by Linda Howard
She spun back around, and the expression on her face was almost evil, it was so smug. “Yes?” She tilted her head, waiting.
She knew, damn it. She knew why he was here and she was going to make him beg. The bad thing was, he would beg, if that’s what it took. That’s what he’d been reduced to, but he couldn’t keep on the way he was going. All the hands would quit, and he couldn’t blame them. Hell, he might even quit himself. “The new girl—Carly. If she’s interested, I could use her at the ranch,” he said grudgingly, and added, “Temporarily, of course.”
One of the customers stood and headed for the cash register. Kat held up a finger to silently tell Zeke to wait while she rang up the ticket. She even engaged in a little light conversation, almost as if she were purposely making Zeke wait. “Almost?” There was no “almost” to it. She downright enjoyed torturing him.
But within a few minutes she was back. She leaned against the counter, smug smile still in place. “You were saying?”
“Damn it, Kat,” he growled under his breath. “I’m desperate. I’ve got to get someone to fill in until Spencer is able to take on the cooking duties again, even if it is a blonde who …”
“Who what?” Kat prodded when he stopped himself before he said too much.
He needed to have his head examined. No, he needed someone like Libby, or a man who could cook. What he didn’t need was a sassy blonde living in the same house, one who made him hard and pissed him off at the same time. Kat thought she was torturing him? She was nothing compared to what having Cautious Carly in his house would be like, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “What do you know about her? I’ll run her references when I get a chance, but until then—”
Kat’s smile vanished. She gave him a long, level stare. “We have to talk about that.”
Oh, fuck. He’d known something was up with Miss Cautious, and Kat had just confirmed it.
She disappeared into the kitchen, and was soon back with a plate of some chicken and gravy and rice dish that had his mouth watering on sight.
“Eat first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”
It didn’t bode well that she was trying to make sure he was in a good mood before they continued the conversation.
She left him to eat in peace while she checked on her other customers, refilled cups and glasses. Then she waited until they left before she came back, which told him she wanted privacy for this conversation.
What the hell was he getting himself into?
What choice did he have?
CARLIN KNEW ZEKE Decker was in the restaurant. She’d heard his voice, distant but distinct, as soon as he’d come in. His tone was low, but deep and kind of raspy, probably from barking orders all day long. Or maybe it was like the voice of doom. Yeah, that was a great comparison. She was glad today she was the one cooking the daily special—Kat’s recipe, but an easy one for her to get in some practice—instead of working the counter. The last thing she wanted to do was wait on that ass who’d callously called her a “stray,” and wouldn’t consider hiring her even though, according to Kat, he desperately needed someone out at his ranch. Not that she wanted to work for him, but it was the principle of the thing.
Then Kat stuck her head into the kitchen. “Hey, turn the heat off under everything and come on out here for a minute, okay?” Carlin’s heart jumped, which was a stupid thing for it to do, but evidently cardiac muscles just had impulses, not brains.
She took a deep breath and turned everything off, then washed her hands and thoroughly dried them—twice—before she left the kitchen.
The first thing she saw was that Zeke was the only customer there. It was a little early for the regular lunch customers, and the last of the breakfast crowd had left. Zeke had cleaned his plate and had a half-eaten piece of apple pie sitting in front of him.
He looked at her as if he was very unhappy with what he saw. He did everything but growl. Yeah, well, let him try to look nice wearing a gravy-stained apron and a hairnet; she gave him back as good as she got, all but snarling at him.
Kat glared at him, and rapped her knuckles on the counter to emphasize her point. “Before I start, you have to promise me that everything we say to you will remain confidential.”
His scowl got even darker, and he groaned as he rubbed his face. “Shit. This can’t be good.”
“Promise,” Kat insisted. “Or this won’t go an inch further and you can go look somewhere else for a cook.”
