Читать книгу Wrangling The Rancher - Jeannie Watt - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

TAYLOR WASN’T A CRIER, but her throat felt ridiculously tight as she drove across the Floating Bridge on I-90. Her cat, Max, was staying with her friend Carolyn until she could send for him, and she already missed him. Her furniture was in storage, and she’d temporarily given up the Z for a former coworker’s SUV. Temporarily being the keyword there. She didn’t like her baby being in someone else’s hands, but the car didn’t work in her new environment. The SUV could tow a small rental trailer with most of her essentials, and it could navigate snow if needed, but it ate gas like nobody’s business. And it felt crazy to sit up so high when she was used to hugging the road. But at least she still owned her car.

Not so her beautiful apartment.

So hard to handle...

Taylor swallowed again.

She had put herself back on the building waiting list, telling herself that if she wasn’t ready to rent when her name came to the top of the list again, then she was well and truly a failure. Which she wasn’t. A few months—maybe a year or two—living and working in the wilds of Montana would do her good. Broaden her horizons.

Her ex-supervisor had said it would humble her, but Taylor had paid no attention. Madison said things without thinking. The woman had no filter, yet she still had a job with Stratford. She was like Kent—neither had put in as much voluntary overtime as she had.

Taylor wasn’t going to think about that.

Nope. She was going to think positive thoughts—like how she was going to work her way into a position of power in a competing company and wreak some havoc on Stratford. Those were good thoughts. Satisfying thoughts.

She finally came clean with her mother, Cecilia, who hated Montana with a passion. Cecilia had moved to the farm shortly after she and Taylor’s father, Tom, were married, but after the romance of rural life had worn off, she’d yearned for her old life in the city. Unfortunately, Taylor’s father was as rural as her mother was urban and the two never found a middle ground. Taylor had been only five when her mother filed for divorce, packed Taylor up and moved back to Seattle. After that, it was vacations on the farm until her father passed away from a heart attack too young.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” was all Cecilia had said after the confession.

“It’s temporary, Mom.” But even though she believed what she said, she still felt like a loser. Her mother had hammered into her over the years what a hellhole the ranch was. Yes, it was a nice place to visit, but if you tried to live there, it would eat your soul.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been driven to this. I’d help you out if I could, but—”

“I know.” And she did. Her mother kept to a stringent budget with her artist husband of ten years in order to live in a tidy two-bedroom apartment in the heart of San Francisco’s North Beach. Taylor had never once considered asking her mother for money, because she knew there wasn’t any to spare.

The little trailer Taylor towed behind the SUV wobbled every now and again as the wind hit it, reminding her that she wasn’t driving the Z, and then she’d slow down. There was really no hurry. She planned to spend the night in a motel in the Eagle Valley in order to avoid dealing with Cole Bryan after a long drive. She wanted to be fresh for that. They had a few issues to iron out, and she wasn’t looking forward to sharing her environment with a stranger. But, as her grandfather had said, she was living rent-free and was within driving distance of job markets. Well worth having to share three hundred acres. As to who ended up in the house...well, her money was on herself.

It was almost nine o’clock when she pulled into the Eagle Valley. She debated about the mom-and-pop motel closest to the farm, then chose to drive through town to stay at the Manor Suites—a business hotel that made her feel more at home. She could grab coffee and breakfast in the lobby the next morning before heading out to the farm. It was good to be properly rested and nourished before tackling a potentially touchy situation. Cole Bryan likely wouldn’t relish her being there, keeping an eye on him. But she’d be a good farm-mate to him, as long as he didn’t cross her. Or try to keep her out of the house.

Taylor checked in and rolled her suitcase along the carpeted hallway to her first-floor room. Her last night of privacy. She’d assumed that she’d spend it stretched out on the bed watching bad television—which had become something of a habit since she’d been laid off—but instead she fell asleep almost instantly. She woke up a few hours later, disoriented. The lights were on and an infomercial blared away on the television. Instead of learning how a Wonder Blend could change her life, she snapped off the TV and peeled out of her clothes, crawling under the covers in her underwear. So very tired...

