Destiny Wears Spurs Page 6

  He frowned. The last time he’d let a pretty face draw him in, he’d wound up married, cheated on, and divorced. A hell of a price to pay for being someone’s pastime until they grew bored. No way would he get involved with another “temporary” woman who didn’t even live here.

  He straightened his shoulders. “I expect to see you first thing in the morning. Don’t be late. I wanna judge for myself whether you’re fit to work or not. No argument.”

  Her lips parted, but then she snapped her jaw closed and put on what he now recognized as her game face. “I appreciate you giving me another chance.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone deserves a second chance.” A hint of humor tinged his voice. “Stay out of the manure pile, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  “No argument here.” She grinned and then grew serious. “As difficult as it is to admit, you were right about me not being fit to work on a cattle ranch.”

  “I never said that.” He averted his eyes.

  “You didn’t have to. I could tell it’s what you thought the first time we met. I’d like to blame the Colorado air--not nearly enough oxygen around here--but I can’t. I’m so out of shape. Have you ever seen anyone so pathetic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Name one person.”

  “Me.” He chuckled. “You may close your mouth now, Miss Hammond. It’s really not all that shocking.”

  “But you look so ... I mean, your body’s so ... and look at your ... and then there’s your ....” She devoured his body with her eyes, and his pulse picked up speed, then she waved her hands in the air. “Well, you’re just so darn big, that’s all.”

  He chuckled. “Everyone who rides a horse the first time experiences some degree of soreness, and I gave you one heck of a ride, little lady.”

  She flushed pink.

  “Believe me; you’re not out of shape. Anyone with a brain knows better than to go off half-cocked, doing chores she has no business doing in that condition. Not to mention trying to ride a horse when she doesn’t even know which end is up.”

  She frowned, and her game face returned. She had gumption, he’d give her that. “How are the muscle cramps?” he asked.

  “Better,” she admitted. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you have any Ibuprofen?”

  “In the bathroom.” She started to whip off the sheet.

  He yanked the covers up to her chin. “I’ll get the goddamn pills. You keep your fanny in bed.” He marched to the bathroom. When he returned, she looked away. “Your medicine and water are on the nightstand. Get some rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” she snapped.

  “Remember. Sunup. Don’t be late.”

  She remained stoically silent.

  He swore as he strode out of her cabin and slammed the door. Storming down the hill in record time, he muttered every curse he’d ever heard. Crazy woman had no right being mad at him for yelling at her, she was the one trying to drive him insane with desire.

  His wife had been just like Monica. Sweet. Funny. Spunky. She’d been one of Cassie’s dudettes, and he’d fallen for her instantly. A real class act, all dainty and feminine, but he’d soon discovered she wasn’t at all suited to ranch life. She had to have everything her way, and never did anything on the ranch except flirt with his men.

  Cody would never forgive himself for being duped, and he sure as hell wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If being a little harsh would keep him from falling for Monica, then that’s exactly what he’d do.

  By the time he reached the barn, he’d cooled off somewhat. The men would return soon. It’d take a miracle to finish cleaning up the mess she’d made and feed Buggy. “Hell, she’s even roped me into calling the calf that ridiculous name.” He grunted in exasperation. This was going to be one long summer. Luckily, conquering impossible tasks was his specialty.

  * * *

  A couple hours later, Cody sluiced water over his face and bare chest, stepping back from the wash-stall. He ran a towel through his wet hair, then slung it around his neck and adjusted his jeans. Jovial laughter erupted from inside the barn. His men were back, and by the sound of it, they were razzing someone good. Curiosity got the best of him. He headed in through the back of the barn, skidding to a jarring halt. His men stared at him in the oddest fashion.

  Apparently, he was that someone.

  “What?” He lifted his hands, palms up.

  “Like you don’t know.” Jake snickered.

  “No, I don’t.” Cody dropped his arms to his sides and inspected his body. Maybe he still had manure on his ass. He was surprised he’d managed to clean the barn at all, given the state Monica had put him in.

