Читать книгу The Long, Hot Texas Summer - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 8

Chapter One

There were times for doing things yourself and times for not. This, Justin McCabe thought grimly, surveying the damage he had just inflicted on a brand-new utility cabinet and the drywall behind it, was definitely one of the latter.

Frustrated, because there was little he couldn’t do well, Justin shook his head in disgust. Then he swore heatedly at the blunder that further derailed his tight schedule and made it even harder to prove the skeptics wrong.

It was possible, of course, that this could be fixed without buying a whole new cabinet. If he knew what he was doing. Which he clearly did not—a fact that the five beloved ranch mutts, sitting quietly and cautiously watching his every move, seemed to realize, too.

A motor sounded in the lane, and he hoped it was the carpenter who’d been scheduled to arrive that morning and had yet to actually make an appearance. Justin set his hammer down. He stalked to the door of Bunkhouse One just as a fancy red Silverado pickup truck stopped in front of the lodge. It had an elaborate silver Airstream trailer attached to the back and a lone woman at the wheel.

“Great.” Justin sighed as all the dogs darted out the open door of the partially finished bunkhouse and raced, barking their heads off, toward the vehicle.

The obviously lost tourist eased the window down and stuck her head out into the sweltering Texas heat. A straw hat with a sassy rolled brim was perched on her head. Sunglasses shaded her eyes. But there was no disguising her beautiful face and shapely bare arms. The young interloper was, without a doubt, the most exquisite female Justin had ever seen.

She smiled at the dogs, despite the fact that they were making a racket. “Hey, poochies,” she said in a soft, melodic voice.

As entranced as he was, the dogs seemed more so. They’d stopped barking and had all sat down to stare at the stranger.

She opened her door and stepped out. All six feet of her.

Layered red and white tank tops showcased her nice, full breasts and slender waist. A short denim skirt clung to her hips and emphasized a pair of really fine legs.

She took off her hat and shook out a mane of butterscotch-blond hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders. After tossing the hat on the seat behind her, she reached down to pet the dogs. The pack was thoroughly besotted.

Justin completely understood.

If there was such a thing as love at first sight—which he knew there wasn’t—he’d have been a goner.

The woman straightened and removed her sunglasses. “I’m Amanda,” she said in the same voice that had magically quieted his dogs.

Justin stared into long-lashed, wide-set amber eyes that were every bit as mesmerizing as the rest of her. His brain seemed to have stopped working altogether. His body, on the other hand, was at full alert. “I’m Justin McCabe.”

“This the Lost Pines?” Amanda asked, taking a moment to scan their surroundings.

Working to get the blood back in his brain where it belonged, Justin merely nodded.

“So,” she said, still admiring the acres of unfenced grassland peppered with cedar and live oak, as well as the endless blue horizon and rolling hills in the distance. “Where do you want me to park my trailer?”

And then, all of a sudden, the fantasy ended. This gorgeous woman had not been dropped into his life like a karmic reward for all his hard work. Brought swiftly back to reality, he stopped her with a regretful lift of his palm. “You can’t.”

She pivoted back to him in a drift of citrusy perfume. Her eyes sparked with indignation and her delicate but surprisingly capable-looking hands landed on her hips. “I made it very clear to whomever I spoke. My camping out here is part of the deal.”

What deal? “It can’t be.”

She came closer, her soft lips pursed in an unhappy frown. “Why not?”

Embarrassed that it had taken him this long to correct her misconception, Justin explained without rancor. “Because this isn’t the Lost Pines you’re looking for.”

A flicker of indecipherable emotion flashed in those beautiful eyes. She regarded him skeptically, seeming to think he was trying to pull something over on her. “But how can that be? The sign above the gate said this is the Lost Pines Ranch.”

“The sign’s on the long list of things waiting to be changed.” A new one had been ordered but wasn’t coming in for another month. Which meant he would continue to have these mix-ups with nonlocals.

“Are you sure I’m not in the right place?” she asked with a frown. “Because...”

