Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance (12 page)

Another dramatic sigh. “Do you happen to need a roommate?”

I threw my arms around her.

She laughed as I cried. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

T
he next morning came way too soon. Harper and I were up until three o’clock in the morning, talking about everything. We talked about her job. We talked about the ranch.

We talked about Clay.

Of course she saw my side and totally got why I was so angry. But she also wanted to give Clay the benefit of the doubt.

“Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he doesn’t want this ranch,” she said as she sat cross-legged on my bed at about midnight, the carcass of a carton of chocolate ice cream lying between us. She took a break from licking her spoon to add, “I mean, if he already owns a butt ton of land, why would he need more?”

“Can millionaire land tycoons have too much land?” I shot back.

“Sure they can. They still have to pay taxes on it, right?”

She had a point, one I hadn’t considered before now. “Still, even if he doesn’t want the ranch, that doesn’t explain why he’s been such a dick to me.”

“Men are naturally dicks.” Harper sighed like the lead actress she used to be in school. “And who do they treat the worst? The girls they like. I mean, look at my ex. Do you remember how he treated me when we first met?”

I did, now that she’d mentioned it. I’d forgotten how she’d ranted about him all the time.

Harper made some good points. But I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. For one thing, if Clay didn’t want me to fail, why make it impossible for me to hire help?

Regardless of my suspicions, we both agreed I should go see him today. And so we dressed, swallowed a gulp of breakfast, and charged outside to dig into our chores. To my total shock, a truck bumped up the driveway just as we were heading to the barn to get started. The truck wasn’t Cockroach’s.

Harper’s brows jumped. Her jaw dropped as her eyes tracked the vehicle’s driver as the truck traveled past us. “Who is
that
?”

“That was Mike. And I don’t know why he’s here.” With Harper hot on my tail, I scurried toward the truck, now pulled into a parking spot and shut down. Behind me, I heard the crunch and pop of another vehicle coming up the drive. I suspected it was Cockroach. Stopping next to the driver’s side door, I beamed a grateful smile at Mike. Since firing Clay, I hadn’t had access to a mechanic. There were a lot of jobs waiting for him. “Good morning! Surprised to see you here today.”

Mike’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between me and Harper. His smile cranked up to the blinding wattage of a tropical sun at noon. “Yeah, the other job wrapped up early, and Walker said you could use some help.”

“You can say that again,” Harper piped in. She thrust out a hand, hello-there-stud grin sparkling from ear to ear. “Harper,” she said.

He accepted her hand and gave it a shake while plopping his hat on his head. “Mike.”

“Good to meet you,” she said, checking him out from boots to hat. “Are you a real cowboy? You know, like do you ride bulls and stuff?”

“Sometimes.”

“
Wow
, that’s sexy,” she purred.

His responding laugh was sexy. “Most of the time I’m just a mechanic. Which isn’t so sexy.”

“That depends,” I piped in. “If your car’s dead and you’re desperate, a mechanic is the sexiest man in the world.”

Mike chuckled again and shrugged. “Was just doin’ my job.” He cocked his head, indicating what I quickly realized was a long line of approaching vehicles with Cockroach’s leading the train. “No different than the rest of the crew.”

The crew! They were here! All of them.

Well, almost all.

Clay wasn’t coming.

Harper clapped her hands over her gaping mouth. “What’s this?”

“The crew,” I said, so happy to see them I almost jumped up and down like a toddler who’d just won a trip to a toy store.

“I thought you said you were desperate for help?” she asked, brown eyes practically popping out of her skull. She leaned in to me. “These guys aren’t just men, they’re fucking gorgeous men! What the hell? Did you hire every male stripper in the state? Holy shit! I’m never leaving here! Never!” She flung her arms around me and squeezed all the air out of my body. “I fucking love you! I fucking love Wyoming!”

That made two of us.

I
didn’t even recognize the Walker ranch as I drove up the driveway. It was so different now.

Back when I’d first met Clay, the old-as-dirt wood frame (shack) house had been a gust away from becoming firewood. That building, with all its late Victorian charm, was gone. And in its place was a rambling brand new, gorgeous brick and stone ranch house.

