A Bride for Christmas
Автор
Jill Kemerer
Прочтений
16,0K
Глав
40
Chapter One
He hadn’t ranched in four years, but the tug of cowboy life always beckoned.
Clint Romine slowed his truck to study the magnificent property splayed before him. Well-maintained fences lined the perimeter and divided areas for rotating stock. Acres of grazing land, fields for hay production, barns, cabins, outbuildings, paddocks—all appeared neat and orderly and only a ten-minute drive from Sweet Dreams, Wyoming. Rock Step Ranch was everything a cattle ranch should be. And more. If Clint’s interview went well, he’d be in charge of this entire outfit.
Unease slithered down his neck. Was he fit to manage it?
His mistake haunted him. A slip in his judgment. The death of a dream. But owning a ranch wasn’t the same as being hired to manage one. Four years ago, he’d had everything to lose. And now? There was nothing left for him to lose. He’d already lost it all.
Clint drove into a gravel lot near the barn and paddocks, cut the engine, and stepped out. Mountains stood proudly in the distance, and the wind held the bite of early November. Cowboys shouted from the cutting pen. Looked like they were weaning calves. He longed to slap on his chaps and join them.
After watching for a few minutes, he checked the time and forced himself to stride toward the main house. A two-story log home with a covered porch, a pair of rocking chairs and a faded mat greeted him. Before he knocked, he paused to pray.
Lord, I’ve made mistakes. I don’t deserve my own land. But if You’ll give me the opportunity to manage this operation, I’ll try not to let You or the ranch down.
Clint stretched himself to his full height and rapped twice on the door. It opened almost immediately, and he stared into light brown eyes the color of the pronghorns he often saw bounding across the land.
Alexandra Harrington had grown into a beautiful woman.
He wasn’t in her league—had never been in her league. When he’d found out she was the one hiring, he’d been concerned about working for his former classmate. Attraction complicated the employer/employee relationship. When he’d worked on LFR Ranch, a cowboy had been fired for flirting with the owner’s daughter. But now that he’d seen Alexandra, his fears disappeared. A smart, successful, stunning woman like her was out of reach for a working guy like him. Not that he needed to worry about it. Rumor had it you had to spend time with a woman, get to know her, to have a shot at dating her. He had no intention of spending time with her, let alone dating her.
“Thanks for coming, Clint.” She ushered him inside, and once he’d taken off his outerwear, he followed her down a hallway to a large living room with views of the river. The hardwood floors were in bad shape. Scratched. Faded. Three rocks were missing from the stone fireplace climbing the wall to the ceiling. From somewhere nearby, the drip, drip of a faucet fought to override the sound of a ripped screen flapping against a window. Even the air had the stale tang of neglect.
Strange that the outbuildings, fences and property were in top-notch order, but this house had been allowed to fall apart.
He turned his attention to the woman he recognized from high school. Still slim in dark jeans and an oversize white sweater. Long, dark brown waves spilled over her shoulders. Her pale face held high cheekbones, full eyebrows and thin pink lips. But Alexandra wore sad the way he wore regret—it permeated her, surrounded her—and he had the strongest urge to take it from her. Which was a laugh, since he had no idea how. He’d never been around many women and probably never would be.
He did know what it was like to suddenly have no family, though. Her father had died three weeks ago. She had every right to be sad.
She took a seat on an old tan couch, motioning for him to sit opposite her, and he obliged, his cowboy hat in his hands.
“Dottie Lavert mentioned you might be interested in managing the ranch for me.” Her words were quiet but firm. “As you know, Daddy died unexpectedly, and I need someone here sooner rather than later.”
He nodded, not knowing what to think of the way she was fingering the bottom edge of her sweater. Was she nervous? No. This was Alexandra Harrington. Vice president of their senior class, organizer of proms and dances and who knew what else.
“I remember you from high school,” she said. “You worked on a ranch then, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” He was surprised she remembered him at all. His one goal in high school had been to be as invisible as possible. As a teen, he’d poured all his energy into keeping his spot at Yearling Group Home for teen boys. The Laverts had been hired to run the group foster home. Back then, Big Bob Lavert kept the boys in line while his wife, Dottie, cooked their meals, made sure they did their homework and accompanied them to church. Too bad Yearling had shut down several years ago. It had helped a lot of kids like him who had nowhere else to go.
“From your résumé, I see you’ve been working for the oil company.” She smiled, her expression open, expectant. “And before that you worked on LFR Ranch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Call me Lexi.”
Lexi? He couldn’t call her Lexi. Couldn’t even think of her as Lexi. Too familiar, too accessible. Alexandra had the right amount of remoteness for his liking.