  Hank leaned forward and sniffed, flashing a grin. “Is that my cologne? You dirty dog, you.”

  Damn, he must still stink. Cody inhaled deeply but only smelled the pungent scent of spice. He normally didn’t wear cologne and had only borrowed Hank’s to ensure the scent of manure wouldn’t linger on his skin. “Quit clowning around, boys. I’d like to finish getting dressed.”

  “Bet that’s not what you said a couple hours ago.” Hank elbowed Jake in the ribs, causing him to snort in glee.

  “Couple hours ago, I was taking care of business like you should be.” Cody shook his head, pushing past them and heading to the tackroom in no mood to banter.

  “Oh, I plan on taking care of business soon. How ‘bout you, Russ? You gonna take care of business tonight?”

  Cody turned around and narrowed his eyes. They couldn’t possibly know what had happened.

  “Maybe.” A crooked grin hooked the corner of Rusty’s mouth, tilting his dark mustache. “Depends on the business that wiggles my way.” He winked.

  “I’m talking about work,” Cody clarified.

  “Get used to it, son. A man always does all the work.” Jake sighed, and a grin split his weathered old face. “But what sweet work it is. Ain’t that right, gents?” He cackled.

  “You got that right, partner.” Rusty tipped his hat.

  Cody cursed under his breath. “Look, Miss Hammond isn’t here because she wasn’t feeling well, so I took her back to her cabin.” He stared them down. “That’s all I did.”

  “Whatever you say, son. You’re the boss.”

  Jake whistled as he slapped his hat on his head, shielding his dancing eyes. Hank stuck his tongue in his cheek, poking out a dimple. Rusty ran his hand over his mouth, smoothing his grin.

  “That’s right. I am the boss, and that’s what I say.” Cody spun around, almost making it to the tackroom, when a soggy bundle slapped against his back and thudded to the floor.

  “You might wanna make another pit stop, boss. Awful gentlemanly of you to take the pretty little filly back to her cabin ... buck naked.” Hank’s voice purred behind him.

  Chuckles and snorts rang out.

  Well, hell. Cody had forgotten Monica’s clothes. No wonder they didn’t believe him. Doing an about-face, he headed out to the bunkhouse with long, purposeful strides. Screw the wash-stall. He needed an ice cold shower, maybe two, and he’d never make it to the homestead. Picturing Monica “buck naked” tended to do that to him.

  “Where you off to, boy?” Jake got out between snickers.

  “None of your damn business,” Cody hollered back and kept walking, while roars of laughter rang out behind him. He had the niggling sensation it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a couple cold showers to get rid of what ailed him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wendell Thorndike walked down the hall of Hammond’s Advertising Agency from his office to Stanley’s with renewed hope. Monica must be failing miserably, just like he knew she would. Her father had finally come to his senses. That had to be it. That better be it.

  Wendell rapped on the doorframe with the back of his knuckles. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Come in. Have a seat.” The old man looked up, nodded, and then continued to rifle through a stack of papers on his desk.

  Wendell sat in the
brown leather chair on the other side of the massive oak desk and waited. He would wait forever for Stanley Hammond; in fact, he already had. He’d waited a long time to see this man take a fall for what he’d done.

  Wendell took in the floor-to-ceiling shelves, littered with expensive books and priceless works of art. Thick burgundy curtains framed massive windows, which let the afternoon sun stream in and warm the room. He shifted, and his Italian shoes sank into the plush beige carpet. Soon this would all be his to destroy. It was only a matter of time. Hammond’s daughter wasn’t capable of running it, so why shouldn’t Wendell have it? He was the real protégé.

  “Gretchen, would you bring me coffee,” the old man raised his brow, and Wendell nodded, “and one for Mr. Thorndike?”

  “Right away, Mr. Hammond,” a young woman’s voice filtered out of the intercom on the desk.

  “Thank you.” He let go of the button. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Thorndike.”

