Cowboy's Bride (2 page)

"Boston has snow," she said stiffly.

"Sure, but have you worked out in it for all
hours trying to save your herd?
Have you broken ice on the water
troughs or river edges so the cattle can drink, only to have it
freeze again before a dozen can get a drop?
Have you fought for the
lives of the calves born early in unexpected spring blizzards?
Worried about predators, rustlers and other hazards to a herd that
can wipe you out financially in an instant?"

Damn, it was a hard life, one a person was
born to, not sashayed in to as if it was a walk in the park.

"No, I haven't done any of that.
But don't
think discouraging me will change my mind.
I've always wanted to
live here on the ranch and now that I'm here, nothing is going to
make me leave.
If you want the job, temporarily, it's yours.
If
not, then I'll thank you for your assistance thus far and bid you
goodbye." She tilted her chin as anger flared in her eyes.
She knew
she had little experience, but she could learn, dammit, and she
would!

He hesitated a moment, then shook his head at
his own folly.

"I'll do it for a couple of weeks," he heard
himself say.
Hell!
He didn't want her getting another foreman.
He
wanted her gone.
He should be in his truck heading for his own
place.
He had no business tangling up with the new owner of the
Triple T.
He wanted the ranch for himself, not to run it for some
little city slicker from Boston.

He looked away, scowling at his reaction to
her.
The way she filled out those jeans was positively indecent.
She shouldn't be allowed outside.
He rubbed his hand across his
eyes, blinked in the bright sun.
She was Becky's size, and as dark
as he.
He liked tall, leggy blondes.

Yeah, like Alyssa, he thought
sardonically.

"Thank you.
Now, the quicker you can help me
get moved in, the quicker I'll be able to learn about being a
rancher."

"Yes, ma'am." He touched the brim of his hat
and climbed into his truck.
"See you at the house," he called from
the window as he started his truck and drove furiously across the
rough track, dirt spinning from beneath his wheels, dust plumes
wafting up in the still air.

Kalli watched him drive off, feeling drained
from the encounter.
She had thought it would be easier to get him
to help once she learned he wasn’t normally the foreman.
Instead,
she knew he'd only agreed under pressure.
And only for a couple of
weeks.
How much could she learn in a few weeks?
Enough to hire
competent help?
She didn’t even have a clue what a foreman or
cowboy earned.
Hastily turning to her new truck, she climbed in and
followed the dusty trail he'd left, her thoughts churning.

By the time she reached the house Trace had
commandeered two other men, Josh, whom she'd already spoken to, and
Jose.
All three pitched in to unload her truck.
In less than half
an hour she was moved in, boxes stacked in the living room.
Everything still needed to be put away, but she would do that
later, by herself.

"Thank you, gentlemen," she said when the
last box was placed near the stack.

"Pleasure, miss." Jose tipped his hat, then
escaped.

Joshua nodded, then glanced at Trace.
"That
all, then?"

"Yeah.
For the record, I'll be ramrodding
this place for a few weeks.
Until Miss Bonotelli comes up to speed
or sells.
Tell the others, will you?" His eyes danced in secret
amusement as he glanced over to his new boss.

Uneasily, Kalli smiled at him and Joshua.
"I'd appreciate any help you can give me, too, Joshua," she said,
ignoring Trace's comment about selling.

"Yes'm.
You'll need it.
Takes years to know
enough to run a ranch this size," he said dourly.

She blinked.
Years?
She had to learn faster
than that.
She looked at Trace in dismay.
She couldn't be around
this disturbing male who was already causing problems with her
equilibrium for years.
She was hoping it would only be a matter of
days—weeks at the most.
Turning to Joshua, she nodded, hoping her
disquieting thoughts didn't show in her face.
Had she bitten off
more than she could chew?

"Well, then I had better get started, hadn't
I?" she said briskly.

"Tomorrow.
We'll start tomorrow," Trace said,
moving toward the door.

"Why not now?"

Joshua continued out the door while Trace
turned.

"Because I have things to do.
I wasn't
planning on you showing up today.
You get settled in the house.
Tomorrow first thing I'll come by and we can decide what you want
to do."

Kalli wanted to argue, to establish that she
was the boss and would give the orders.
For that's what his
suggestion was, an order.
Yet it made sense.
She could get settled,
get a good night's sleep and be fresh tomorrow when they started.
She was tired from driving.
And some of the initial excitement was
fading as the reality of her situation began to sink in.
She needed
to recharge and regain her enthusiasm.

"Okay." Her eyes strayed to the hair brushing
his collar, then down the opening of the cotton shirt, across the
smooth expanse of muscles.
Down to his hard belly, bisected by the
waistband of his jeans.
Jerking her head up, she met his eyes.
Was
that awareness she saw there?
Desire?
The hot gleam in his dark
eyes disturbed, tantalized, drew her.

"I'll be here first thing, have breakfast
ready." With that he pushed open the screen door and strode across
the wooden porch, his boots ringing loudly in the still afternoon
air.
The footsteps slowly faded as he hit the gravel and then they
were gone.

Kalli stared after him.
Have breakfast ready?
Was that part of providing for a foreman?
Was he expecting her to
do the cooking?
For him?
For all the hands?