Justin shook his head, a little disappointed that this beautiful amazon would not be settling in for a long stay. He turned and pointed in the opposite direction. “What you want is the Lost Pines Campground, which is another three miles down the road, next to the Lake Laramie State Park. But...” What the heck, why not? Just this once he was going to go for what he wanted. Which was a little more—make that a lot more—time with this sun-kissed beauty. “Once you get set up there, Amanda, I’d be happy to take you to dinner.”

* * *

THIS WAS, AMANDA BLISS JOHNSON thought, the most bizarre encounter she’d ever had. Even if the tall rancher with the shaggy chestnut-brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes was the hottest guy she had ever come across in her life. From the massive shoulders and chest beneath that chambray shirt, to his long muscular legs, custom-boot-encased feet—and ringless left hand—everything about him broadcast Single and Available.

Which meant Strictly Off-Limits to her.

She wished she’d left her sunglasses on so he wouldn’t see her dazzled expression. “First off,” she told him crisply, “I don’t date customers.”

Now it was his turn to look shocked. “Customers! What are you talking about?”

Amanda pushed on. “You called for a carpenter, right? At least, Libby Lowell-McCabe, the CEO of the Lowell Foundation and chairwoman of the board for the Laramie Boys Ranch, did. She said it was an emergency. That your previous carpenter quit with no notice and you only have four weeks to get the bunkhouse ready for occupancy.” She paused to draw a breath. “I emailed her back that I’d be willing to help y’all out, but only if I could keep my travel trailer on the property so I wouldn’t have to waste time commuting back and forth to San Angelo.”

Amanda fought her racing pulse and tried to stay calm. “But if that’s not going to work, I guess I could park my Silversteam at the campground. Assuming, of course, they have a space available. Since it’s the busy summer season, they may not.”

He lifted a hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

Amanda folded her arms in front of her. “Sure about that? Because just now you seemed dead set against me camping here.”

He flashed a slow, disarming smile. “That’s because I thought you were a tourist, not an apprentice.”

Apprentice? Strike two for the handsome Texan! “I’m not the apprentice,” Amanda said tightly, her temper rising. “I’m the master carpenter.”

He pulled the paper out of his pocket and squinted at it as if he couldn’t believe the words in front of him. Then his head lifted and he speared her with an incredulous gaze. “You’re A. B. Johnson Jr.?”

Amanda wondered if it took him this long to process everything. “Amanda Bliss Johnson. Junior’s the nickname I got at work.”

“You want me to call you Junior?” he asked, with a hint of humor in his low baritone.

“Or Amanda.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.” What did was getting this gig. It would allow her to settle in this ruggedly beautiful place for an entire month before moving on to her next rural job.

Justin McCabe continued to contemplate her as if he either didn’t believe she could really be an ace carpenter or wasn’t going to be comfortable having a woman undertake such a large job.

Amanda sighed.

Great, just great. She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to put the finishing touches on a built-in bookcase for a very fussy client, then spent hours getting all her stuff packed up and driving all the way out here. Now, the deceptively laid-back McCabe was acting like he wanted to fire her on the spot.

Deciding it was his turn to be put in the hot seat, Amanda stepped closer. “Do you have a problem with the fact I’m a woman?”

“No.” He was clearly fibbing. “Not at all.”

Then why couldn’t he stop looking at her like he was going to need a protective force field just to be anywhere near her? “I come highly recommended.” The defensive words were out before she could stop them.

“I know.” He exhaled, beginning to look as off-kilter as she felt. “I just expected a guy. That’s all.”

A common mistake, given that most of her competitors were male. Still, Amanda refused to let Justin McCabe off the hook. Sensing there was more to whatever it was going on with him, she arched a brow.

There was a beat of complete and utter silence.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I did a Google search on your company after Libby told me she had arranged for A. B. Johnson Carpentry to come out and finish the work on an emergency basis. The website said the company was founded in San Angelo, Texas, by Angus ‘Buddy’ Johnson thirty-eight years ago.”

Proudly, Amanda relayed, “That’s my grandfather. He still runs the business—although he’s supposed to be phasing out of that, too—but he stopped doing the rural gigs a year ago.” After much persuading on her part.

Amanda touched her thumb to the center of her chest. “I do them now.”

It was McCabe’s turn to appear irritated. “So why didn’t you make that clear in the communication with Libby? Unless—” he paused, still scrutinizing her closely “—you’re trying to purposely mislead people?”