  “Take your time, sir.” It was no secret Hammond wanted him to take over the agency. He’d even encouraged him to propose to his only daughter. Probably his way of keeping the business in the family. He’d been disappointed when he heard the engagement had been called off, but he’d still planned to appoint Wendell as CEO. That is, until Monica said she wanted the position. Wendell had been shocked when Hammond had actually agreed to give her a shot. If Monica succeeded, it would ruin everything.

  Wendell couldn’t let her do that.

  Gretchen came in to set a tray on the corner of the desk. Wendell helped himself to a cup, doctoring it with a generous portion of cream and sugar. Anger shot through him as he thought of Monica. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the engagement ending. He’d never wanted to marry her, but he would have done it anyway. He had planned to divorce her as soon as he had an heir and was firmly embedded in running the company. Then he had planned to find a way to ruin Hammond once and for all, and he still did.

  So long as no one found out his true identity.

  “So, Thorndike, what’s the latest on Worldwide Pharmaceuticals?” The old man glanced up at him, then he fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat back in his chair.

  “Everything’s on schedule. The FDA should give their approval for the drug launch any day now. We’ve slotted Worldwide right before Mr. Rafferty in the timetable to launch their ad campaign, and they’re happy with everything so far.”

  “Good, good. Make sure they continue to like our work. Keep me posted if any problems arise. I want them to stay happy. They’re our biggest client.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Good.” The old man took another sip as he stared at him, studying him until he felt like squirming. The guy had been acting different ever since Monica had left.

  “Was there anything else you wanted to see me about, sir?” Wendell tried hard not to fidget.

  “No, that’s it. You can get back to work now. Unless there’s something you want to talk to me about.”

  “No, that’s it for me.” Wendell set down the cup he’d barely touched and stood. Heading for the door, he paused before stepping into the hall. “Any news from Monica?”

  Her father’s gaze snapped up and locked on Wendell’s, his eyes narrowing. “She’s fine, Thorndike.”

  “Just thought maybe she might have confided in her old man on how she’s doing.”

  “What’s the matter, afraid of a little competition?”

  “Not at all. I’ve worked hard for this position, and I admire you tremendously, but I understand. She’s your daughter, after all.” Wendell understood, all right. He headed back to his small office with the drafty windows and cheap carpet. He understood it was time to take matters in his own hands. If she did a good job, he became dispensable.

  Monica had surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to last this long. She was a decent executive, but she couldn’t write a slogan worth a damn, and she sure as hell wasn’t CEO material. She certainly didn’t know anything about living in the country. That alone should have done her in on day one.

  Somehow, she’d held her own. Dammit, he deserved the promotion more than she did, and by God he’d find a way to make it happen. He was smart. He’d gone to Harvard on an academic scholarship, and he’d handled plenty of accounts, unlike Monica. The only advantage she had was Hammond as a last name.

  He would make a few calls, pull some strings, and make things happen. Glancing at the Rolodex on his desk, an idea hit him. He knew exactly what to do, and Monica would help him dig her own grave.

  * * *

  “Mornin’, Cookie,” Cody said to the cantankerous old cattle ranch cook as he strolled into the cookshack. He tossed his Stetson on the long harvest table as he slid onto the bench.

  Festus jumped a foot, like he’d been branded on the backside with a hot iron. The cook’s real name was Festus, but the boys called him Cookie to annoy him. He enjoyed the bantering, but he’d sooner eat a two-headed snake than let on.

  He jerked around, scowling, and his long, white beard swung in the breeze. His lined face crinkled into a lopsided grin when he saw Cody. “Land sakes, boy. I didn’t recognize yer voice. Ya gave me quite a fright.” His grin slipped, and he wiped his hands on his apron. “You startin’ on the spruce up?”

  “Nah. Not sure what I want to do yet.” More like “can’t make the place look too profitable,” but he hadn’t told anyone the whole truth about his deal with Hammond. No one but he and Hammond knew the deal was phony. That alone should tell him what he was doing was wrong, but he owed the man. And he knew if his old man were alive, he would have done the same.

