Cowboy Wilde (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  He nodded. “You’ll be staying here in the main house. I’m bunking at the guest house.”

  “Sounds…intriguing.” She could run back home to her apartment with the luxurious sheets. It sounded tempting.

  But she couldn’t.

  Not that she couldn’t, but she didn’t want to. The last thing she wanted to hear was Emily saying that she wasn’t ready. Stiffening her back, she prepared herself for whatever this cowboy expected from her.

  “Shall we go over my duties?”

  He pushed off the counter, strolled to the table and jerked out the chair across from her and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. “This place is opening in three months. There’s a lot to do in the meantime.”

  “You wouldn’t say…” She laughed but it was cut short by his leveled expression. “You’re not joking?”

  “I very seldom joke, especially about business.”

  “Oh, I see.” She shifted in the chair. “Maybe we got off to the wrong start.” She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He stared at her fingers before he finally shook her hand. “I’m Ruger Wilde.”

  Just like every other part of him, his hands weren’t any softer. The calluses on the inside of his knuckles scraped her sensitive skin, sending an unexplained awareness through her. Jerking her hand back, she wiped it on her slacks which earned her a disgruntled expression from her new boss. Oh no! She hadn’t meant to offend him. She’d only entered a forbidden zone and wasn’t sure how to respond.

  She took a deep breath and said, “I’m Grace.” Her cheeks heated.

  “Do you prefer Grace over GraceAnn?”

  “Yes. Please.” She crossed her legs, partly to contain the quivering in her inner thighs. How was she supposed to concentrate when her body seemed to be as wobbly as gelatin?

  “Your duties…” His cell buzzed and he took it from his back pocket, and while still staring at the screen, he said, “cooking. Cleaning. Renovations. A Jackie of all trades.” His gaze came up. “Just as we talked about.”

  “So there’s service here?”

  “On occasion. Depends on which way the wind blows. If that’s a problem now’s the time to turn back where you came from.”

  She made a choking sound and covered it up by clearing her throat. “Who will I be cooking and cleaning for? There are no guests.”

  “I have hands that’ll need fed. There will be four of us. Lunch and dinner.”

  “What am I making?” Her shoulders slumped.

  With a sigh, he laid his phone aside and his forehead wrinkled. “You said you’ve made menus for a kids camp? Hell, even a grown man likes chicken nuggets and French fries on occasion. If there’s a problem—”

  “No. Not a problem. Just curious what cowboys like to eat. I bet you don’t like salads. You look like the steak and potatoes kind. I mean, you know, strong muscles.” What the hell? She was screwing up.

  “You don’t eat steak and potatoes?” A thick brow swept up over curious eyes. The bulging vein had returned.

  Truth was, she hadn’t eaten a steak in…well, too long to remember. At home, cooking for herself, she’d make a salad or soup or grabbed takeout. But she couldn’t tell him that, not when he expected her to cook for hungry men. “Don’t worry. I know what men like.” When the corner of his mouth lifted, she blurted, “In the kitchen.” Had the temperature risen?

  “Good, because I expect my men to work hard and a man never gives his best on an empty stomach. You’ll be responsible for grabbing the supplies you need from town, and anything else that arises.”

  She was out of her comfort zone, but she wasn’t a quitter. How hard could this be? “This kitchen…really isn’t advantageous to preparing meals.” The only thing she had to compare it to was her custom kitchen back home that she’d only used a handful of times.

  “You’ll manage.” He frowned. “Painting and small repairs too.”

  She hadn’t thought this through far enough.

  “Is there a problem?” he drawled.

  Many. “No, but honestly, I guess I wasn’t expecting…well, that it would take so much work.” That was a good excuse. Suddenly her clothes felt two sizes too small. First impressions were important, and she just kept messing up. “Is it always so hot in Montana?”

  “Weather report said we’re looking at high nineties today, and a storm later. Yeah, summer can be a scorcher, but winters are a bitch.”

  Weather was always a good subject to give her time to get herself back on the track. What happened to the confident, secure, and prepared woman? Here, she was completely out of her element and she couldn’t hide that fact under a smile or humor. Normally when having a conversation with a man she could hold her own but with him she felt like she was missing a screw.

  Bad choice of words.

  He scratched his cheek with his thumbnail, his gaze bearing into her. “Why are you here?”

  “I-I was at the bus station—”

  “You’re a long way from New York, Grace.” Her name rolled off his tongue like honey, triggering a reaction in her core. “Are you sure you’re cut out for this?”

  His words almost sounded like a challenge. “Yes.”

  “I don’t think so,” he remarked.

  She was tired of people telling her what she could and couldn’t do, especially a stranger. A spark lit inside her. “You’re wrong.”

  “You prepared to break a few nails?”

  Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Look, Mr. Wilde—”

  “Ruger.”

  “Ruger, I’d like to ask that you give me a chance before you start assuming that I can’t do what you’re asking from me.”

  He smiled and she tried not to be distracted by those cornflower blue eyes that sparkled. “As I said on the phone, if you can remember, I need someone who doesn’t mind getting dirty. I’m not making any assumptions except that I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” He stood as if finalizing the conversation.

