Destiny Wears Spurs (10 page)

From now on, nothing but work. She began with the stall closest to the barn door and peered over the edge. Cody’s fierce-looking black stallion. Wonderful. She chewed her lip. “Okay, big fella. You be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you.” Placing her fingers on the stall door’s latch, she opened it wide and then hopped back.

The horse stood there, watching her with one ear twitching. She wasn’t about to enter the stall. If the boss didn’t like it, he could lump it.

She stepped on an overturned bucket, climbed on top of the gate, and attempted a whistle. An airy, out-of-tune note erupted. The horse shook his head and snorted, making her laugh. “My father gives me that same look.”

Facing the stall with her back to the barn door, she bent her knees and slapped her palms on her thighs. “Here, boy. Here, boy.”

The stallion refused to move.

“Look, mister. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” She snapped her fingers and pointed behind her without looking and then made kissing noises. “Come on horsy, horsy, horsy.” That didn’t produce results, either, so she blew out a breath that fluttered her bangs.

She felt like an idiot, but darn it, she would
not
botch things up again. She had to touch the horse. That long rope thingy she’d seen the cowboys use hung on the wall, so she snatched it up and approached the beast tentatively.

He blinked at her, nothing more.

She could live with that. As she clipped the rope onto the halter around his head, he just stood there, thank God. Well, that wasn’t so bad. Feeling encouraged, she pulled on the rope and tried to lead him out of his stall, but he planted his feet and wouldn’t move. She had known the rope thingy was too good to be true. It didn’t work, darn it all.

Maybe she was using the wrong rope.

She pulled harder, but he dug his hooves in deeper and blew raspberries at her. Great. Mustering courage she didn’t know she had, she pitted her measly hundred and ten pound frame in an unsuccessful game of tug-of-war against a horse which had to weigh as much as her convertible. The black demon’s neck stretched a little, but he didn’t move. In fact, she could swear the horse was grinning.

“Are you done playing games, Miss Hammond?” Cody asked from behind her.

“Oh, please, not again,” she muttered to herself, as she whirled around with telltale heat painting her cheeks. Jake stood behind Cody, gulping down chuckles, and Hank stood beside Jake, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Rusty simply stared.

Cody raked his fingers through his thick hair, sliding his palms over the rugged planes of his face. “Miss Hammond, what did I ask you to do?”

His eyes snapped open. “Defective? Trust me; it’s not the rope that’s defective. You’re different, all right, and creativity doesn’t have squat to do with it.”

Before she could say a word on her behalf, he emitted a shrill whistle and then said in a commanding voice, “Outside, Babe.” The stallion tossed his mighty head and followed him out to the corral.

The useless rope thingy trailed behind him.

* * *

Monica turned to Jake in surprise. “That beast’s name is Babe?” She vaguely remembered hearing Cody say that name but hadn’t made the connection until now. Whenever he drew close, her brain ceased to function.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Jake replied. “Guess we thought you knew that. I was wondering what in tarnation you were doin’ in here, and why the devil you didn’t just call his name. Babe always comes when his name’s called. Ain’t that right, Rus?”

“Yep.” Rusty’s eyes sparkled.

“We’d better go. The boss is waiting,” Jake said as he led the way with Rusty by his side.

Hank fell into step beside Monica and rested his hand on her back. “The horse’s name is Babe because he’s one big baby. You’ll get the hang of things around here. You need any help, just say the word.”

“If you two are finished, I’d like to get started,” Cody hollered from inside the pen.

She smiled and focused her attention on Hank. “Thanks. I may just do that.”

He winked, his twin dimples gracing his cheeks as he swaggered over to Jake. Meanwhile, Monica headed straight for the corral, setting her jaw along the way.

“I see you forgot your hat again. Too busy flirting, no doubt.” Cody spared her a quick glance, hefting the heavy saddle onto Babe’s back like it was a toy.

“Excuse me? I was
not
flirting. Hank was only being ‘helpful’.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He grunted.

