Destiny Wears Spurs Page 7

  * * *

  Monica hurried her steps, running late again. She halted several yards away from the cookshack, not wanting to intrude, but not wanting to miss breakfast. A pudgy little man stood outside in the morning sunshine, grumbling.

  “The boss ain’t the only one actin’ strange this mornin’. Why, them boys wouldn’t even argue with me. Too busy carryin’ on about somethin’ I know nothin’ about. That don’t sit right with me, no sir, it don’t.

  “It ain’t any dern fun when the boys ignore me, no sir, it ain’t. Why, they can tar and feather me ‘fore I let some no-account, meddlin’ female stir up a hornet’s nest the size of Texas. You just wait till I see ya, girly. Why, I have a mind to put ya over my knee and--”

  “Good morning. I take it you’re Festus,” she sang out, knowing darn well she was the “girly”.

  Hopping a foot, he swung his snowy head around, a snarl etched across what she could see of his tanned, wrinkled face. The rest was hidden behind the longest and whitest beard she’d ever seen. He could have been jolly ole St. Nick’s alter ego.

  “Yer darn tootin’ it’s Festus to ya. Don’t you be forgettin’ it, girly. Breakfast is over. You’ll have to eat the leftover vittles. Next time ... be on time.”

  “I’m truly sorry. I pride myself on being prompt,” she said with a smile. “It’s only recently I seem to have a problem in that area.” She thrust out her hand. “I’m Monica Hammond, but please, call me Mo.”

  He narrowed his eyes to slits and gnawed his thin bottom lip. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook her hand.

  “I don’t want to be a burden. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll fend for myself,” she continued.

  “Ain’t nobody touchin’ my things. Wait right here,” he grumbled without much bite in his words this time, as he waddled away and disappeared into the back of an ancient chuckwagon. A pleasant breeze wafted to her nose, carrying with it the appetizing aroma of bacon and eggs. When the cook reappeared with arms loaded, she clapped her hands.

  A working chuckwagon. She couldn’t believe it.

  His lips turned down as he stared at the cold eggs, undercooked bacon, burnt toast, and strong coffee he carried. “Girly, it sure don’t take much to please ya.”

  She charged past him and peered inside the back of the worn-down wagon. The inside sparkled with modern appliances and burst at the seams with supplies.

  “Do you really cook out of this?” She glanced over her shoulder and watched him hesitate and then nod.

  “Wow. I can’t believe this is real. I thought you only used it for show. Very cool.” Now, this was the kind of stuff she could use for the advertisement. Monica created the layout for new brochures in her mind and then turned a bright smile on Festus when she remembered he stood behind her.

  His complexion glowed as red as Rudolph’s nose, and he squirmed. “If yer done lookin’, you’d better take yer breakfast and get a move on. Them boys’ll be wantin’ to head out pretty soon.” His voice cracked.

  “You’re right about that.” She snatched the toast and coffee and then headed toward the cattle barn, glancing over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Festus. Thanks for being so kind.” She gave him a small wave and watched the red spread from his nose to his ears.

  “Bah.” He shooed her off, waddling around and disappearing once again into the back of the old chuckwagon.

  Monica continued walking. She had a feeling his bluster was all for show, but she couldn’t help liking the old scrooge, and suspected he might like her, too. Though he’d probably never admit it. Now, if she could only get her boss to like her, things would be much easier. That was the only reason she wanted him to like her, she told herself.

  When she’d told Wendell they were through, he hadn’t seemed surprised. But when she told him she’d be the one taking over her father’s company, he’d been shocked. He didn’t even try to deny what she’d heard, because he knew she couldn’t prove it. And he didn’t seem worried in the least that she could pull off this proposal. He’d actually had the balls to laugh at her. Laugh at her. It still lit a fuse in her.

