Wrangling the Rancher Read online

“He has plenty of money...for now,” Cal said, slapping down three kings and pulling in the pot.

  Dylan gave a snort as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge, then sat. He rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles. “I’m ready to be fleeced.”

  Cal rolled his eyes and passed the deck to Mike. “Hey...you said you were going to have to get someone new to help out at the store. Maybe Taylor, if she can’t find anything else.”

  Dylan and Cole instantly looked at one another, and Cole saw that Dylan’s thoughts were the same as his own. Fat freaking chance.

  Mike coughed. “Uh, yeah.” He stretched his mouth into a tactful smile and started dealing.

  “Taylor never really fit in with the locals,” Dylan said when Cal gave him a “what?” look. “She had bigger and better things planned than a life in the Eagle Valley.” He picked up his cards before saying under his breath, in a voice that only Cole could hear, “And she wasn’t shy about sharing that sentiment.”

  * * *

  “THEY’LL LET ME know on Tuesday.” Taylor handed Carolyn her drink. “It’s a big step down, but I can work my way back up. It sounded as if that’s what they expect me to do.”

  Carolyn gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she picked up her espresso. “If you were going to settle, I wish you’d done it in Seattle.”

  Taylor didn’t agree. What would it be like not to head out with Carolyn on their famous shopping expeditions? Or meet for drinks or dinner once a week? If she had to take a step down in pay, she was glad she wasn’t in the city she loved. This way she could pay her penance, then return to Seattle and resume her former existence—only this time with more savings and the sad knowledge that no one was irreplaceable, not even those who worked eighty-hour weeks.

  “Where would I have lived?”

  “It wouldn’t have been in a farm barn thing.”

  “Bunkhouse.” Taylor sipped her tea latte. “But it would have been something equivalent in Seattle, in neighborhoods I’d be afraid to live in.”

  “Roomies?”

  “Who?” Where would she find someone compatible to live with? It was such a crapshoot.

  She’d move in with Carolyn in a heartbeat, but her friend was locked into a lease on her studio for the next seven months.

  “Sell the Z?”

  Taylor sighed and set down her cup. “I’ve been so close...but...” It was stupid to be emotionally attached to a piece of metal. “I think it’ll be good for me to work my way up again. Gain new experiences.”

  “Live in the sticks.”

  “Missoula isn’t exactly the sticks. It’s got a lot to offer.” More than the Eagle Valley, even if it did have its share of the rich and famous. Most of the people of means who moved there did it to escape city life rather than bring it with them.

  “Will you move to Missoula?”

  “Just as soon as I get a nest egg built up. I figure six months of commuting and then I’ll get an apartment. Right now driving is cheaper than renting.” By a large margin, or she wouldn’t have considered commuting.

  They finished their drinks while chatting about people they both knew. Most of the staff who had been downsized with Taylor had also left Seattle for other cities, other jobs. Some had done what Taylor was about to do, accepting jobs at a lower level or in a different field entirely. One of their mutual friends had decided that this was the nudge she needed to head to LA and try her luck at acting.

  Taylor paid the tab, over Carolyn’s protests, saying it was only coffee and she wasn’t destitute. Max complained loudly from inside the SUV and scraped his claws down the side of the plastic cat carrier as they approached the vehicle. Taylor made a face.

  “His Majesty is about to take the kennel apart from the inside out.” She pushed her windblown hair back. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping him and bringing him to me.”

  “Least I could do.” Carolyn’s smile faded. “I miss you.”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Taylor promised, “and I’ll be back home before you know it.”

  Max let out a plaintive yowl. Taylor hugged her friend, then opened the car.

  “Tay...” Taylor looked back at Carolyn. “Call anytime. No matter what.”

  “You know I will.”

  * * *

  TAYLOR HAD DRIVEN away late Saturday morning as Cole headed out to the fields and returned to the farm midafternoon, parking the SUV closer to the bunkhouse door than usual. Cole stood at his kitchen window, eating a sandwich and watching as she opened the rear door and pulled out a large animal crate. It toppled awkwardly in her arms, and she struggled to lower it to the ground without dropping it.

  Taylor half carried, half dragged the crate to her door and disappeared inside. A moment later she came back and collected a box and then closed the hatch door.

  Taylor had a pet. Cat? Dog? Dragon?

  Cat. He vaguely recalled her mentioning a cat.

  He finished his sandwich then went to the slow cooker, where his dinner was simmering, and took off the lid. The one perk of the guest ranch was that he rarely had to cook for himself during the guest season, and during the slack times, he threw whatever was available into a slow cooker and let it do its thing. Tonight it was doing frozen meatballs in sauce. Pasta, lettuce, Italian dressing and a loaf of bread, and he was set. Not bad for a non-cook.

  He’d just put the lid back on the cooker when a knock sounded on the door. He set down the spoon he’d used to stir the sauce and headed across the kitchen, wondering what Taylor needed now.