I was so freaking jealous!

And impressed.

How did Clay go from poor farmer’s son to flipping millionaire? He hadn’t even gone to college. Hell, he’d barely graduated from high school.

Yet somehow he’d managed to keep his family’s ranch afloat when so many others had either shut down, gone belly up, or sold out to bigger outfits. But, seeing the major upgrades he’d made on his family’s ranch, he’d not only managed to keep the ranch afloat but had also turned a
healthy
profit.

Now I was beginning to see why my aunt had asked him to work on her ranch. Clearly she wasn’t doing it for him. He didn’t need the pittance he was being paid.

She did it for her ranch. He knew how to turn a failing ranch around.

That made sense. A lot of sense.

However there was still that issue with the crew. Why did they walk off the job when I’d fired Clay? And why wouldn’t he tell them to go back once I asked him to come back? If he wasn’t out to make the ranch fail so he could take it over, what was that all about? He’d said (or had he?) that the crew worked for him, wherever he said. So why wouldn’t he simply tell them to keep working for me?

If Clay was up for it, I wanted some answers. If not, I would have to wait. After all, he’d been shot on my property. By my employee. I wouldn’t push him.

With a million questions whipping through my head, I poked the doorbell and listened to the chimes play inside. Would Clay answer the door? Was he able to?

No.

And no. Evidently.

A beautiful blond woman answered the door. I couldn’t help noticing her banging body. This was not the typical trying-too-hard, fake-boobs kind of girl I’d seen Clay with lately. This girl was absolutely gorgeous. Even with her hair in a messy bun and barely any makeup.

“Morgan!” the gorgeous housekeeper yelled.

She knew my name?

Should I know hers?

I squinted and tried not to look like I was staring.

“It’s me, Carrie, though nowadays everyone calls me Caroline.”

Carrie? Carrie!

Oh.

My.

God.

The Caroline in front of me looked nothing like the Carrie I remembered.

Carrie had been quiet and bookish as a teen. With frizzy hair, bad skin and braces. And yes, her body had been... nothing like this woman’s. “Carrie—I mean, Caroline—I didn’t recognize you. Wow.”

“No problem. I’m used to it.” Her smile was so bright it would light up the entire freaking state. The new and vastly improved Carrie dragged me into the house by the elbow. She laughed. “I’ve changed a little.”

“Just a little,” I agreed with a nod.

“But not you. You’re as fucking beautiful as ever.”

Beautiful? I blushed at the compliment. I’d never known she thought I was beautiful. She’d never said so. Then again back then she hadn’t said much to me at all. “Well, thank you.” This Caroline wasn’t just different on the outside. She was different on the inside too. More confident and outspoken.

Leading me toward the back of the house, she said, “I’m assuming you came to see Clay?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’ve been meaning to come by to see you since you came back. But I’ve been a little busy.” She gave me an apologetic grimace as we meandered through the open space.

I gaped, awestruck by how magnificent this house and everything in it was. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. Or one of those fix-up shows. Harper would go downright bonkers if she saw this place.

From what I could tell the main living space was one massive open area, with the kitchen and all its spectacular appliances, gleaming countertops, and custom built cabinetry sitting smack dab in the middle. Whatever brilliant designer who’d designed the place had arranged clusters of comfortable but chic furnishings around the perimeter to take full advantage of the views. At the rear was a massive fireplace, flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows.

I said, “No need to explain. I stopped by your apartment one night.”

“You did? When?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I ran a fingertip across the cool marble counter. “Maybe a couple weeks ago? You weren’t home.”

“Yeah. I’m not home much these days.”

I caught myself staring again at Carrie. This couldn’t be the same girl that I knew four years ago. It just couldn’t be.

She gave me a look, the kind that said she was fully aware of my disbelief.

My face burned. How awful was I, making such a big deal out of her makeover? The fact was she hadn’t been ugly back then. The way I was acting, she probably assumed that was exactly what I thought. “Sorry. I’m just... blown away. You weren’t ugly by any stretch—”

“Never thought that dumpy, sad, shy girl would grow up to look like this?” she asked, indicating her body by swooping her hands down her sides.