“I learned about calving, grazing, hay production, keeping the books and maintaining the property from my years at LFR.” He paused, unsure how much more to tell her. If he confessed how he’d left LFR and then been duped out of his own tiny piece of Wyoming, she’d boot him right out the door. And if he admitted he’d spent four years avoiding working on a ranch because it had hurt too much to be surrounded by what he’d lost, she’d think he was crazy. “I’ve been working for the oil company for four years now.”
She picked up the top paper from a stack on the end table next to her. “Yes, I see you were promoted three times in as many years. Impressive.”
Impressive? Him? If she only knew... He hoped she didn’t ask about the six months between LFR Ranch and the oil company. If asked outright, he wouldn’t lie to her. And he didn’t want to return to his mind-numbing job.
“I need someone I can depend on to do all the things my father did. I own a wedding planning company in Denver. I’ve already told my employees I’ll be living in Wyoming at least until Christmas. To put it simply, my business takes all of my time. If running my company from here proves too difficult, I’ll have to move back to Colorado. In that case, I’d come to the ranch once a month or so. I need someone here who is self-motivated. Someone who can delegate work to the ranch hands. Someone I can trust.”
Could she trust him? Did he trust himself?
She continued. “The next question might seem forward, but I have to know. Do you drink?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing, clearly unconvinced.
“I’ve seen what it does to people and have no desire to try it.” He held her gaze. “I like to be in complete control of my faculties. At all times. I’ll take a drug test if you’d like.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She massaged the back of her neck. She looked tired. More than tired. Exhausted. “You’re not the first person to be considered for this position. I hired a man last week who had a problem with the hard stuff. What a disaster he turned out to be. Daddy’s right-hand man, Jerry Cornell—you’ll meet him in a little while—found him at noon on Saturday still lit out of his mind, sitting in the river in his drawers when he should have been working. When I called him into the office, he had the nerve to tell me not to worry my ‘purdy’ little head about it. Needless to say, I had to let him go.” She got to her feet and started pacing. “He’s fortunate he didn’t get hypothermia.”
Clint strangled the hat between his hands. He’d worked with plenty of cowboys who drank too much. The fact one of them would disrespect her made him want to rope the jerk up.
She spun to face him, chin high. “This is my home. The only thing left of my childhood and my parents. I have ranch hands and their families depending on me for their income. If keeping this operation profitable and in tip-top shape isn’t your number-one priority, you will not work here. It’s that simple. And, in case I didn’t make it clear, I have the final say in all ranch decisions.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could keep a ranch in tip-top shape. But profitable? He’d made a bad financial choice years ago. What if he made one again?
She sighed then, her body sagging as if someone had let the air out of her. “I’ll take you out to meet Jerry. He’ll show you around and feed you lunch. When you’re done, come back up here and we’ll talk.”
Good. She was a take-charge woman unafraid to be his boss. The firmer the line between employee and employer, the better. As long as he made wise decisions concerning the cattle, he could spend his days doing what he loved best—living the cowboy life.
Working for the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on.
Living the single cowboy life.
Pretty or not, no woman would want a man who’d been stupid enough to get swindled out of the one thing he’d ever wanted—a ranch of his own.
“Well, Jerry, what do you think?” Lexi sat on a stool in the ranch manager’s office adjoining the stables. The room smelled of dirt, large animals and burned coffee. Everywhere she looked, she found clutter of the male kind. Ropes, broken bridles, spray cans full of who knew what, stained papers and tools. Her office in Denver was painted the pale pink of a rose petal and smelled of magnolias. She missed it.
Which brought her back to the three-week-old question...why was she still here? After the funeral, she’d packed her suitcase with every intention of driving back to her life in Denver. She hadn’t made it off the property before turning around, filled with the sensation she was deserting the place, the same way she’d deserted her father to focus on expanding her company.
Where did she belong? Here with her memories or back in the city with Weddings by Alexandra?
“Clint’s a good ’un, Miss Lexi.” The wire-thin man scratched his chin and scanned Clint’s résumé. “His former bosses paint him as a fine man.”
She thought as much, too, but it was reassuring to hear it from Jerry. She tapped a pen against her chin. “Any reason you can think of why I shouldn’t hire him?”
“Nope.” He rolled the paper and smacked it on the plywood counter.
Taking it from Jerry, she uncurled it. Perused it once more. “What about the gap between jobs? It was four years ago, but...”
Jerry shook his head. “A lot of cowboys have periods they can’t account for.”
“Really? Why?”
“Ah...well...these are lonely parts up here in this blessed country. You know those wild horses that run wild through the north property now and again?”