A car alarm outside her window brought Taylor fully upright in bed. She heard the sound of a kid’s laughter, followed by a man’s warning voice, and then the alarm shut off. Taylor lay back against the pillows, noting that it was daylight before snagging her phone off the nightstand and checking the time.

Eight thirty!

She practically sprang out of bed.

She never slept that late—not even when she stayed up until the early hours. Maybe it was the altitude or something. She headed to the bathroom, showered and dressed. What if that guy was out doing farm stuff by the time she arrived? She’d have to hunt him down or spend the day cooling her heels and waiting. Not acceptable.

By nine o’clock she was checked out of the hotel, her laptop case slung over her shoulder, rolling her luggage with one hand and hanging on to a much-needed cup of coffee with the other. The door had just closed behind her when she stopped dead.

Oh, no.

Taylor dropped the cup, only vaguely aware of the hot coffee splashing on her leg before she started jogging across the parking lot, her laptop beating on her hip and her suitcase bouncing wildly behind her. She skidded to a stop next to the partially open trailer door. Barely able to breathe, she pulled the heavy metal door the rest of the way open and peered inside, her stomach going tight when she saw the ransacked mess inside. Taylor blinked at the clothing carnage, then noted the neatly cut padlock lying on the ground next to her feet.

The bastards!

The trailer wasn’t as full as it had been, but she had no idea what had been stolen. Everything was jumbled up, messed up, screwed up...just like her life.

“Are you okay?”

She gave a small start, then turned to see a man with a small child in his arms standing behind her. “No. I’ve been robbed.” In Eagle Valley, Montana. It just wasn’t right.

“That stinks. I’ll go get the manager.”

“Thank you.” Taylor went to the SUV and peered in through the window, her heart pounding so hard she was having a hard time taking a full breath. Her small jewelry armoire was still in the back seat of the SUV, covered by an old blanket, along with her desktop computer and monitor, which sat on the floorboards, covered with a couple of old towels. Unfortunately, she’d put everything else—her cookware, her bedding, her clothing—in the trailer, and probably half the stuff was gone.

Welcome to Montana, Taylor.

* * *

WHAT WAS IT about balers that made them break down whenever they were most needed? In the case of Karl’s old baler, it was probably a matter of the thing being almost twice as old as Cole was. He’d had the option of leasing Karl’s equipment—some new, some old—or coming up with his own. He’d decided to lease, and still thought it was the best option, if he could get the baler back into commission.

After an hour-long wrestling match, he decided to break for a quick lunch, maybe with a beer chaser, then go back to it. He was on his way into the house when an SUV pulling a trailer slowed and then turned into the driveway.

His stomach tightened. She was here. His space was officially invaded. But, as Karl said, the likelihood of her staying long was nil. How often would he see her anyway? She didn’t seem to be the type to hang around when there were things to accomplish elsewhere. Bottom line, Karl was playing hardball with his granddaughter, but he loved her, and Cole was going to do whatever he could to help Karl out. He owed the guy for letting him escape from the guest ranch. Bottom line, he was going to make the best of a bad situation and hope against hope that she got a job and moved ASAP.

Taylor pulled the SUV to a stop directly in front of the barn door, thereby making access impossible, but one look at her face when she got out of the vehicle made the request to park elsewhere die on his lips.

“Are you okay?”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “No.” The word dropped like a rock. A big, heavy one.

Years of working with guests had taught Cole that sometimes it was best to simply wait. Most people eventually let fly with whatever was bothering them.

“I got robbed.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

“I spent the night in a hotel in the Eagle Valley, and when I got up this morning, someone had cut the lock and gone through my stuff.”

“Did they take anything?”

“I don’t know. I have to go through my belongings and send a list to the sheriff’s office.”

“Well, that sucks.” Because whoever had robbed her was probably someone passing through and she’d never get anything back. There wasn’t a lot of crime in the Eagle Valley.

