frowned. “You going tomorrow?”
Victoria nodded, a sense of foreboding settling in her stomach.
Cowboy For Hire Page 3