“Yes.”
“Some cowboys are like those horses. They don’t like to be fenced in. Something snaps, and they leave. Could be due to a lady. Could be a sense they need to move on.”
Clint was the wild horse in this scenario, but he seemed quiet, steady. She bit her tongue. She’d been listening to Jerry’s parables her entire life, and they tended to meander.
“Now some of the boys take their savings and go off and live awhile. Figure things out. Get close to the land and their maker...”
It made sense. Everyone needed time to figure life out now and then. Wasn’t that what she herself was doing?
“...but the restlessness clears up, and they settle down right fine.”
She hopped off the stool. “Okay, Jerry, I’ll take your word for it. Send him up to the house when Logan brings him back.”
“Will do.” He gave her a nod. “Oh, and Miss Lexi?”
“Yes?”
“The Florida fella called again. Wants to know if he can count on us for hay next winter.”
Lexi tucked her hair behind her ear. One of her father’s pet projects had been to start growing high-quality hay to sell to horse farms and other large-animal breeders across the nation. He’d built the new storage barn in the spring and begun negotiations with various buyers. But the drought conditions coupled with low calf prices last year prevented him from purchasing the necessary equipment to produce the square bales. Putting up high-quality hay had been postponed until next summer.
“I don’t know the answer. It will depend on the price we get for this year’s calves.”
“I’ll call him and tell him we’ll know more in a few months.”
“Thanks, Jerry.” She left the office, savoring the fresh air as she headed back to her house. Between the ranch and her business, there seemed to be an endless list of problems. For weeks, Lexi’s assistant, Jolene Day, had been texting her every three minutes with an urgent crisis. Two clients had called earlier with major changes to their weddings, and the invitations Lexi had ordered two months ago were still on back order.
And then there was the ranch. Daddy had been the spine of this operation, and without him? If she didn’t find a take-charge manager, she would have to sell Rock Step Ranch. She couldn’t manage both, and she’d rather have someone else own it than let Daddy’s legacy fade to ruins.
Just thinking about selling made her nauseous. This was her home. Her memories.
As she reached the path leading to her house, a gust of wind blew her scarf across her face, and she swept it back. Clint seemed to be the perfect candidate for manager, but if she were brutally honest with herself, he presented a new dilemma. One he couldn’t help.
He was gorgeous.
And tall. Solid muscle. Quiet.
The gorgeous part was the problem.
She’d never expected to be attracted to him. She barely remembered him from high school. In fact, she couldn’t recall having a single conversation with him back then. How had she overlooked him? He had thick, dark hair begging to be touched, and his midnight blue eyes seemed to notice everything. He was as fine a physical specimen as she’d ever seen.
A rugged, handsome cowboy.
Thankfully, he was all wrong for her. The strong, silent types were perfect for managing a ranch, but as far as dating? Not likely to sweep her off her feet any time soon.
She opened the front door and took off her coat and boots before heading to the living room and sitting on the couch. Her cell phone showed missed calls and texts, but she only checked the one from Jerry. Clint was on his way.
Even if she hadn’t been overwhelmed trying to make double the business decisions as usual, she couldn’t imagine dating anyone at this time and certainly not Clint. She wanted romance with a capital R, and after Doug, she’d decided under no circumstances was she settling for ho-hum. She wanted breathless kisses. Heart-pounding anticipation. A man who loved her enough to make a grand gesture or two. Someone who valued marriage and wanted kids.
She wanted more than any guy had offered her so far, and Clint, for all his curling eyelashes and silky, touchable hair, seemed too reserved to be that guy.
Besides, she had to hire him. She was out of options. She’d interviewed five men for the job, hired one, fired one. With the drought and extra expenses from the new barn, the ranch needed someone with experience who understood how to manage its resources wisely. And after losing Daddy, she couldn’t bear to lose her home, too.
A knock on the door startled her. She opened it, once more struck by Clint’s blue eyes. She waved for him to follow her into the living room.
“Well, what did you think?”
He perched on the edge of the chair, hat in hand. “It’s a fine operation. Jerry’s done a good job running it since...well...” His eyebrows drew together, and he cleared his throat.
“Yes.” She clasped her hands tightly. Thinking about Daddy being gone formed an instant lump in her throat, one she’d gotten adept at ignoring. Somehow she needed to find a way to get over the pain of losing him that had taken up permanent residence in her heart. “Jerry’s been a blessing. For many years.”
“Why don’t you have him manage it?” The question was simple, open, pure curiosity.