“Yeah, it does.”

So much for climbing on his tractor and disappearing into the fields.

“Do you want some coffee or something?” She looked as if she could use a strong belt of whiskey—or, in her case, perhaps flavored vodka—and he didn’t blame her.

“No. I want to unload what’s left of my stuff and go through it.” She gestured toward the house with her chin. “Would it be possible to just move it into the house now?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because it makes no sense to move my stuff to the bunkhouse, then back to the house after your month of rent elapses—you only paid for one month, right?”

“Right,” Cole said noncommittally. Did she really think that he was going to move to accommodate her?

“The first of the month is only a week away.”

“And...?”

“Instead of moving my stuff twice and yours once, we could move mine once and yours once.”

Really? For a moment, Cole considered it. A very brief moment. Whether she’d just been robbed or not, this woman needed to be taken down a peg. Or two. She was so obviously used to getting her way and telling other people how it was going to be that for once in his life, Cole wasn’t going to do the good-guy thing.

“I’m not moving into the bunkhouse,” he said.

“You’re renting the house from month to month. After this month is over, we’re switching.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “No.”

“My grandfather made it clear—”

“I don’t think he did. Not to you anyway. He told me that his granddaughter would be in the bunkhouse until she got a job. Those exact words. Granddaughter. Bunkhouse. Until she got a job. Not until the month is over.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Call him.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Add a little more stress to his life instead of just doing the right thing.”

Her blue eyes grew fiery. Oh, yeah. Not too many people had stood up to the princess. And after years of smiling and taking guest abuse, Cole had to admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction at not taking it anymore.

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree. The bunkhouse is totally habitable. You’ll be gone before long and I’ll still be here.”

Her chest rose and fell, and Cole could see that a mighty battle was waging.

He hooked a thumb in his belt loop. “I’m not leaving the house.”

“Fine.” She almost spat the word out. “For now.” She jerked open the back door of the SUV and hauled out a suitcase, her eyes narrowing as she turned back to him. “You may not be correct when you say that you’ll be here for longer than me.”

As if this woman was going to stay on this farm a moment longer than she had to. But even though he believed that her threat was as empty as the silos on Karl’s farm, it annoyed him. Again, he was no longer in a position where he had to put up with bullshit just because.

“You’re threatening me?” he asked in a low voice. “Because I am within my rights to kick you off this property.”

She stepped up to him and gave him a maddeningly innocent look. “And add stress to Karl’s life? Are you sure you want to do that?”

It sucked to have his own words thrown back at him.

He leaned toward her so that they were essentially chest to chest, or chest to upper abdomen since she was about six inches shorter than him. But she spoke first. “I am not threatening you. I am grateful that you are letting me stay.” Even though it was her right. She didn’t say it, but it was written all over her face.

“Grateful in your own way.”

“However,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken, “be clear on this...if things don’t go smoothly, then we will get my grandfather involved, and I promise you I will come out on top.”

He almost laughed. She didn’t realize that she was currently on the receiving end of some tough love. Fine. He’d allow her the fantasy.

“All I ask is mutual respect,” Cole said. He was done being treated like the help.

“Agreed.” She held out a hand. Her nails were perfectly manicured. Apparently being out of work for two months didn’t affect the beauty budget.

Cole took her hand and shook. “Agreed.”

* * *

TAYLOR WATCHED COLE Bryan head toward the machine shed through narrowed eyes. He was more of an adversary than she’d anticipated. And he had a ridiculously nice ass. All in all, a great physical package coupled with a maddeningly stubborn personality. Well, she wasn’t done yet, but she recognized when it was time to stop and regroup. Plot her strategy.

He hadn’t offered to help her move her stuff into the bunkhouse, which was just as well. She needed time. Getting robbed was bad enough, but finding out that she was going to live in what was basically a primitive motel room while she conducted her job search...well, on the bright side, the circumstances would motivate her to nail something down as soon as possible.