Narrowing her eyes, she turned away.
If he
thought just because she was a woman that she was going to cook for
him, for all of them, he had another thought coming.
She was a
great cook, but she hadn't left Boston to become a cook at her own
ranch.
She'd hire someone if they didn't already have a cook.

If she could afford it, that was.

She sighed, wishing she knew more about the
entire setup.
She had stacks of papers the lawyer had given her.
After she put away her things, she'd start going through them
all.

Still wishing she'd been more forceful in
dealing with her new foreman, she turned around to face the front
room, really seeing it for the first time in years.
The windows
were shaded by the porch roof, yet the room was light enough and at
least twenty degrees cooler than outside.
The furniture was solid
dark wood and plaids.
She and Uncle Philip had spent every evening
here.
It seemed smaller somehow than when she'd visited as a
teenager.
Of course the boxes took up a fair amount of space.
She'd
have to do something to brighten it up a bit—it was too sturdy and
masculine for her.

Yet Trace fit right in.
The thought came
unbidden.

She frowned.
She wasn't going to think about
Trace Longford any more today.
Or her strange reaction to him.
She
was used to being around men.
For heaven's sake, she had five
brothers, four older and one younger.
And as a nurse, being ordered
about by male doctors and interns was enough to cure any woman of
early infatuations with men.
She had plenty to think about with
settling in a strange home, out in the middle of a cattle ranch,
miles from stores, theaters and traffic.
She didn't need to think
about sexy Trace Longford.

***

The loud pounding on her bedroom door brought
Kalli instantly awake the next morning.
She sat up, suddenly
fearful.
Was there a fire?
An emergency of some sort?
Flinging off
the sheet, she hurried to the door and snatched it open.
Stunned,
she stared at Trace Longford.
He was fully dressed, his hat in one
hand.
Clean shaven, hair combed, he was obviously ready for work.
Leaning on his forearm braced against the jamb, he loomed over her,
his gaze raking her as she held onto the doorknob, her heart
pounding.

"What's the matter?" she asked
breathlessly.

"Nothing, just looking for you, that's all.
It's almost six.
I came first thing, like I said.
Where's
breakfast?"

She stared at him.
Then looked over her
shoulder, out her window.
Dawn was just breaking.
A glance at her
clock showed it was indeed just six o'clock.
She turned back in
total disbelief.

His eyes skimmed her bare legs.
She was
suddenly aware of her skimpy sleeping attire.
The T-shirt belonged
to one of her brothers.
Faded and soft after countless washes, it
molded her figure like a second skin, ending mid-thigh.
Conscious
that her hair must be a mess, that she was probably still flushed
from sleeping and that there was only the thin layer of cotton
between her and this man, she stepped back a foot, swallowed
hard.

"I'll be out in a minute," she said and
slammed the door in his face as heat and tension filled her.
Breathing hard, she tried to infuse some strength into her weak
knees.
She felt as if he'd touched her with his hands, not just his
eyes.
Her heart beat rapidly, and her breath came shallow and fast.
Heat built deep inside.
What would it feel like to actually have
him touch her?
Run his hard hands up her thighs, pull her hips
against his?
Feel that warm, smooth copper skin against hers?

"Oh, God, don't let me develop a crush on a
cowboy."

She turned away to find her jeans and get
dressed.
Aware that only the thickness of the door separated them,
she hurried to the bathroom and closed the door.
Locked it.
As if
that could lock out the images of them tangled together that played
in her mind.
She really wished she could just touch him for a
moment, see if he was as hard as he looked beneath those muscles.
See if that skin was as warm and taut as it appeared yesterday in
the glittering afternoon sun.
Splashing cold water on her face, she
tried to drive away the images skipping around in her mind.

When she was dressed in jeans and a yellow
cotton top, hair brushed to soft, dark, silky waves caught in a
clip and left to hang down her back, she ventured into the kitchen.
Trace leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, legs
crossed at the ankle, waiting as the coffee machine filtered the
brew.
The fragrance permeated the kitchen.
Sunlight was beginning
to fill the room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

He looked up when she entered, his eyes dark
and mysterious as he stared at her, not at all embarrassed by
taking over her kitchen.
By filling it with his presence.
His hat
rested on the counter.
His hair shone as black as her own, but
straight, not wavy, with none of the reddish highlights that
gleamed in hers.

"Make yourself at home," she said
sarcastically.

A smile touched his lips and then
disappeared.
"Thought you were anxious to start learning how to run
a ranch," he said easily, unaffected by her sarcasm.

"I am, but at six in the morning?" she
protested.

"There's a lot to do on a working ranch, and
in the summer the morning's the coolest time to do it.
The men are
all up and eating now.
Thought we could eat breakfast together and
go over what you want done, what you want to learn.
Plan the day,
then get started.
That's what Philip and I did when he was
sick."

She knew it made sense, but at six
o'clock?

"Who feeds the men?"

"Charlie Pearson.
You have four hands.
Charlie cooks for all of them in addition to his other duties.
Joshua takes care of the horses and helps out in other areas.
Jose
and Tim mostly take care of the cattle, the fencing, the water
holes."