What? Carlin shook her head in protest. She didn’t want to go cook for Grumpy and his not-so-merry band of cowboys. This was so not a good idea. She glared at him. And exactly what was Kat going to tell him? Surely not about—
He glared back, but said, “Fine. I promise.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but Kat seemed to be satisfied.
She got straight to the point. “Carlin has some trouble of the stalker variety. She needs to stay completely off the grid for a while.”
“Kat!” Appalled, Carlin stared at her. So much for keeping her name a secret. Maybe he hadn’t picked up on it, because Carly and Carlin sounded so much alike, but she glanced at him to find him staring at her with an intensity that told her he’d noticed, all right.
Kat raised her hand to forestall any more protests. “Trust me,” she said. “He can help.”
“Yeah? How?”
“His situation has gotten worse, and now you’re in the driver’s seat because he needs you more than you need him,” Kat said, gloating even though Zeke was sitting right there listening to everything she said. She smiled. He made a sound in his throat that might be a growl.
Zeke was already shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. The last thing I need is to take on another problem—”
Kat snorted. “Yeah, because you’re doing so well on your own. Carlin can cook and clean, and the ranch would be the perfect place for her to lay low for a few months.” Her hands went out and up. “Win-win.”
“I just need someone for a few weeks, until Spencer’s out of his sling. And I sure as hell don’t need anyone who has to lay low.”
“And why would I be laying low at the ranch anyway?” Carlin asked. “Why couldn’t I stay here and drive out to the ranch every day? Assuming I wanted to work for him anyway, which I don’t, me being a stray and all. We strays don’t like to work hard.” She curled her lip at him to let him know exactly how much she appreciated his choice of words, which was zero, zip, nada.
But Kat shook her head. “It’s a long drive, at least an hour, that you don’t want to be making twice a day, especially at night. You’d have to get up at three-something in the morning to get to the ranch in time to have breakfast ready, and wouldn’t get home until ten, eleven at night, sometimes. It just wouldn’t work, not even when the weather’s good. The days are getting short now, and once winter rolls around the roads can get pretty icy. This is definitely a live-in job.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And besides, I stay upstairs in the winter when the roads are bad.”
Yeah, she’d mentioned that before, but Carlin had settled into the attic room and gotten so used to it she’d forgotten. “Oh.” So it was all or nothing. She had to choose Grumpy, or she had to hit the road.
“From what I hear, Spencer wasn’t doing such a great job before his accident, anyway,” Kat continued, turning her attention back to Zeke, determined to force this situation in the direction she wanted.
“Maybe he wasn’t, but no one has gone hungry.” An unspoken “yet” hung in the air. Then he admitted defeat, his scowl deepening. “Damn it, if I had any other choice, I wouldn’t even consider—”
Carlin lifted a hand to cut him off. She’d heard enough. Maybe—probably—she should have her head examined, but instead of deterring her his reluctance had the opposite effect. She wanted to work for him, but on her terms, not his. She wanted to make him eat his words—which, honestly, might taste better than her cooking. She was learning, but learning was the operative word. And Kat was right. This was a near-perfect, short-ter
m solution. “It sounds to me like you could use some help. I’m willing to take on the job, but only if you agree to some things. I don’t need to be fired in the middle of the winter in Wyoming,” she said, taking control of the situation and warming to it, because his gaze was getting more narrow and hostile by the moment. She was doing good. “I either move on within the next couple of weeks, or I stay until spring.”
Zeke studied her for a moment with those piercing green eyes that held no sympathy. “If I don’t hire you, where are you going?”
“That’s none of your business. And even if it was, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Kat stepped back and crossed her arms, apparently satisfied to set this conversation into motion and then let the two involved parties fight it out.
The idea of a place to stay for the winter, food and lodging, a ranch that was literally in the middle of nowhere … it was the perfect solution, except for one irate, stubborn ranch owner. She was so tired of running, she’d enjoyed her weeks here in Battle Ridge, and no way was she going to let him ruin this for her. He needed her more than she needed him. Still, she might as well throw him a bone.