  She maneuvered her way around some kind of rusted plow thingy, and took a sip of coffee while she walked, grimacing. The dark brew could peel paint off a barn. She glanced up at the barn in the distance. Scratch that. The faded red paint had already peeled off ninety percent of the building. No wonder Cody needed advertising. His business obviously wasn’t doing that well, and this place could definitely use a face lift. It must kill him to see his pride and joy falling apart.

  She sighed, wishing she could feel the same intense drive for running her father’s company that she felt when she flipped through her sketchbook. But she’d wanted to be a part of her birthright, so she’d focused her attentions on the art department. She couldn’t live with herself if she sat back and did nothing to stop its destruction, even if her stubborn father refused to believe her. Part of her liked the idea of sticking it to Wendell.

  Squaring her shoulders, she marched the last few steps to the barn. “Good morning,” she said as she strolled inside, sipping bitter coffee and polishing off burnt toast.

  “You sure are mighty chipper this morning,” Jake commented with mischief in his voice. “Thought you’d be more tired with all the work you did yesterday, and all.”

  Her neck heated. They must’ve heard about the mess she’d made. “I feel pretty rotten about making Mr. Rafferty do all the hard work, but today I think my body might be able to handle the job. Guess I need to learn the proper technique.”

  Jake sputtered. “Didn’t know there was a proper technique.”

  “There must be because Mr. Rafferty finished a lot quicker than I could, and still managed to do other things.”

  Jake looked like he’d swallowed his tongue, Hank’s eyes bugged like a bullfrog’s, and Rusty chewed a piece of straw, studying her in that knowing way of his.

  When Jake found his voice, he asked, “Since when is finishing quickly good?”

  “Isn’t that the point? Do a good job and get done as quickly as you can? Time is money, after all. As long as everyone’s satisfied with the results, how can anyone complain?” she asked.

  Okay, Jake was about to have a heart attack by the looks of it. And Hank’s eyes were beyond bugging, they were nearly out of their sockets now. Rusty coughed and the straw fell out of his mouth. She began to wonder if they were on the same wavelength or even on the same train of thought.

  “Well, I’ll be. I’ll have to ask the boss about this ‘proper technique’ that pleases women in less time. I sure could use it on my Izzy. Why, that woman--”

  “Whaaat?” Oh, good God. Like she would ever talk to them about that. “Whoa, wait a minute. Back up the tractor, cowboy. I’m talking about the proper technique for barn duty, guys. Nothing more.” She didn’t even have to be with Cody for him to fluster her. He had an uncanny knack for making her look like a moron without even trying.

  “Barn duty. Right.” Jake flashed the boys a wink.

  She rolled her eyes. No way was she mentioning the massage. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Hank.”

  “Just a little tired.” He smiled, his dimples sinking deep. “Stayed out too late practicin’ a technique of my own.” His lips slanted into a crooked grin. “Only, there wasn’t anything ‘proper’ about it, darlin’.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes with a thumb and finger, letting loose a satisfied sigh.

  “I see.” They weren’t going to let her off the hook. Choosing to ignore him, she glanced at Cody’s office. Where was he? Like a skip in a record, she kept returning to how angry she’d been after he’d left her cabin yesterday.

  So much for remaining professional. The man wreaked havoc on her emotions. One minute he had her lusting after him, the next, she wanted to throttle him. Getting along with him took more energy than she’d realized, but she hadn’t expected this to be easy. When she woke up this morning, feeling wonderful because of his ministrations, she’d vowed to
try harder. From now on, she’d remain professional even if it killed her, and she’d thank him by coming up with a slogan that would kick the competition’s booty.

  Speaking of booties, she smiled as inspiration hit her. The cowboy appealed to women physically. She’d prove to Cody that he--or the cowboy, rather--made a great fantasy man. Women would come from all over if they marketed this right.

  Maybe she’d even give him a peck on the cheek to throw him off balance and prove her point about cowboys being irresistible. Not because she wanted to kiss him, or anything, then she’d hit him with the slogan. At this rate, anything was worth a shot.

  And here was her chance.