  After he and Dylan had lost all their money to Mike and Cal, they’d shared one last beer in Mike’s living room while the old guys settled in for the news, and he’d been tempted to turn the conversation back to Taylor. But Taylor’s past was none of his business, and he had no reason to be curious. Still, he kept flashing on Mike mentioning that if Taylor wanted something, her grandparents made certain she got it. If Cole read things right, Karl now regretted overindulging Taylor. Cole certainly regretted it, but that didn’t stop him from being struck by just how good she looked standing there on his doorstep, her long blond hair falling around her shoulders instead of being caught back in an elastic or swept up in a bun-thing.

  “Hi,” she said in a voice that made him think that she was taking pains not to engage him in any way. “I’d like to go into the cellar via the back door, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.”

  She was three steps back down the walk before he could say anything else, which was probably a good thing, so he closed the door. Leaned against the counter. Stroked his chin, then headed back to the door and followed Taylor around the house and down the cellar steps. She already had the key in the lock.

  He stopped at the top step as she fumbled with the key. “How’d your interview go?”

  She continued jingling the stubborn lock until it finally popped free. “Good,” she said without looking up at him. “I hadn’t realized anyone knew about the interview.”

  “I guessed,” he said. “From the dress you wore.”

  “Ah. And have you guessed where I was today?” There was a note in her voice that put his back up.

  “I’m not spying on you. We live together, remember?”

  One corner of her mouth tightened before she pushed the door open and stepped into the dark cellar. A light snapped on, and after some scraping and general banging around, she reappeared with a largish empty wooden box. “Bed for my cat,” she explained. After setting the box down beside her, she relocked the door and slid the key under the flowerpot next to the step.

  “If you ever lock yourself out, now you know how to get back in—unless you pushed the slide lock at the top of the stairs.”

  Cole shifted his weight, and she let out a small snort.

  “You did, didn’t you? Well, you
never know when someone’s going to sneak into your house, steal a chair and go through your things.”

  “It was locked when I moved in.”

  “Ah.” He stood back as she wrestled the box up the steep stairs, but couldn’t keep himself from reaching out to take it as she got close to the top. Taylor’s hands dropped to her sides. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell people that I interviewed.”

  “Why? You’re here to get a job, right?”

  She shrugged carelessly, but Cole wasn’t getting a careless vibe from her. “I like to keep things to myself until they’re a done deal.”

  “It isn’t like people are going to make fun of you if you don’t get the job.”

  “I don’t like to advertise failure.”

  “You haven’t had a lot of failures in your life, have you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Did you look me up?”

  Caught. He’d been...curious. It was good to know one’s adversary.

  “Didn’t you do the same with me?” he asked, feeling certain she had.

  Her mouth twisted a little. “If I say no?”

  “You’ve got more willpower than I do. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “You don’t fail. Or rather you didn’t, until recently.” Mainly because she got a lot of help along the way. “What did you find out?”

  “That you are pretty much off the radar.”

  He liked things that way. “Yup. No newsworthy successes or failures. No arrests or convictions either.”

  “So I assumed, or Karl wouldn’t have let you on the place while I was here.”

  “Thereby saving you nineteen ninety-nine for the whole people-finder report?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where’d you interview?”

  She shook her head and started walking again, leaving Cole to carry the box.

  “You don’t think you’ll get the job?” he guessed.

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m going to get the job.” He tilted his head in a questioning way, and she drew in a breath. “I don’t talk about things until they’re settled. Good business practice.”

  “Or you’re afraid of jinxing yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of jinxing myself,” she snapped just a little too quickly. “And just so you’re mentally prepared, I’m not moving immediately.”

  “Why not?”

  She turned back toward him. “I have some catching up to do financially.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I assumed—”

  “Incorrectly, it seems.” She gave him a cool smile.

  “This wasn’t what we agreed on,” he said in a low voice.

  “How so?”

  “Karl told me you could stay here until you got a job. You just said you were going to get this job, therefore, you’re going to leave once you do.”

  She blinked at him. “That wasn’t the deal.”

  “It was. Trust me.” He leaned closer. “Better yet, call your grandfather. Ask him.”

  He watched her jaw set as she considered his words.

  “I leased a farm because I wanted to get away from people, not so that I could share my life with them. I entered into the agreement in good faith. I let you stay here temporarily for Karl’s sake. But what I really want is for you to make your own way in the world. Like everyone else.”

  “I don’t have the resources to move again immediately.”

  “How long do you need? After you land this job?”

  She quickly jerked her head to one side, giving him a perfect profile. “I’d planned to stay for six months.”

  He let out a disbelieving snort. “You need to alter your plan.”

  “You have no idea how costly it was staying in Seattle while I looked for work. I need those six months.”

  “And you have no idea how long it took me to save up to afford this lease.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to let me stay.”