“I’ll work hard, and I’ll stay out of your way,” she told him briskly. “All I ask is that you pay me in cash, keep the name ‘Carlin’ to yourself, and stay out of my way. And keep me on until spring. In the spring I’ll move on.” By then she’d have a good bit of cash in her pocket, and—if she was lucky—a plan of some sort that would free her from this prison Brad had created for her.
Zeke still looked unconvinced and suspicious. “How do I know this stalker story isn’t a bunch of bull and you’re wanted by the police? For all I know you’re a con artist, or wanted for murdering your last employer.”
“Hey!” Kat yelped, outraged on Carlin’s behalf. “I’m her last employer.”
Carlin thought that maybe she should be outraged herself, but she wasn’t. She knew how this had to look to Zeke, but she couldn’t tell him the details. She couldn’t plead her case. And she would not beg. Zeke Decker would take her for the winter, or he wouldn’t.
“All I have to offer is my word, I suppose. I’m guilty of being naive. Nothing more.”
He took a few minutes to think it over. It was obvious he wasn’t pleased by the development, but he hadn’t dismissed the idea of hiring her out of hand, either. He must really be in a tight spot to even consider it.
“You can cook, can’t you?” he finally asked.
“I can,” Carlin said confidently. Maybe she wasn’t on Kat’s level, but she had learned a lot working at The Pie Hole and she could follow a recipe. She could learn more.
“You got anything against doing laundry?”
“Nope.” She thought about telling her prospective employer that she was willing to do anything, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea with a vague and possibly suggestive anything. “I also do windows.”
Zeke took his last bite of pie, chewing it and the situation over at the same time. She could tell he was sorting through his options, which, from what she’d heard, weren’t good. He either hired her, or he did without a cook. He was obviously unhappy when he growled, “Fine, you’re hired. Fair warning, though: the windows haven’t been cleaned in about a year.”
Carlin caught herself smiling, and she doused it immediately. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, that maybe she was grateful. She was, but not the way he’d think. She didn’t want him to assume he had all the power in this new professional relationship. He needed her as much as she needed him. No, he needed her more. She wouldn’t allow him to forget that.
There was still the matter of her salary to negotiate. And she had to figure out what she was going to do about the way her heart kept beating faster every time he was close by.
Suddenly she felt very uneasy. For months, she hadn’t found any man attractive, because Brad had left such a terrible imprint on her psyche. Now, all of a sudden, her wayward insides were taking notice of a man she knew for sure she was going to leave. What the hell was wrong with her?
Okay, it was official: she’d gone nuts.
Chapter Seven
CARLIN’S HEART WAS pounding at a ridiculous rate the next day as she followed Zeke Decker’s dark green pickup truck down one narrow road after another. Kat had been right—it was a damn long drive through a lot of nothing to get from Battle Ridge to the ranch. She tried to calm down by calling herself silly for being so excited, she tried to distract herself by first one thing then another, but the fact was: she was going to be working at Zeke Decker’s house!
And if that wasn’t silly, she didn’t know what was, to be as giddy as a teenager at the idea of being close to a man. Not dating him, not doing anything except probably working her butt off, but—being close to him! Seeing him every day! Handling his dirty underwear!
She was mentally unbalanced. Had to be. She couldn’t feel this way about him. It wasn’t just silly, it was impossible. And dangerous. Considering her situation, nothing could—
Oh, wow!
Her mouth fell open at the grandeur around her. She hadn’t been able to distract herself, but God and Mother Earth had done the job, and how.
They’d long since left the asphalt highway, turned right onto a graveled road, then left onto another one that was less well graveled, then sort of veered onto a dirt road that seemed to meander all over creation and back. It was noon, the sun was directly overhead, so she didn’t even have any idea what direction they were traveling in. All she knew for certain was that they were climbing higher in altitude, because her ears kept popping.