Amanda really did not want to get into this. However, he’d left her no choice. “When I first started doing jobs on my own the company was getting a lot of requests for me that had nothing whatsoever to do with my talent as a carpenter.”

Understanding dawned on his handsome face. Along with a hint of anger. Amanda warmed beneath the intensity in his eyes. “So we took all the employee photos off the website and just listed the carpenters by name, or in my case, just my initials and last name. To differentiate me from my granddad we added the Junior to my name. That successfully eliminated all the customers just interested in making up jobs to hit on me.”

“Makes sense.”

She straightened. “Luckily, that’s not going to be the case here.”

“No,” he concurred, meeting her stern gaze. “It’s not.”

“Good to hear.” Amanda relaxed in relief. The last thing she wanted to deal with was the amorous attention of the tall, sexy Texan. Given how physically attractive she found him, the situation might be just too tempting.

Thinking he was possibly the most easygoing man she had ever met, Amanda drew a deep breath. “Anyway, back to the way the company operates. My grandfather takes the service requests. He makes up the schedule and does all the accounting work required to run the business. The other four employees are all master carpenters, and they work in San Angelo. They all have families, and don’t want to be away for days at a time, so I take the gigs on all the remote locations.”

When he opened his mouth she lifted a staying hand. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that? If that’s the case, I’ll see if one of the guys wants to do it.” She paused again, frowning. “They’d have to commute back and forth, and the two hours’ travel time daily would add significantly to the overall cost and time it will take to complete the job.”

McCabe shook his head, swiftly vetoing that suggestion. “That won’t be necessary,” he reassured her. “You’re here. You should do it.”

Happy that much was settled, Amanda was ready to move on, too. She returned his easy smile. “Then how about you show me everything you want done so I can get started.”

* * *

JUSTIN SPENT THE next half hour showing Amanda the bunkhouse they were converting for the opening of the Laramie Boys Ranch. It would house the first group of eight boys and two house parents. There were cabinets to install in the bathrooms. Trim and doors to put on. Bookshelves and built-in locker-style armoires to be constructed in each of the five bedrooms.

Amanda paused next to the mangled drywall and damaged utility cabinet in the mudroom. She brushed splinters of wood from the plumbing hookup for the washer. “What happened here?”

Motioning for the dogs to stay back, well out of harm’s way, Justin grabbed a trash bag. “I tried to put the cabinet up myself and it fell off the wall, taking the drywall with it.”

Amanda dropped the shards of splintered wood and ripped-up drywall into the bag. Justin knelt to help her gather debris.

“Can you fix it?” He wasn’t used to screwing up. Failing in front of a highly competent woman made it even worse.

“Yes.” Amanda dusted off her hands and took out her measuring tape.

Justin watched as she set down her notebook and measured the damaged back of the cupboard. “No need to order a new cabinet?”

Nodding, she jotted down a set of numbers.

When she had finished looking around, Justin asked, “What’s your best estimate?”

Amanda raked her teeth across her lush lower lip as she consulted the list she had made. “You said you wanted hardwood flooring installed throughout?”

“Except for the bathrooms. Those are going to have ceramic tile.”

“The target date?”

“August first.”

“Which gives us a little under four weeks.” She tilted her head slightly to one side, her hair brushing the curve of her shoulder. “That’s an ambitious schedule.”

“Is it doable?”

“That all depends. Are you willing to have me work weekends and some evenings, too?”

Until more donations or grants came in, things were really tight. “We don’t have the budget for overtime pay,” he admitted.

Understanding lit her eyes. “I’ll just charge you the regular rate, then.”

He paused, tempted to accept yet not wanting to take advantage. “Sure?”

She tucked her notebook under her arm and headed for the open front door. She stepped outside, the sunshine illuminating her shapely legs. “Consider it my donation for your cause. Which, by the way, is a good one.”

Justin fell into step beside her as they continued toward her truck. “You think so?”

She tossed him an admiring glance. “Troubled kids need a place to go.” A hint of a smile curved her lips. “If that can happen in a beautiful setting like this, more power to you.”