“He doesn’t want to. His wife’s been asking him to slow down. He’s getting older. Said I needed a long-term solution. And Logan isn’t interested, either. He’s the most experienced full-time ranch hand, but he only plans on staying here a year or two more. He and his wife want to move back to Casper after they save enough money to buy a house.”
Clint nodded, a lock of hair dipping across his forehead. She forced her attention to her raggedy fingernails. Flipping through the papers she’d left on the end table earlier, she found the list she’d typed.
“Jerry and I discussed it, and we think you’re right for the position.” After naming his salary and benefits, she went over his duties and wrapped it up with living arrangements. “We have a few empty cabins, a two-bedroom guest house and a three-bedroom manager’s house. Logan lives in the manager’s house with his wife, Sarah, and their children. She’s the ranch cook. If you’d like, I’ll ask them to move, but...”
“No.” He shook his head. “One of the cabins will be fine.”
“Does this mean you’ll take the job?”
“I’ll take it.” His eyes glinted, reminding her of a wild storm on the prairie, all lightning flashes and black clouds rolling in the distance. Spectacular. Exciting.
Maybe Jerry was onto something with the whole wild horse analogy. And maybe Clint wasn’t as reserved as she’d originally thought.
“When can you start?” she asked.
“When do you need me?”
“Yesterday.” She sighed, waving her hand. “Sorry, it’s just been hard on the crew. They’ve all had to step up and take on way too much responsibility here for weeks now. I know you need to give your employer notice and—”
“I’ll move in this weekend and start Monday.”
Just like that? She wanted to raise her fist and yell, “Yippee!” but she said a silent prayer of thanks instead. “Perfect. As for the living arrangements, I appreciate you allowing Logan and Sarah to stay in the larger house, but I insist you take the two-bedroom guest cabin. You’re in a position of authority here, and your lodging should reflect it.”
He nodded.
“Do you have any questions?” she asked. “Any concerns?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Clint, we graduated high school together. Ma’am makes me feel like I’m a hundred and fifty years old. Call me Lexi.”
“I don’t know if I feel right doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if you’re going to be my boss, I think it should be more formal.”
“I will be your boss, but we’re going to have to be comfortable enough with each other that you can come to me with any problems. We’ll be meeting weekly on Thursday mornings to discuss the ranch. I might not be involved in the daily operations, but I am very invested in its future.”
“I’m glad to hear that. This is your ranch. You should be invested.”
“Exactly. Jerry has paperwork for you to fill out. I’ll meet you down there in half an hour to show you to your new home.” She held out her hand. “Thanks, Clint, for coming today. Welcome aboard.”
The warm strength in his callused hand assured her she’d chosen wisely. He dipped his head and left. As soon as the front door clicked shut, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her hand trembled as she filled the cup. She kept forgetting to eat. Maybe a piece of toast to go with the tea...
How had her life changed so drastically? One minute she was on top of the world, succeeding at her dream job. The next, plunged into the abyss of her father’s death.
Six months. That’s how long it had been since she’d visited Daddy. He’d appeared to be in fine health in May. They’d ridden on horseback around the ranch the way they always did. She’d had no idea he had cancer.
Had he known?
Of course not.
If he had known, he would have told her. She would have come back, gone to the doctor with him, made sure he got chemotherapy and radiation and anything that would have saved him. But they hadn’t known. And now it was too late.
Why didn’t I make more of an effort to come home this summer? He must have been sick. Must have had some symptoms. And I wasn’t here to notice.
Her throat tightened the way it had repeatedly since she’d gotten the call from Jerry saying her father had died.
When she’d told Clint this ranch was the only thing left of her parents and her childhood, she’d meant it. And she wasn’t about to lose it, too.
As Lexi gave him the tour of the two-bedroom log cabin, Clint mentally tallied a to-do list. It was dusty, but the open area with the kitchen, dining and living room was larger than his current apartment’s, and the master bedroom had a nice view of the mountains. He planned to take his coffee first thing each day on the covered porch. Frankly, it was the nicest place he’d lived in and, even unfurnished, it felt like home.
Home. A sense of foreboding killed his good mood. Had he ever belonged anywhere? If he started identifying this place as home, he’d lose it, the way he’d been torn from every other place where he’d felt comfortable.
He needed to remain detached.
At least the main house was up the lane far enough for him to maintain a necessary distance from his boss. Other than weekly meetings, he saw no reason why they would need to see each other.
“The river’s great for fishing, and feel free to use the ATVs anytime. If you need help moving in, just holler. I’m sure one of the ranch hands would be happy to lend a hand.”
“Yes, ma’a—” He caught himself. “Thank you, Miss Lexi.”