  She jumped up, sending the chair falling back onto the floor with a crash. He towered her five-foot five height, but she didn’t let that fact worry her. Hands pressed to hips and chin tilted stubbornly, she said, “I rode for many hours on a bus, sleeping next to a man who snored ninety percent of the time and then caught a smelly ride in a pig truck to get here. It would be disrespectful of you to not give me a chance to prove myself. I’m going out on a limb here and bet you don’t have a line of people wanting this job. The house is held together by a rusty nail. The appliances could have been hand-picked from my great grandmother’s house, including the wallpaper. And you, Ruger, are a grump! Yeah, I said it.”

  His eyes widened slightly, a second before his smile swept over those plush lips. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t, did I? I’m grabbing a water. Relax, Grace. You’re in Montana now.”

  The even words swooped in and pounced on her nerves. With an exhale, she picked up the chair and sat back down while he went to the refrigerator. Calm down, Grace.

  When he came back to sit, she hoped she had her nerves under control.

  He lifted his bottle and drank thirstily, while watching her.

  She refused the need to squirm.

  “I guess I need to get an idea who you are. We’ve talked on the phone briefly but not nearly enough time for me to get to know you better.”

  “Yes.” How much had GraceAnn told him about herself? Did she inform him of her age? Grace was at least five years older than the younger woman. Did they talk about the boyfriend? The invisible rope seemed to tighten. Why hadn’t she taken this all into consideration? “Ask me anything.”

  “Do you think you can handle being out here in the country? No corner gourmet coffee shops or fast food. No night clubs or expensive boutiques.”

  “I can handle a lot.”

  “Really? Montana can feel isolated if you’re not used to the quiet.”

  “I love the quiet.” No lie there.

  “You didn’t quite
answer my question.” His gaze narrowed. “Are you okay without all the conveniences available in the city?”

  Clearing her throat, she smoothed her hands down her thighs. “There’s a thing called Amazon and I’m sure they deliver, even all the way out here in Cooper’s Hawk. As far as fast food, the diner surprisingly has a large menu. Isolation is what I’m looking for. In fact, I’m craving it. And I can promise I’m a quick learner.”

  “What about a man? Husband? Boyfriend? Will you be asking for time off for visits?”

  “No. No, and no. I’m not here to find one either if that was your next question.” Taking a sip of her water, she then touched the bottle against her neck.

  He narrowed his gaze, burrowing his eyes in the skin where the plastic bottle had touched. “I guess I’m still trying to figure out why a woman, like yourself, would want to move from the city.”

  “Yes, I’m certainly a woman.” She uncrossed her legs.

  “What about family? Ma and Pa?”

  “I wasn’t conceived and raised in a test tube.”

  One corner of his mouth played with a grin. “Are you trying to be vague?”

  “I’m only wondering what these questions have to do with the job you hired me for?” She wished she had a fan because sweat beaded her skin.

  “Fair enough. This job won’t be easy, and the pay is lousy, but the scenery makes up for the downfalls. And like I said earlier, weekends don’t mean you’re off. We start the day at five A.M. and end at sundown, sometimes longer. I’ll expect you to hold a hammer and a paint brush and I’m not into hearing any complaining. I’m also not here to train you. I hired you because you said you have the experience I’m looking for. After I said all this do you still want to stay or do I find you a ride back to the bus station?”

  Without hesitation, she answered, “Yes. I want to stay.” The job had become a challenge. Did she glimpse relief in his expression?

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  Lots. But it was best to keep them to herself. “Nope.”

  “Then welcome aboard, Grace.”

  Containing her smile, she lifted her gaze and their eyes locked. “Wait, I do have one. Does the bedroom where I’ll be staying have a bed?”

  “Yes. And the bathroom has running water.”

  “You said I have to make trips into town to get supplies so does that mean I’ll have access to a vehicle?”

  “Ever driven a truck?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. How about a horse?”

  “Years ago.”

  “You’ll get reacquainted with that skill too.” He laughed “Cut the nails and don’t wear hoop earrings.”

  She lifted a puzzling brow. “Really? Isn’t that a bit overbearing?”

  “Hell if I know, but what I do know is a ripped off nail or torn out earring won’t feel good but suit yourself.” He stood and stretched, and the T-shirt rode up a few inches on his flat stomach, exposing a trail of crisp dark hair that disappeared inside the waist of his jeans. She quickly turned her gaze away, reminding herself to keep her attention on his face, but even there she found danger. His cool blue eyes penetrated all her protective layers. His grin and full lips were made for stolen kisses. Her best bet was to focus on the cleft in his chin, his ears, or his forehead. As she contemplated her issue, he said, “Come and I’ll show you around.”

  She stood and offered him a smile. Just how tall was he? Six foot two? Three?

  Don’t even think about his physical features.

  “Let’s start inside.” He stepped passed her and she caught a pleasing whiff of soap and wood. The scent smelled like early morning walks while dew was on the grass. “Here are the back stairs we came down earlier.” He started up them.

  Her gaze naturally fell on the pockets of his jeans. A man’s butt had never been something she’d stared at, but he had a nice one. Was this a cowboy’s butt? Firm from riding a horse? “Oh my.”

