The place sure as hell needed cleaning. The pile of dust and dirt from the kitchen floor looked like she’d just cleaned out a stall in the barn. The man lived like a farm animal. Worse, actually. If he made his horses live this way, she’d sic the wrath of PETA on him and have them hauled away.
She was scraping the last of the dirt into a dustpan when she heard the heavy tread of boots hit the porch outside. Folding her arms across her chest and setting her jaw, she leaned against the sink and waited for his reaction to her efforts.
“Hmf.” Nate forced out a noncommittal grunt as he strode past her, scattering mud and straw across the clean floor. He kept his head down and his hat on, hiding his eyes under the wide brim while he prepared a rudimentary lunch. All she could see of his face was his clenched jaw, square and stubbled, set in a stony scowl.
The man ate like a farm animal too. Fisting a spoon like a toddler, he shoveled Fruit Loops and milk into himself until the last loop was scooped, then upended the bowl and slurped up the last of the sugar-laced milk. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and glanced around the house, taking in the shining counters and the empty sink. She was prepared for a thank-you, maybe even an apology, but he just stared up at her for a moment, his pale eyes expressionless. Turning away, he walked out without a word. She watched him go with her teeth painfully clenched.
Had she ever been this angry in her life? She thought back to every bad breakup she’d ever had, every fender bender, every fight. She hadn’t felt this kind of rage since Teresa Grummond stole her boyfriend in seventh grade.
“Bastard. Son-of-a-bitch bastard,” she mumbled. She stormed into the bedroom and changed her pants, kicking her feet into clean jeans so angrily she tripped herself and hopped around the room like a palsied rabbit before she managed to poke her foot through the leg-hole.
She’d call Sadie. That was what she’d do. She’d call Sadie and demand a rental car. She wasn’t spending an entire week of her life with Nate Shawcross. He was dangerous, for heaven’s sake. He’d brandished a whip at her, right? Well, sort of. Anyway, she was going home.
Sadie picked up on the first ring. “Tate,” she said.
“Get me out of here, Sadie.” Charlie’s resolution to act poised and professional hadn’t even survived the dialing process.
“Charlie, I never would have suspected you were a bigot,” Sadie said. “I am so disappointed in you.”
“Bigot?”
“This problem you have with Westerners. Now just because someone isn’t quite as sophisticated…”
“It has nothing to do with sophistication!” Charlie’s knuckles whitened on the handset. “Sadie, there’s no dude ranch here. The whole thing’s a bust. The place is a broken-down dirty hole, and I need to leave.”
“Charlie, I’m looking at the brochure as we speak, and…”
“I don’t know where those pictures were taken, but it wasn’t here. The brochure is a freaking hoax.”
“Then there are no horse whisperers there?” Sadie sounded like she’d just found out there was no Santa Claus.
“There’s just one guy and he’s a cowboy, not a horse whisperer.” Charlie explained about Sandi and the brochure.
“But there were all those recommendations from other trainers. Satisfied clients. Admiring colleagues.”
“She made them up,” Charlie said. “She made up the whole thing.”
“No.” Sadie sounded so sure of herself that Charlie felt a spasm of doubt. “Those were endorsements from top trainers, Charlie. Buck Brannaman. Clinton Anderson. And I called for confirmation.”
“They were real?” Charlie’s mind was racing, trying to figure out how elaborate a hoax Sandi had managed to put together.
“Definitely. They were surprised to hear Mr. Shawcross was running a clinic—he’s evidently somewhat, er, antisocial—but they were unanimous in their praise. Unanimous.”
Charlie didn’t want to believe it, but the antisocial comment certainly rang true. “Well, he’s not teaching a clinic,” she said. “So however talented he is, it’s not doing us any good.”
Sadie sighed. “You’ll need to get our deposit back,” she said. “Then I guess you might as well come home.”
“I don’t think he has it. The deposit, I mean. I think his girlfriend took the money and ran.”
Sadie cleared her throat. She always cleared her throat when she had something unpleasant to say.
“He’d better have it.” Her nasal voice jumped into a higher register. “We can’t afford to lose it.”
“I know,” Charlie said. “And I need a rental car. Mine broke down.”
There was a long silence.
“Sadie?”
“Charlie, our funding is limited. We need to conserve our resources.”
“It’ll be a week before the car’s fixed. I can’t stay here for a week.”
The silence again, and then the throat-clearing.
“I’m looking at my budget right here, Charlie,” she said, “and I don’t see a line item for ‘rental car.’ Besides, you can’t just leave yours there.”
“I’ll get it back somehow. That’s my problem. Listen, I’ll even fly if you want. I just need to come home. Now.” She took a deep breath. “This isn’t a good situation you’ve put me in, Sadie. He definitely doesn’t want me here.”
“Good. We’ll use that for leverage. Tell him you’re not leaving until you get that deposit.”
Charlie hated to bring out the heavy artillery. It didn’t seem fair to Nate somehow, but she had to get Sadie to pay for a ticket. “Sadie, you don’t understand. He’s dangerous. He brandished a…”
The door swung open and slammed against the wall. Nate staggered inside, holding a bloody cloth to his forehead.
“Oh my God,” Charlie said.
He bent over the sink and pulled the cloth away. A bloody gash sent a rivulet of blood down his pale face.
“What?” Sadie sounded panicked. “What was that? What did he brandish? A knife? A gun? Charlie, are you all right?”
“I have to go.”
“But if he’s dangerous…”
“I was—I was joking, Sadie. I have to go.”
“That’s not funny, Charlie.”
Charlie looked over at Nate. The side of his face was streaked with blood.
“I know,” Charlie said. “It’s not funny at all.”
One Fine Cowboy
On sale now
Also by Joanne Kennedy
Cowboy Trouble
One Fine Cowboy
Cowboy Fever
Tall, Dark and Cowboy
Cowboy Crazy
Cowboy Tough
Cowboys of Decker Ranch
How to Handle a Cowboy
How to Kiss a Cowboy
How to Wrangle a Cowboy
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Cowboy Summer Page 38