“For your information, I did bring a hat, but I forgot to bring it outside when I stopped to say hello to Buggy.”

“Who? Oh. The calf,” he scoffed, continuing to tighten the strap thingy around his horse’s belly. “Run on in and get your hat. I don’t have all day to be ‘helpful’.”

“Yes, sir.” She stormed back to the barn. Ooh, he knew exactly what to say to make her want to throttle him. She retrieved her hat, and moments later, she came to a stop behind him as he spoke to his men.

They tipped their hats to her and then rode out into the pasture. Cody stared after them until they were out of sight. He turned to face her, stared at her hat, and frowned, looking frustrated. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but closed his jaw tight.

She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, and his chiseled features softened as he looked at her. When he reached out, she held her breath, helpless to move away. Hesitating by her cheek, he stroked her with the pads of his fingertips and brushed a ringlet behind her ear. “What am I gonna do with you, Miss Hammond?”

“Whatever you want,” she whispered, barely speaking.

“More slogans?” he mumbled, looking as dazed as she felt.

“Slogans, right. Whatever you want, I can give it to you here at Rafferty’s Remote Ranch,” she murmured, looking into his eyes, spellbound.

Clearing his throat, he reached up and flicked the rim of her hat. “You call this a hat?”

She touched the brim, trying to think professional thoughts. “It’s all I had, Mr. Rafferty. It seemed okay earlier, but now, I see what you mean.” She squinted up at the blazing sun. A large pink flower pinned up the narrow rim of her silly straw hat in the front. Tiny decorative holes that would do nothing to prevent the hot sun from burning her scalp covered the rest of the hat.

She glanced back at his face, overcome with the urge to mimic his actions. Standing on her toes, she reached up and rested her palm against his whisker-rough cheek and then trailed her fingers through his thick dark hair. “I guess what I need is a hat like this one,” she said breathlessly and stroked its brim on the side.

He leaned into her touch, and she caressed his ear. After a moment, he jerked himself to his full height and cleared his throat. Twice. A tiny slice of vulnerability flashed in his eyes before he looked away.

He’d touched some small place in her heart that made her want to hold him in her arms and tell him everything would be all right. She almost reached out to him again, but that irritating wall slammed down over his face once more.

“I have an extra hat in the tackroom you can use. It might be a bit big, but it should work. I’ll come back early if I can to show you how to saddle the horses.” His voice was all business as he finished saddling Babe in a blur, then he swung into the saddle and looked down at her one last time.

“Just do what you can while I’m gone.”

Her dream man had vanished, and her purely professional boss had returned in full force. It was what she wanted, but that didn’t stop disappointment from flooding her. She squelched the feeling and reminded herself this couldn’t happen between them. She had a job to do, and then she would be gone. The sooner she set that straight, the better. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she tried again, but he cut her off with a mumbled curse. Without another word, he wheeled Babe around, and she watched them move into a gallop across the pasture.

“What on earth have I gotten myself into?” She shook her head and did the only thing she could. Got to work.

* * *

A while later, Monica walked into the barn carrying the cardboard box the crotchety old cook had given her. She set her burden down on a shelf in the tackroom and, with a smile, stuck the sugar cubes and carrots in her back pocket. Evidently, he’d heard about her problem with the horses and tried to help her in his own gruff way.

The old softie.

She began to suspect he was more like Santa than he’d ever admit. Chuckling, she picked up her lunch and one of the bottles and then strolled into the barn to pacify the frantic calf she’d named Buggy. Calves were supposed to be soft and fuzzy looking, with beautiful big brown eyes and cute little faces. Buggy’s fur looked more like a brillo pad--short, rough, and thin in spots. And his eyes went beyond big, to the point of bugging right out of a way-too-narrow face. He was so ugly he was absolutely adorable … and completely unwanted.

She could relate.

“Okay, okay. I’m right here.” She opened the stall gate, and Buggy almost knocked her down in his haste to get to the bottle. “Easy, sweetie. Babies aren’t supposed to drink too fast, or they get gassy.” Frankly, she didn’t have a clue how to burp a calf.