  The cook stopped fidgeting with his apron and stood a little straighter. “Not sure what to do? If’n ya ask me, it’s a no-brainer. This place needs work from the tackroom to the toilets, sonny.” He shook his head. “Whatcha doin’ here? It’s a might early fer vittles, ain’t it?”

  Looking away from the curiosity he saw in the cook’s eyes, Cody shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to get an early start.”

  Festus snorted.

  Cody had come to breakfast early to avoid any more ribbing from his men. He couldn’t tell them what had happened in the barn. Monica was mad as a hornet that he’d yelled at her. You couldn’t pay him enough to stir up that nest any more by telling his men she couldn’t handle her job.

  “I’ll rustle up some coffee and start them vittles.”

  “Take your time.”

  The cook waddled out the door, making a beeline for the ancient chuckwagon. Cody grinned. Taking in the sparkling modern kitchen that never got used, he chuckled.

  Normally, they only used the chuckwagon when on the road, like during roundup, but Cassie had outfitted it with all the newest gadgets for the dudes. Cookie had taken a shine to it. Cody’s grin slipped. He thought of all the things his ranch lacked compared to the newer, bigger dude ranches popping up all over Colorado. Rooms twice the size of his cabins, with all the latest amenities like high-definition, flat-screen or plasma TV’s, hot tubs, twice as many excursions and more ranch activities. Better horses, bigger herds, more help.

  The list went on and on.

  Based on his income, there was a definite market for people interested in small-town atmosphere, cozy cabins, and country charm. But he wanted to progress with the times. Spread the word that Rafferty’s Remote Ranch was a dandy place to be. He should write his own damn slogan. It sure as hell couldn’t be any worse than the ones Monica had come up with. She frustrated the heck out of him most of the time, but he had to admit, she made him laugh. She was the only one around who refused to take orders from him.

  The cook returned with a pushcart loaded with steak, eggs, toast and coffee. The mouth-watering aroma set Cody’s stomach to growling. “That oughta do it. Think I’ll join ya.”

  “Help yourself.” Cody dug into his meal with gusto.

  “What’s this I hear about some woman on the ranch?”

  Cody choked on his first bite. He took a swig of his coffee, his gaze lo
cking onto the old timer’s face. Forcing the food down, he slowly lowered his fork to the table.

  Festus continued, sniffing with distaste. “I know. It’s probably just a rumor. Them boys is always tryin’ to get my goat. I told them, the boss don’t cotton to no greenhorn woman bein’ nowhere’s near a cattle ranch, but they--”

  “They were right.” Cody watched the cook’s jaw fall open. “I had no choice. Besides, I gave my word. I can’t break it. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but a woman? Shoot, some city slicker ranch hand was bad enough, but a woman? A country gal like Cassie is just fine, but some flaky-as-a-buttermilk-biscuit ‘city’ woman ain’t got no business on a cattle ranch. Mark my words, there’s a storm a-brewin’, just waitin’ to erupt.”

  “It may already have.” Cody stared down at the table. He did not want to be around when Monica found out his men thought they were sleeping together. “I made a deal with her father.” He looked Festus in the eye. “I intend to keep it.”

  The cook opened his mouth, looking ready to argue further, but snapped it shut. Throwing his arms in the air, he shook his head, grumbling, “Lord help us all. The boss’s done made up his mind. Once that happens, tryin’ to change it is like tryin’ to find udders on a bull.” He sat down to sulk.

  Cody ate the rest of his meal in silence.

  “Well, I’d better get on out and start them vittles fer the boys. They sure are a hungry bunch in the mornin’.”

  Cody glanced at the wall clock, surged to his feet, and then plopped his hat on his head. “Thanks for the grub. Tell the boys not to linger. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

  The cook nodded, stroking his beard. Cody turned away before he could question him further but heard his parting shot as he opened the door. “Yep. No doubt about it. A storm’s a-comin’. From the looks of it, a mighty big one.”