On that positive note, she walked over to the bunkhouse and opened the door. Stale air enveloped her as she stepped inside, and she instantly crossed to the nearest window and attempted to heave it open. No luck. She went to the next. Again, nothing. Finally, the last window screeched open a crack. It would have to do.

Taylor turned to survey her new surroundings, fighting the sinking feeling in her gut. The bunkhouse was just as she remembered it from her childhood visits, except that it seemed smaller. The single room was long and narrow, with beat-up vinyl flooring and dingy tan paint on the walls. In the corner was a bank of cupboards and a cast-iron sink that was worth a small fortune on the renovation market. She crossed the room to run a finger over the cast iron. She had a primo sink in a very sad environment. The only furniture consisted of two old bed frames, neither with mattresses, a chrome-and-enamel kitchen set that had seen better days—but would also bring decent money if Karl chose to sell it—and a single ratty, overstuffed chair that she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Who knew how many rodents were familiar with the piece?

Temporary environment. Remember that.

At the other end of the room was a small bathroom with a shower and an old toilet, plus a sink with a cheap replacement single-handle faucet that seemed out of place on the antique basin. The flooring was clean but disintegrating.

Taylor sighed as she stood in the doorway and surveyed the shower with the sorry curtain hanging limply from the cockeyed rod. She was so very much a soak-in-the-tub person.

Temporary.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, Taylor turned and headed out to the trailer to start schlepping boxes inside. It appeared she’d have to buy a mattress for the old bed frame. Or better yet...

She pulled the cell out of her pocket and dialed her grandfather’s number.

“You made it okay?”

“I did. I hit a small bump at the motel I stayed at last night, but I’ll fill you in on that later.” Because Karl was protective and, despite what Cole might think of her, she didn’t want to upset him unnecessarily. “I’m calling to ask if there’s an extra mattress in your house that I could borrow while I’m in the bunkhouse.”

“There’s a bed in the spare room with a decent mattress, but you should clear it with Cole.”

“I will. But if he has no issues, then I can tell him you have no issues either, right?”

“Right.”

“Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll settle in today and then start the job search tomorrow.” She smiled a little. “I’ll keep you posted this time. Sorry about before.”

“Not a problem. Don’t wear yourself out moving in.”

“No worries. Thanks, Grandpa. Talk to you soon.”

Her smile faded as she pocketed the phone. Twenty-four hours ago she’d said goodbye to her real life, and now she needed to adapt to her new, temporary life. She’d make the best of it, come hell, high water or a good-looking, stubborn farm-mate.

She turned toward the door, going over her schedule in her head. She’d unload the trailer, take inventory and try to figure out what was missing, make a shopping list, return the rental trailer to the local dealer, nicely ask farm guy to help her with the mattress—

The scream ripped out of her throat as a huge rodent appeared out of nowhere, almost running over her feet as it scurried toward the bathroom.

She was barely aware she was moving, but somehow she ended up outside where there were likely many more of the killer rodents. Wasting no time and barely allowing her feet to touch the ground, she made a dash for the SUV and leaped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her.

Her heart was hitting her ribs so hard that she couldn’t catch her breath, and that was when she felt dampness on her cheeks. What had she done? What horrible thing had she done to deserve losing her apartment, being robbed and getting attacked by a rodent in less than one day’s time?

A tap on the window made her jump a mile. Farm guy was there, peering into her window with a scowl on his handsome face. She took a chance and turned on the ignition so that she could roll down the window a crack.

“What?” The single word irritated her beyond belief, even as she told herself that this wasn’t his fault.

“There’s a rat in the bunkhouse.”

“Really?”

The words that jumped to her lips at his disbelieving tone were not pretty, but Taylor managed to swallow them. “It ran in from outside.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. He shook his head and stalked away toward the bunkhouse. Taylor rolled the window back up, leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes. Her lashes were wet as they hit her cheeks.

Damn.

Her new temporary life sucked.