“Thanks.” Not everyone was on board with his idea for the ranch. It helped to know she was.

The dogs raced forward, suddenly on full alert. A split second later, a car motor purred in the distance. Two vehicles appeared, the second one a black-and-white Laramie County sheriff’s car.

“Another lost tourist?” Amanda joked, her glance roving over him once again. “This one with a police escort?”

Justin shook his head, hoping it wasn’t more bad news. “Mitzy Martin. She’s the social worker tapped to work with the ranch. She’s also on the board of directors. The sheriff’s deputy is my brother Colt McCabe. He’s in charge of community outreach for the department. I have no idea who the teenage boy with her is....”

Amanda backed up. “Well, obviously you don’t need me for whatever this is.” Giving the other visitors a cursory wave, she walked to the truck, his dogs trailing behind her, and began unloading her tools.

The teenage boy stayed put as Mitzy and Colt got out of their cars. Both radiated concern as they approached. “We have a favor to ask,” Mitzy told him.

Justin looked at the sullen teen slouched in the passenger seat of Mitzy’s car, arms crossed militantly in front of him. Pale and thin, he wore a black T-shirt with a skull on the front. His dark ash-blond hair was on the long side. “What’s up?”

Mitzy shot him an imploring look. “We need a place for Lamar Atkins to stay during the day for the rest of the summer.”

Understandable, but... “The ranch isn’t open yet.”

Colt inclined his head toward the unfinished bunkhouse. “It looks like you could use a lot of help getting it ready.”

That much was certainly true, particularly in the bunkhouse. Justin paused, wanting to make sure he knew what they were expecting him to provide. “You want me to pay him?”

Mitzy shook her head. “Help him work off his community service hours.”

“For...?” Justin prompted.

His brother frowned. “Repeated truancy. He’s supposed to be in summer school now, but he keeps skipping, and the judge gave him one hour of community service for every hour of class he’s skipped. Which amounts to two hundred and thirty-six hours.”

Justin muttered a compassionate oath. That was going to take a while to work off.

“If you take Lamar on, and he sticks with the program, he’ll be finished with his community service commitment before school starts in the fall,” Mitzy urged. “And hopefully will learn something in the process.”

Justin looked at the kid. He had his earphones in, his eyes closed. Justin turned back to Mitzy and Colt. Both had also felt the call to help others. Although his brother was now happily married and father to a little boy, Mitzy was as single as Justin was, with as little time for her social life as he. All three of them took to heart the fate of those in need. “Where are the boy’s parents?”

Mitzy’s expression tightened. “Long gone. Fed up with trying to deal with his defiance, they severed their parental rights and turned him over to the state last March. The court placed him with a foster family in Laramie, but both foster parents work during the day, and they can’t be around to constantly monitor Lamar.” She paused. “He seems to like them, and they feel the same way about him, but they just can’t keep him in summer school.”

Justin squinted. “What happens if this doesn’t work out?”

“Given that Lamar was already on his last chance when I picked him up?” Colt exhaled slowly. “He’ll be labeled incorrigible and put in a juvenile detention center.”

Which meant an awful lot was at stake. Justin had seen enough kids spiral downward. He didn’t want to be personally responsible for the ill-fated future of another. “I want to help.” Wanted to give the kid a safe place to be during the day.

Mitzy regarded him with confidence. “We figured you would.”

“But...” Justin cast a glance over at Amanda, who was lifting toolboxes and a power saw out of the bed of her truck. “I’d feel a lot better about it if the place was finished and the live-in counselors were here.”

“You still want to be named ranch director by the board?” Colt asked. “Instead of just chief financial officer?”

Justin sighed, frustration growing. “You both know I do.”

Mitzy pushed, sage as ever. “This is your chance to prove yourself worthy of the job.”

Justin knew Mitzy and Colt were right. This was a prime opportunity to advance his career in the direction he wanted it to go, as well as a chance to help a kid in need. So the situation wasn’t perfect. They’d manage. “When do you want to start?”

The duo smiled their thanks. “First thing tomorrow morning,” Mitzy said.

* * *

“SO YOU’RE GOING to personally supervise Lamar?” Amanda asked in shock after Justin filled her in an hour later.