  * * *

  Cody wandered out of his office and then stopped. His men stared at him with devilish grins. Christ, not again.

  Before he had an opportunity to argue with them, Monica waltzed across the room and stuck out her hand. “I wanted to apologize and to thank you for yesterday.”

  He shook her hand, not quite sure what she was up to. Last he knew, she was spitting mad. “You’re welcome.”

  “Yes, well.” She looked down at their joined hands, but didn’t let go. “I wanted to talk to you about an idea I have for your campaign. I ....” She lifted her face, and her eyes collided with his for an intense moment. “I mean ... as I was saying ... Oh, hell.”

  She yanked on his arm and pulled him down to her level, homing in on his cheek. At the last second her mouth veered to the right, and she planted a wet one smack on his lips, her eyes fluttering closed.

  Heat seared his lips, rendering him immobile, and then he blinked as his body took over. Closing his own eyes, he gave in to the sheer pleasure of electricity burning him up inside.

  When had she let go of his hand and plastered her body to his? He deepened the kiss, wanting more. Wanting her. She felt damned good pressed against him, all soft and feminine. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

  His men snickered behind them.

  Cody jerked away from her. Dammit. How could she make him forget everything with a single touch of her lips? He had absolutely no control when it came to her. More frustrated with himself than her, he brusquely set her down. She wobbled and he took a large, unsteady step back, glancing at his men.

  Well, hell. Nothing he could say now would convince them there wasn’t anything going on between Monica and him.

  “D-Do you have a passion for all things cowboy?” she asked weakly, looking like she didn’t have any more of a clue than he did as to why she’d just devoured his mouth.

  “Apparently you do.” He ran the back of his hand across his lips and watched her face flush crimson.

  “Oh, that?” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That kiss was meant to prove a point. ‘Do you have a passion for all things cowboy? Come visit us and let your dreams come true.’ Some women are passionate about cowboys. Tapping into that seemed like a good idea.”

  “Except ‘some’ women, the ones who are passionate about cowboys,” he paused and arched a brow at her until she flushed again, “are not the only guests who come here. I need a slogan that will include all of my guests.”

  “Point taken. Still want me?”

  “Huh?” His voice croaked like an adolescent boy’s as he gaped at her.

  “Do you still want me to work for you?” she clarified.

  His men snickered in the background.

  “Work, right.” He composed himself. “Start by getting Snoozer’s and Babe’s saddles from the tackroom and bringing them into the corral. They’re labeled, so you can’t miss them. First thing you need to learn is how to saddle a horse.”

  Her jaw unhinged, and then she pursed her lips into a tight line and nodded. “Right away, boss.”

  He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. Damn, she sure knew how to move, and he continued to stare long after she disappeared. Irritated that he’d noticed, he turned away to give instructions to his men.

  Several moments later, his voice trailed off as a scraping noise sounded behind him. Jake, Rusty and Hank grew still as statues, their jaws falling open and brows arching sky-high. Cody narrowed his eyes, pivoting on his boot heel to check out the fascination behind him.

  “What the hell? Can’t she do anything right?” he mumbled. This so-called “favor” was turning into a heck of a lot more work for him than he’d anticipated. He muttered a curse.

  She stood in the doorway of the tackroom, mopping the beads of moisture saturating her brow as she pulled her pink rayon T-shirt away from her skin. “Heavy little devils, aren’t you?” She picked them back up. “Little? Ha. What am I saying? I’m surprised they design ones big enough, considering who sits on these contraptions.”

  Grunting and panting, she yet again dropped the bigger of the two saddles. He had no clue why she would try to carry both of them at the same time. Hell, he had no clue why she did half the things she did.

  Stepping over her burden, she bent down and stuck her fanny out as she grabbed hold of the saddle horn on both saddles. Her too-snug bib overalls stretched taut over her behind. She rocked her fanny back and forth. It was a wonder the fabric held together at all. “Come on, baby. Work with me now,” she purred, sounding husky. “One ... two ... thr--”

  “Miss Hammond,” he bellowed, unable to take any more.