“It’s more the change in confidence that’s caught me by surprise,” I corrected. That was it. It wasn’t the hair, which was now thick and glorious and frizz-free. Or the acne-free complexion. Or the movie starlet smile. Or the size zero dress she was wearing. It was the inner beauty that outshined all of that.

She nodded. “The outside stuff was easy to fix. The inside, not so much.”

“Not that you were pathetic or anything—“

“That was exactly what I was then. Pathetic. But not anymore.” She stopped, motioning toward the wall of windows. Upon closer inspection, the views were beyond spectacular.

I stepped forward. “Wow, this place is phenomenal.”

“Thank you,” a voice said.

Clay’s voice.

It came from my right.

A couch.

There he was. Lounging in a snug black tank shirt and pair of sweatpants. White bandages covered his shoulder. But if not for those bandages, he would have looked completely healthy. His color was much better than it had been when I’d seen him last.

His lip curling slightly, he started leaning forward, as if to stand.

I halted him. “No. Please. Don’t get up.” I sat across from him, in a leather chair that wrapped around my body like a full body hug. “How are you feeling?”

“He’s feeling like shit, but he won’t admit it,” Carrie piped in.

Clay slid his sister a warning glare. “I’m fine, dammit. I wish everyone would stop fussing over me like I’m an invalid.”

Carrie and I exchanged amused grins. Clay didn’t like being babied. Even when he needed it.

Boo hoo for him.

Carrie crossed her arms over her chest. “Not an invalid? Have you forgotten? You thought the laundry room was the bathroom last night.”

Clay’s flinty glare darkened. “I was sleepwalking.”

“You were not. You were stoned out of your mind on painkillers.”

“And yet you blame me for not knowing where I was?” he countered, his words slightly slurred.

“That’s just it. You’re still stoned out of your mind,” she said with a laugh.

Clay stood, wobbled. “Get out! Now! I don’t need you hovering over me like a fucking vulture.”

Now, that was harsh, calling his sister a vulture. I stepped between them. “Please, you two. Stop.”

“I can’t leave. Not when he’s like this,” Carrie pointed out. “He might burn down the house in his current state, smoking a cigarette in bed.”

“You’re fucking nuts!” Clay boomed, his face redder than my barn. “I don’t smoke.”

“You did last night,” she stated before turning to me. “And if you don’t believe me, check out the burn marks in his bed. Stupid bastard dropped a cigarette when he passed out and nearly burned down the whole place.”

What?

His face turned deeper scarlet. “Bullshit!”

“Clay, why would your sister lie?” I challenged softly. Evidently the painkillers were having some unexpected effects on him.

“I have no fucking idea.” He glared at her. “Why would you lie? Are you still mad that Pops left me the ranch instead of you? Is that what this is all about?”

“What would I have wanted with that dump?” she snapped back. “I told him to leave it to you. I didn’t want the fucking shackle around my ankle. You know that. You know I was planning on leaving this godforsaken shithole.”

This was a lot of family dirty laundry being aired. Suddenly I felt like leaving, so the siblings could hash things out in private. I cleared my throat and stood, but as I walked past the couch, Clay’s hand shot out and clamped around mine.

“No, you stay. Carrie’s leaving. Now. So she can go back to her glamorous fucking life. I won’t be a burden anymore,” he growled at her.

She waved her arm. “Whatever. You’re such an asshole.” Looking at me with an expression of absolute frustration, she rolled her eyes. “Good luck. Those drugs turn him into an absolute bastard.”

Sure looked that way. And lucky me, it seemed I’d just been volunteered to be his nurse-fucking-maid. Huh. Well, if there was a bright side to that, it was that I might get some answers to the questions zooming around my brain. There was that.

“Bye,
Sis
,” my patient yelled. “Great fucking family reunion!”

H
arper wasn’t heartbroken to learn I wasn’t coming home tonight. I had a feeling that was because of Mike. And Will. And Ben... and the rest of the boys.

She was single. Available. And Mike and Will and Ben were all really, REALLY attractive men.

Who could blame her, right?

So I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for abandoning her the first day she was in Wyoming. She was in good hands.