To his aggravation, she seemed to think he couldn’t—shouldn’t—do it. “Why does that surprise you?” Justin was more than a little irked to find her among the naysayers who were constantly doubting him.

Amanda surveyed the area surrounding her temporary home site. “From the way you were talking earlier as you showed me around, I had the impression you were more of a numbers guy.”

Being good at something didn’t mean it was the right fit, career-wise. Justin wished he could make people understand that. He followed her back to the trailer. “I studied business and accounting in college.”

Amanda chocked the tires so the trailer wouldn’t roll. Finished, she stood. “What practical experience have you had working with troubled kids?”

Not enough; he’d found out the hard way. But that, too, was about to change.

“I worked at a nonprofit that helped at-risk teens.” He helped her unhitch the trailer.

Amanda undid the safety chains. “And did what exactly?”

“Initially, I was the CFO.” Justin pitched in and took care of the sway bars. “Eventually, I coordinated services for the kids, too.”

“But someone else did the actual counseling and evaluating,” Amanda guessed.

Justin nodded. “Which was quite extensive, given how complicated some of their situations were.”

Her expression pensive, Amanda unlocked the hitch. “I’m sure it was.”

“But?”

Amanda got into her truck to drive it out from under the hitch. “Facilitating services for an at-risk kid is not the same as actually getting through to him or her.” She stepped back out of the cab and headed toward him, her long legs eating up the expanse of yard.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Justin had heard that particular argument. “I can do this.” He knew it in his gut. All he needed was a chance.

She gave him a skeptical look, then took out a carpenter’s level to check the floor of the trailer. As she moved, the hem of her denim skirt slid up her thighs. “From what you’ve just told me, Lamar sounds like a tough case.” Finding it okay, she stood with a smile. “Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem like someone who knows much about defying the system.”

Justin couldn’t deny that was true. He’d gone through life without getting into trouble with authority once. That didn’t mean he couldn’t help those who had.

He was beginning to feel a little irked. “So?”

“Where’s the common ground that will allow you and Lamar to establish any kind of rapport?”

“He’ll respond to time and attention.”

Amanda shook her head. “You think his foster parents haven’t been giving him that?”

“Obviously, Lamar needs even more than what he’s been getting,” Justin countered. “Which is where I come in.”

Amanda activated the trailer’s solar panels. “Want my advice?”

“No, but I expect you’re going to give it anyway.”

Their eyes met. “Leave the life lessons to the social workers. They’ve had lots of practice and they’re good at it.”

She went inside the trailer and returned with a rolled-up awning, which he helped her set up.

“Work on getting this ranch finished and ready for the first eight boys. If Lamar can help you do that, fine, it’ll be a good deal for both of you.” With the awning finally attached, she brushed dust off her hands. “But accept the possibility that the kid might not want to be here tomorrow any more than he apparently wanted to be here today.”

“And if that happens?” he prompted, intrigued despite himself by her perspective on the situation.

Her voice dropped a companionable notch. “If he doesn’t want to help out, don’t force it, because the only way it will ever work is if this is his choice. Not someone else’s.”

Justin studied her closely. “What makes you such an expert on all this?” As compared to, say—me?

A hint of sadness haunted her eyes. “Because I lived it. For a good part of my teenage years I hated everyone and everything.”

Now, that was hard to imagine. She seemed so content and comfortable with herself. Sensing he could learn something from her, Justin asked, “What changed?”

For a moment, Amanda went very still, seeming a million miles away. “Me. I finally realized I had a choice to either continue on as I was, which was a pretty miserable existence, or approach life differently. The point is, Justin, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help himself.” She sighed. “From what I saw, it didn’t look to me like Lamar is there yet.”

He grimaced at the truth of her words. “I know he’s not.”

Another beat of silence. “Then?” she pressed.

I’m not risking another tragedy. It’s as simple and complicated as that.

Justin stepped closer, vowing, “I’m going to help Lamar whether he wants me to or not.” He paused to take her in, appreciating both her beauty and her strength. “I’d like it if you were on board with that. If you’re not,” he paused and shot her a laser-sharp look, “I’d appreciate it if you would keep your feelings to yourself.”