  “Ahhhhhh,” she squealed as she let go of the saddles and landed on her bottom, wincing. “What?”

  He stormed over and hefted her to her feet. Once she gained her balance, he turned her loose. Standing with his boots spread wide apart and his hands on his hips, he glared at her, feeling the muscles in his jaw bulge.

  Reaching deep within for patience, he took a calming breath. “You get the horses. I’ll get the saddles.”

  Christ, they only weighed thirty pounds or so. Figured. Just like his ex-wife, always finding a way for other people to do her work. Probably afraid she’d break a damn nail.

  “Mr. Rafferty. Are you sure you want me to get the horses?” Her voice penetrated his thoughts.

  He cursed as he pointed his finger toward the stalls and snapped, “Yes, the horses. If you think you can handle it. Go on now, we’re burning daylight.”

  She bristled, straightening her shoulders, and marched away with her head held high. “I can handle it just fine.”

  His men stepped well out of his way as he stamped out of the barn, easily carrying the two saddles to the corral, again wondering why she hadn’t just carried the damn things one at a time. It would have been a whole lot easier. Then again, the little spitfire never did anything the easy way.

  He grunted. Glancing over his shoulder, he barked, “Show’s over, boys. Let’s get to work.”

  They sauntered out behind him, for once not saying a word.

  Outside, he paced back and forth, kicking up dust as he wore a path, listening to the sounds of the ranch as it came to life. He glanced at the cloudless sky, the sun already higher than he would have liked. What could be keeping her this time? God only knew. She had her own unique way of doing things, and it usually landed her in a heap of trouble.

  Cody studied his men. It frustrated him they didn’t believe he and Monica weren’t sleeping together. Hell, he wouldn’t believe himself either, after the dandy of a show she put on this morning, plastering her body to his and kissing the tar right out of him.

  Why’d he have to go and kiss her back? He could tell the boys why her clothes were left in the barn, but they’d never believe he’d carried her in that sexy nightie, given her a steamy massage, but hadn’t slept with her. Maybe he should sleep with her. He’d do anything to get her out of his system.

  He wasn’t a bit of use with all this pent-up sexual tension boiling about inside him. She had him walking around like one of his randy bulls, barking at everyone, including her. Maybe he should have an affair with her.

  Maybe he should have his head examined.

  Cody kicked the dirt. Dealing with her was downright exhausting, but he had to ad
mire her determination. Saving her father’s company was a noble cause, but it was obvious advertising wasn’t her thing. Yet he found himself rooting for her. Ironic, since he would be the one to dash her hopes when he had to tell her he was going with another agency. He gnashed his teeth and stormed back to the barn, regretting the deal he’d made with her father, no matter how much he owed the man.

  He heard Jake ask Hank, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “You bet your ass, partner. I’m not missing this one.”

  “I’m in,” Rusty added.

  Cody rolled his eyes over the Three Stooges but never broke his stride.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Monica wiped her hands on a rag in the corner of the barn and noticed how rough they were after yesterday’s chores. She sighed. They would never be the same. Not that she didn’t work hard back home. She’d just never done such “hard” work.

  She had thought she’d be mucking out stalls again, not carrying saddles. Like she knew anything at all about ranching. She’d seen Cody carry the saddles at the same time, so she’d thought it would be a good way to show him she could handle any job he could. She could be as pigheaded as he could any day. Be as strong as him, not a chance.

  Monica had only wanted to save her father’s company and help Cody’s business by creating a winning campaign. Now, she wanted Cody’s respect, though she didn’t know why. So much for earning his respect. He’d yelled at her as usual.

  The man knew how to push her buttons, but her good intentions of remaining professional had flown right out the window when he’d stared at her. Those eyes would be her downfall. How in the heck had her mouth wound up on his lips when she’d been aiming for his cheek?

  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.