She leaned against the kitchen counter and glared. “Clint, Jerry, who is seventy-five years old, calls me Miss Lexi. It’s Lexi. Just Lexi.”
He itched to smile, but she looked paler, more tired than she had earlier. He studied her more closely.
Thin. Too thin. Dark smudges under her eyes. Cheekbones jutting out. Her clothes hung on her. Was she eating enough? Or at all?
She had the look of someone who’d had to be strong for too long. It reminded him of moving into his first foster home after his grandfather died when Clint was six. Even though Grandpa had been mean as a rattler, when the man passed, Clint knew deep inside he was all alone in the world and his life would never be the same. Did Lexi feel alone, too? He wanted to tuck her under a blanket on the couch. Protect her.
He shook his head. Him protecting her? What a laugh. She didn’t need someone like him.
She stepped forward and wobbled.
“Have you eaten lately?” He moved closer, ready to catch her if she fainted.
“What?” She blinked, shaking her head, and swayed. He reached for her, steadied her.
“Come on, I’ll take you back. You need some food.”
“I’m fine.” Her protest sounded weak. “I had some toast a little bit ago.”
“It’s five thirty. You need a meal.” He kept a loose hold on her arm and led her to the door. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped. “Zip up. You don’t want to catch cold.”
To his relief, she didn’t argue. She zipped her coat and fell in beside him. When they reached the house, he followed her inside. A napkin with a half-eaten piece of toast lay on the end table. Probably the only food she’d eaten today.
“Sit on the couch, and I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I couldn’t ask you—”
“I’m not driving back to Cheyenne on an empty stomach. I’ll make some supper and get out of here.”
She sat on the couch, looking lost. “Okay.”
He opened her fridge and pantry. Chicken broth, noodles, frozen carrots. “Are you saving the chicken in the freezer for anything?”
“There’s chicken in the freezer?”
He chuckled under his breath. “I’m using it.”
After opening cupboards and drawers, he had a good idea of where everything was stored. He chopped an onion, defrosted and diced the chicken, and heated oil in a frying pan. He filled a large pot with the chicken stock and set it on the stove to boil.
Lexi crept up and sat on one of the bar stools opposite him. “What are you making?”
“Chicken noodle soup.”
“Really, you can cook?”
He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be here, in her house, going through her kitchen. It was too intimate.
She wiped her fingers across her forehead. “I never really learned.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried to stand by the patio door as she answered the phone.
After stirring the chicken frying in the pan, he tracked her moves. Voice bright and confident, hand reaching for the pen and paper on the coffee table. Phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled something. When the call ended, she seemed to deflate, and he quickly turned away.
“I forgot to mention I’ll be out of town next Thursday through Sunday. It’s the final wedding I’m in charge of for the year. My other planners are organizing the rest.”
“Okay.” He slid the cooked chicken into the boiling pot along with the noodles, onions and carrots. A pinch of salt and pepper, and he dialed the burner down to simmer for a while. “If you don’t cook, what do you do for meals?”
“Well, in Denver, I order a lot of takeout. I’m usually working late, anyhow.”
“But you’re here. And there’s no takeout.”
“I manage.”
Not very well, from the looks of it. He doubted she’d eaten more than a bowl of cereal all week. “Why don’t you eat with the rest of the crew?”
She grimaced, shaking her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable, and neither would they.”
She had a point there. “You mentioned a cook—Sarah, right? She would probably fix you a plate.”
Lexi shrugged, a wistful expression in her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.”
He could tell she had no intention of asking Sarah for a meal. He’d stop over at the manager’s house soon and have a quick chat with Logan and his wife. One of the hands could pick up a meal from them to drop off at the main house each night. Whether Lexi ate it or not wasn’t his concern.
Her phone rang again. She smiled an apology and answered it, walking away. He couldn’t imagine a job with constant phone calls. He stirred the soup, decided it was ready, and ladled out a bowl for her. She was sitting in a chair, saying something about bouquets and cost overages. He’d done his duty. Made her food. She wouldn’t even notice if he left without eating. Sharing a meal with her seemed a little too cozy at this point.
But as he sneaked out to his truck, his mind kept returning to her and the bowl of soup he’d left. He didn’t want her fainting. Didn’t like that her clothes were hanging from her.
She’s not my problem.
He’d been hired to manage the ranch, not the ranch owner. Sure, she was alone and grieving and not taking proper care of herself, but fixing it wasn’t within his realm.
As he drove past the paddocks, he barely noticed the property that had so mesmerized him earlier. He’d better get his focus back on the cattle and the land where it belonged. He’d finally gotten the nerve to try working on a ranch again. He couldn’t make another mistake and ruin this, too.
