Читать книгу The Cowboy's Double Trouble - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 8
ОглавлениеWhile the kids sat in the back of his crew-cab truck, cuddling their new rabbits and chattering to them in Spanish, Braden loaded the ranch supplies into the back. He’d just locked the tailgate when Paco Ramirez, the owner of the feed store, drove up in his white Chevy Tahoe.
Braden could say hello to the man and then take off and let Elena tell her father about the deal they’d just struck, but that hardly seemed fair. Besides, he wasn’t one to avoid conflict or to be rude to someone he normally did business with. So he headed over to Paco, who was just climbing out of his SUV, and extended his hand in greeting. “Hey, there. I hoped I’d see you this morning.”
“How’s that sprinkler system working out?” the older man asked.
“Great. That south pasture is looking pretty good now. Valley Ag Supply had it installed sooner than I expected.”
“Did you tell them I sent you?”
“I sure did. And they gave me a great deal. So thanks for the recommendation.”
“No problem,” Paco said. “When you’re ready to purchase those calves, I know a rancher about twenty miles north of Wexler who’s looking to sell.”
The older man might only be a small-town business owner, but he was a great source for referrals.
“Thanks,” Braden said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Grandpa Miller had raised rodeo horses until his passing, and while Braden would continue to do so, now that the ranch was his, he wanted to expand and run some cattle, too.
He’d never expected to become a rancher. In fact, he hadn’t had plans to do anything other than to ride rodeo, like his grandpa Miller had. But when his grandfather first became sick last year, Braden had come home to help his mother with the ranch. And now that the ranch had become his... Well, he’d sort of fallen into the lifestyle. Not that he minded. He’d been raised for it, he supposed. And while he had the money to do whatever he wanted in life, he didn’t flaunt it.
Paco glanced into the truck bed. “What have you got there?”
“Cages for the two rabbits I just purchased.”
The feed store owner chuckled. “I take it that you met my daughter Elena. She suggested we run a special on the small animals. Ever since she was seventeen and we had our grand opening, she’s been a great saleswoman.”
“Yeah, well, I have two kids staying with me for the time being, and when they saw the bunnies on display, Elena didn’t have to do much hard selling. Although, come to think of it, I hadn’t realized a sale on rabbits would turn out to be nearly a hundred-dollar investment in cages and food and whatnot.”
“That’s my girl.” Paco lifted his John Deere cap off his head and ran a hand through his thinning dark hair. “I’ll have to give her a raise.”
Here was the opening Braden needed. But how did he go about telling Paco that he’d stolen his best employee away from him? Braden might not have his older brother’s business acumen, but he prided himself on being a straight shooter and an honest negotiator.
He supposed there was no other way than to just come out and say it.
“I hate to tell you this,” Braden said, “but I just convinced your daughter to jump ship. I offered her a better position.”
Instead of showing disappointment or raising his hackles, a slow grin slid across the store owner’s face. “As much as I hate to lose her, she’s a bright girl. I’m sure she’ll be an asset to your family’s corporation.”
Braden had never had anything to do with Rayburn Enterprises, his father’s business. And he’d never even wanted to. It was Jason who ran the business now.
“Actually,” Braden said, “I asked her to come and stay at the Bar M and be a temporary nanny for the kids.”
Elena’s father stiffened, and his grin morphed into that frown Braden had been expecting to see a moment earlier.
Paco was a good man, a family man with strict, cultural values. He probably had qualms about his daughter moving in with a single man at the Bar M, even if everything was aboveboard.
“She’ll have her own room,” Braden added. “And it’s just a temporary position.”
“Not that she isn’t good with kids, but my girl has her head and her heart focused on her future and she’s not easily swayed by smooth talkers or macho cowboys. How’d you manage to talk her into that?”
He’d bribed her, that’s how. He’d tempted her with more money than she could earn from her father in three months and then agreed to pay off her student loans—without even asking how much they were. Yet while his method might have made Charles Rayburn proud, something told Braden it wasn’t going to sit well with Paco Ramirez.
“I’m in a real bind,” he admitted. “And it’s just for three weeks. The kids staying with me don’t speak English. And with my Spanish being practically nonexistent, I’d be hard-pressed to order a beer with my dinner in Laredo on a Saturday night. So I need someone to help me look after them until my brother gets back to Texas.”
Paco took a look into the truck. Hadn’t he noticed the kids before? Had he thought Braden was pulling his leg?
“What’s Jason going to do with the kids?” the older man asked.
“Become their legal guardian, I suspect. We...uh...” He glanced in the cab, noting that the windows were up. While he knew the twins wouldn’t understand him anyway, Jason hadn’t talked about their situation in front of them—and Braden wouldn’t, either. “Apparently, my father had a secret family in Mexico. Beto and Maribel are my little brother and sister. Jason brought them to Brighton Valley, and I’m looking after them until he and Juliana get home from their business trip in Europe.”