  “And it wouldn’t kill you to stand on your own two feet.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched, but that was the only way he knew that the arrow had hit home. “I have always stood on my own two feet.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed. “You know nothing about me,” she said in a low voice.

  Not exactly true.

  “Kind of the way I want things to stay. I like your grandfather and wouldn’t hurt him for the world, but I’m not letting you take advantage of that fact.”

  She reached out and snatched the wooden box from him. He let go a little too soon and she almost lost her balance, so he reached out to take her arm. Her muscles tightened beneath his grip, but he didn’t let go. “I know you feel like you’re the one getting the shaft here, but Taylor, you’re not. This is business. I won’t be taken advantage of.”

  “I don’t understand how my being here results in you losing any kind of advantage.”

  “Imagine if you rented an apartment and the landlord told you that he’d arranged to have someone living in your closet. You could try to ignore them, but they’d still be there, encroaching on the property you’d paid for.”

  “I can’t afford to leave until I get a job.”

  “I know. That was the agreement. You stay until you get a job.”

  “I’ll need at least four weeks after that to get a paycheck and rent a place.”

  “Four weeks is agreeable.” It was a pay period. And giving her that was generous of him.

  She lifted her chin, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry or on the verge of tears. Maybe both. Maybe because she wasn’t getting her own way.

  “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  “Do you really believe that?” she muttered. She gave a small snort and then continued on past him, across the driveway to the door of the bunkhouse. She yanked it open with one hand, then shut it almost too carefully, as if doing her best to keep from slamming it.

  Cole shook his head and followed the walk around his house. He wasn’t the bad guy. He just wanted what he’d bought and paid for—privacy. And damned if he was going to let Taylor’s needs supersede his own.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TAYLOR’S JAW MUSCLES were aching by the time she closed the bunkhouse door and set down the box. Max peeked out from under the chair where he’d taken sanctuary, then trotted across the floor to jump into the box, crouching so that only his ears showed above the edge.

  “Wait for the pad, okay?” She bent to pick him up, noting that he must have gained at least a pound while in Carolyn’s care, and heaved him against her chest. He pushed his head against the underside of her chin, and she automatically sat so as not to have to keep supporting his weight.

  “Damn it, Max, we’re in trouble again.” Almost, because she wasn’t about to allow herself to get into trouble again. Yes, she would stand on her own feet, and damn Cole Bryan for telling her she wasn’t. He knew nothing about her, except for what he’d gleaned from the internet, and nothing there would bring one to draw the conclusion that she didn’t stand on her own.

  Which meant that he’d drawn the conclusion from other evidence.

  What evidence?

  That she’d assumed he’d fix the freaking hole?

  She didn’t think so.

  He’d come here for privacy, which made her wonder what he had against people. Nothing in her online search had clued her in to his past profession. Karl would know, but she wasn’t going to ask.

  Max started to purr, but it didn’t have its usual calming effect. Taylor closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. Yes, he’d definitely gained weight. Big cat. Big problems.

  Think positively. You’ll get the job, move out. Never have to see this guy again.

 
She’d also have to scrimp and make do, and you know what? She could do that. It made more sense to stay where she was, do battle with tan walls and judgmental farm-mates, but she would survive if she moved out in four weeks. She was lucky to have this place when she needed it.

  Taylor wrapped her arms around her cat, and he pushed his head against her neck as if to say, “Yeah. We’ve got this. We’ll be fine.”

  But where the hell did this guy get off judging her?

  “That’s his problem, not ours,” Taylor murmured. That didn’t mean she had to like it. She didn’t mind being judged as a professional, but to have someone take a dislike to you simply because you existed...

  Not acceptable.

  Not one blinking thing you can do about it.

  “Wine, Max. We need wine.” Taylor eased the cat onto the seat cushion as she got up, and he curled into a giant ball, settling his tail over his nose and watching her through round green eyes. It felt good not to be alone.

  It would feel better when they got their own place. Even though, deep in her gut, Taylor hated giving up and walking away without telling this guy a few home truths.

  * * *

  TAYLOR AWOKE EARLY on Monday morning, wishing that she could go back to sleep. The longer she stayed in bed, the more she tossed around. Finally she got up, leaving Max snuggled deep in the covers. She made coffee, tried to read the news on her phone, then finally, as the first bit of light showed over the horizon, got into her running gear. She didn’t know if her general sense of being unsettled came from the fact that she’d hear about the job this week, or because of her face-off with Cole.

  You need to stand on your own two feet.

  Where did he come off saying stuff like that?

  She had to stop thinking about it or she was going to march across the driveway and demand answers.

  She ran longer than usual, doing her best to exhaust herself and thinking that maybe she could catch up on her sleep later that day. After all, if things went the way she hoped, she wouldn’t have the luxury of midweek naps. She was just approaching the bunkhouse when her phone rang. Quickly, she unzipped her jacket pocket and answered without looking at the number.