  “Did you say something?” He stopped to look at her over his shoulder.

  “No, I mean, yes. I was talking to myself. About the stairs. They’re a little squeaky.” She clutched the bannister tightly.

  “Don’t worry. Anything that’s erected is safe. I made sure myself.”

  They made it to the second floor and he took a step back to allow her to pass. “It has potential.” She admired the original wood trim and floors.

  “This old place will outlast us. It just needs some TLC.” He stopped in front of the room where he’d been working. “One bedroom there. A bathroom here.” He opened a closed door and she peered in. Although the fixtures were outdated and it needed a fresh paint job, the space was clean. The next stop, another bedroom. “This is where you’ll be sleeping.”

  She expected a similar space like the rest of the house—run down and a desperate need for a makeover—but she couldn’t complain. A king-sized bed took up a small portion of the large room, bracketed by farmhouse style whitewashed nightstands and a matching mirrored chest of drawers. A wooden rocking chair sat on the other side and a walk-in closet offered extra storage. The room even had its own bathroom and the two-person lion-clawed tub was a perfect place for long soaks. A wide, beveled antique mirror hung above jack and jill sinks with an intricate carving in the marbled granite.

  “I’m impressed.” She slid her fingers along the smooth sink. “No, I’m in love. It’s four times larger than my bathroom back home.”

  He leaned against the door jamb and the cleft in his chin deepened as he smiled. “Welcome to the country.”

  “Did you do this?”

  “I can’t take all the credit. I already had the furniture in storage but everything else came from the previous owner, James Carter, who was rumored to have built the house, the master bedroom specifically, to his wife’s tastes. His space is located downstairs. The den has a more masculine feel with built in original bookcases. I’ll probably turn it into a bedroom. Carter lived here alone until his son placed him in a nursing home where he passed away soon after.”

  “What happened to his wife?”

  “June fell down the stairs and died. She was only thirty and was carrying their second child. James never got over the loss and wanted to keep the house the way it was while she was still alive. However, their son had a different idea. He came in, sold all the furnishings that were worth a bit, then left the place to rot.”

  “That’s a tragic story.”

  “The house has a lot of history, not all so good.”

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “Five. Two masters, this one and another downstairs, and three other large rooms, excluding the den, but without attached bathrooms. They all need a paint job unless you’re into the Gothic Damask. I’m still deciding, if I have the time and money, whether to build an additional room on the back.”

  “This seems like an awfully big project for one person.” Her admiration for the house was growing, even with all the esthetic flaws.

  “I can handle it. I flip houses for a living. My plan would be to tear down one wall and expand the kitchen,” he said on their way back downstairs, this time taking the front stairs. In the living room he switched on a lamp light. “Obviously, this room still needs work too and I’m not much of a decorator. I don’t know how much you’re into watching TV, but we don’t have one hooked up yet.”

  “I don’t watch much. I spent most of my extra time as a kid and an adult reading. Thanks to a stepfather who owned a bookstore my sister and I always had a book to read.”

  “Feel free to search through the titles on the shelf.” He jerked a nod toward the small built in shelf. “They were left here. Yet, I don’t plan for either of us to have much free time.”

  The outdated wallpaper was dog-eared, and the wood flooring needed to be varnished, but at least it was salvageable. A window seat looked sad with only a small, tattered pillow. The first thing she planned to do was pull off the dirty curtains on the windows and let some fresh air insid
e. “Is there AC?” She wasn’t miserably hot, but she could feel the heat rising.

  “No. A cooling system is on back order. Apparently, everyone and their brother needs one, probably from the heat wave. Fortunately, the house has the shade of trees that helps.”

  “In that case…” At one window, she dragged the torn velvet curtain from a bent rod and a plume of dust floated around her head. She sputtered and coughed. He strolled across the room, opened the window and fresh air flowed in.

  Finally catching her breath, she saw the amazing view from the window. “This view. It doesn’t get much better than this.”

  The sunlight put a whole new perspective on the room. Her creative side took shape. She saw the space in a brighter color that would pull in all the light through the large windows. Bold curtains that coordinated with new cushions for the window seat where visitors could sit and read or drink coffee in the mornings. The old wallpaper and furniture would have to go, as well as the musky smell. “Who have you hired to decorate?” When he didn’t answer she turned and looked at him.

  He blinked and gave a casual shrug. “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “And you’re wanting to open soon? I haven’t run a B&B, but I’ve visited plenty in my time and people are paying for the décor as much as they are the location.”

  With a shrug, he said, “Let’s head back into the kitchen.” He motioned for her to follow. “Feel free to change things however you see fit to make it more comfortable.”

  “Will the hands be living on the ranch too?”

  “No. They’ll leave every evening. There used to be a ranch hand bunkhouse out by the guest house, but it fell down years ago.”

  “Since the house will be for guests, does that mean you only need my help until you open?” She couldn’t possibly stay too long. She had a life back in New York, as small as it was, and she had her business to think about.

  “That was the plan. I expect I’ll find someone local to run the kitchen for guests.”

  “I think I’m all out of questions, for now.”

  “We haven’t discussed salary yet.” He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.