And the scenery was beautiful. No, the word “beautiful” was too mild; the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. She almost gave herself whiplash trying to see all the gorgeous valleys and the awe-inspiring mountains. The view from Battle Ridge of the mountains had been beautiful, but now she was much closer, and she felt almost as if she could barely breathe this close to something that words couldn’t really describe. All the head-swiveling didn’t do anything to help her keep her sense of direction, but what the hell, that was already blown, so she might as well enjoy the drive.
On a more practical note, this job on the Decker ranch had better work out, because there was no way in hell she could find her way back to Battle Ridge; she’d effectively be stranded out here, at least for a while. Her short and not-very-sweet acquaintance with Decker made her less than optimistic that he’d take pity on her and lead her back to civilization, especially since he was in such dire straits. He evidently needed a cook and housekeeper bad enough to hire a “stray.”
“Stray,” she muttered. “I’ll show you stray.”
Just thinking about that made her get pissed off all over again. No, there was no again to it, because she hadn’t stopped being pissed off to begin with, and that was good. She wasn’t certain exactly what she meant by showing him, or what she could do, but she’d think of something to get back at him. She needed the money, she needed the job, but right now he needed her even more and that gave her the upper hand. She liked being pissed. Pissed off was the best mood for her to be in. Otherwise, Decker was too much of a temptation.
Hell, he was a temptation even when she was pissed off.
Damn it. Damn him, for being so blasted sexy—and he didn’t even try! Please God, she though frantically, don’t let him ever try. She didn’t know if she could resist him. Once upon a time, before Brad, she’d have been dancing on the ceiling at the way Decker made her feel: the thumping heartbeat, the nervousness and excitement in the pit of her stomach, the restlessness, the sensation of her skin being too hot and tight. Was it coincidence or a warning that the symptoms of strong attraction were pretty much the same as those for a dread disease? She could imagine that if she went to an ER with those symptoms she’d be slapped into a cardiac unit, or isolation, or both.
But there was no dancing on the ceiling now. He’d made it clear that she was just a fill-in until he could find someone permanent, prefe
rably a man, and that suited her fine. For now the Decker ranch—the wonderfully isolated Decker ranch—was a very good place to hide. If Decker found a permanent cook before the winter was over, she expected he’d fire her even though he’d promised not to, but considering her circumstances she was really okay with that. After all, she’d forced him to make that promise only to piss him off, the way he’d pissed her off. Fair was fair, right?
All she had to do was keep him at a distance, and far away from her overactive hormones. I can do that, she thought, and smirked to herself. She might even have fun doing it. And if she indulged her hormones by eyeing the eye-candy from time to time, that was okay, because washing his dirty underwear would even things out and keep her head out of the clouds. As long as she didn’t catch herself sniffing his shirts, she was fine.
He turned his pickup onto a graveled road that was marked by two posts so big and rough it looked as if someone had simply cut down two trees—two really big trees—and hacked the limbs off, then stuck the trees in the ground. The twenty-foot-tall posts supported a cross member that could be yet another tree, a rough-hewn slab of wood easily twice as thick as her body, into which the words “Rocking D Ranch” had been carved. Carlin steered the Subaru in the truck’s dusty path, feeling as if she were crossing an armed and barricaded border into a foreign country. Okay, so she hadn’t seen any machine-gun nests … yet. They might just be well hidden.
“Wow,” she muttered. As far as entrances went, she found this one pretty impressive: primitive, but impressive. Someone had really wanted that top tree slab up there, because the process couldn’t have been easy. She’d felt the same way about the Hoover Dam the first time she’d seen it: someone had to have been desperate to dam that river, to have gone to that much effort. Not that this compared to the Hoover Dam, but still.
Finally they reached civilization … kind of. The first sign was fencing, and she saw some horses grazing peacefully in the pasture. She wasn’t sure how she felt about horses. They were pretty, but big, and she thought they might be unpredictable. Didn’t matter; she was here to cook and clean, not ride a horse.