Once Buggy realized the bottle wasn’t going anywhere, he relaxed. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he finished the milk. Kneeling, she leaned against the stall and ate her apple as a warm sense of pride and accomplishment washed over her.

She’d done it. She’d actually finished a chore without messing it up. Hallelujah. On top of that, she’d found something else she could use in the ad for Rafferty’s Remote Ranch. Bottle feeding a calf. Who didn’t love babies?

The phone rang. She got to her feet and walked toward Cody’s office but then thought better of it. Taking messages didn’t sound like it fell into the realm of “barn duty.”

The answering machine clicked on and, as much as she was dying to eavesdrop, she couldn’t drown out the remembered sound of her father’s voice admonishing her not to be rude. She turned around and took one step but then froze. Shock waves rippled through her.

It couldn’t be.

“Mr. Rafferty, this is Wendell Thorndike, future CEO of Hammond’s Advertising Agency,” the cultured, carefully measured tone of her ex’s voice poured out of the answering machine. He was always in control. She curled her hands into fists.

“And your title is
Second in Command
, moron.” He wasn’t a future “anything” yet, and he never would be if she had her way.

He continued, “There’s been a change in the timetable. We’re moving the release date of your ad up by three weeks, providing you decide to go with our agency.”

“What?” She jerked as if he’d physically punched her in the gut. There had to be a mistake. The snake must be trying to sabotage her. No way her father would do this.
No way
.

She sprinted into Cody’s office, hurled herself across his desk, which sent papers and a stapler crashing to the floor, and then yanked up the receiver. “Wendell!”

“Monica? What on earth are you doing answering the phone?”

“What are
you
doing lying to my client?”

“Client? Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? Who says I’m lying, darling?”

“I’m not your darling, that’s for damn sure. Once Rafferty chooses my proposal, you’re history.” She forced a calm she didn’t feel into her voice, when all she wanted was to reach right through the line and scratch his eyes out. “Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of your career in the industry. If you back off, I won’t blackball you. I just don’t want you anywhere near my father’s company.”

“You haven’t won yet, darling. As far as the timetable goes, things change. Worldwide Pharmaceuticals is our biggest client, so naturally, they come first. There was a glitch with the FDA approving their new drug, so the launch date had to be moved back. Rafferty’s Remote Ranch is next in line. This is hardly news to you, Monica. You have to learn to be flexible if you’re going to be CEO.”

“You try being flexible with an obstinate, stubborn, pigheaded mule,” she muttered. Damn. She regretted saying those words the second after they slipped out. She certainly didn’t need to give the worm on the other end of the line any more ammunition. And she didn’t buy his “glitch” angle for a minute. “I
am
flexible, Wendell. It’s just this client is a bit, um, picky. I’m working on him.” Cody didn’t like any of the ideas she threw at him. Admittedly, she didn’t like her ideas, either, but she wasn’t about to tell that to her ex-fiancé, Mr. I-Only-Asked-You-To-Marry-Me-To-Get-In-Tight-With-Daddy-And-Then-Ruin-Him.

“Aw, poor Monica. Things getting a bit ‘tough’ for you? You can always come home where you belong. Why don’t you leave the big boys to those of us who can handle them?”

There was a time when Wendell had stood beside her, had worked with her on campaigns. A time when he’d been there for her, no matter what. Or so she’d thought. But that time was over. It had ended the day she’d discovered his deception. The day she’d found out she had never really known him at all.

“You won’t win, Wendell. I can handle this big boy just fine,” she snapped, glancing out the door to check on the calf, almost dropping the phone. He’d gotten loose while she’d been distracted by the call. “Uh, three weeks early. Got it.” She slammed down the receiver with relish, hoping it gave Wendell a headache, then sprinted over to Buggy and caught him before he escaped out the barn door. But not before he ran into a wall and bawled in pain. So much for not messing up this chore.