Paco merely looked at Braden in awkward silence, as if this new twist in his paternal family’s notorious dysfunction was somewhat expected. Braden himself was a Rayburn bastard. He was used to the pitying looks the good people of Brighton Valley passed along to the unorthodox and ever-expanding brood of Charles Rayburn’s offspring by multiple women. Really, it should be no surprise that Elena’s father was too polite to voice his disapproval at the scandal.
So then why did he clench his fist like he used to when he was back in grade school and the kids used to ask him why his daddy lived with another family?
Elena was an adult and could make her own decisions, but Braden didn’t feel quite right about the way he’d orchestrated the whole thing. Trouble was, he was so desperate, he’d be damned if he’d put too much thought to it. Otherwise, he might try to backpedal on that job offer. And then where would he be?
“Looking after the kids won’t be her only duty,” he added. “I’ve also asked her to modernize my grandfather’s old accounting system. If I’m going to run the ranch right, I’ll need to have everything digitalized. And she’ll be a big help with that.”
Paco seemed to think on that for a moment, then said, “Elena is a good girl.”
Braden wasn’t sure where he was going with that. Or why his expression had sobered. “Yes, sir. I’m sure that she is.”
“Just so you know, I had a good relationship with your grandmother, Rosabelle Rayburn. And I knew your father.”
Damn. Did he think that Braden was a chip off the old block? It was true that he might resemble Charles Rayburn, but that didn’t mean he’d inherited his father’s character flaws.
He just hoped Paco didn’t think this was a ploy for Braden to get his single daughter alone and seduce her. Maybe he feared that the fertile apple didn’t fall too far from the scandalous Rayburn tree.
“All I ask is that you be good to my daughter and treat her with respect,” the man said.
“You have my word.” Braden reached out and offered a handshake to seal the deal. He didn’t have any qualms about making a promise like that to Paco. Trouble was, the older man’s words had struck him to the quick.
The truth of the matter was, as hard as Braden had tried to emulate his grandpa Miller, he wasn’t entirely sure how much of Charles Rayburn’s genes he’d inherited.
* * *
By the time Elena arrived at the ranch, Braden had practically paced a furrow in the front yard deep enough to plant corn.
Okay, so he’d just kicked up a little trail dust. Still, she was a sight for sore eyes—and in more ways than one.
She drove a small blue Honda Civic—nothing out of the ordinary. But when he saw her climb out from behind the wheel, his pulse rate shot up as though she’d just blown in on the Texas wind, holding a magical umbrella and a black carpetbag containing a spoonful of sugar.
Thank goodness she was finally here.
But damn. She’d changed out of the snug jeans that had molded her shapely hips and now she wore a colorful gypsy-style skirt and bright red tank top. Her dark hair had been swept into a twist of some kind back at the feed store, but it now hung loose along her shoulders in a soft tumble of glossy curls.
What do you know? His Spanish-speaking Mary Poppins had morphed into a sexy Latina beauty.
How could a lovely woman become even more beautiful in a matter of hours? She’d said that she couldn’t come out to the ranch until afternoon, when her father finished making deliveries and could finally relieve her at the store, but it looked as if she’d spent the entire time fussing with her hair, makeup and outfit.
Not that he was complaining. She’d mentioned that she had fashion sense, but he’d had no idea just how true that statement was.
“Where are the kids?” she asked, as she reached into the trunk and pulled out a suitcase.
“They’re on the back porch, playing with their rabbits.” He probably should offer to carry in her things, but for the life of him, all he could do was stand in the middle of the yard and gape at her like a moonstruck teenager.
Get with it, man.
As she proceeded to the front porch, she asked, “Are you having buyer’s remorse?”
“No, I want you here.”
She laughed. “I didn’t mean me. I was referring to those bunnies.”
Of course she was. If he hadn’t been having a testosterone moment, he would have picked up on that immediately.
“No,” he said, “I’m not at all sorry about buying them.” He reached the screen door before she did and pulled it open for her. “In fact, I’m not even sorry that I let you talk me into buying two cages, watering receptacles and food dishes, not to mention five pounds of rabbit pellets and the shaved wood bedding you insisted they needed.”
She blessed him with a bright-eyed smile. “You could have gotten by with one large pen.”
“Yes, I could have,” he said, as she brushed by him into the living room, taunting him with a whiff of her exotic floral scent. “But it’s a known fact that rabbits multiply like crazy. And since neither of us knew how to tell the males from the females, purchasing two meant I could end up with more rabbits than horses on the Bar M.”
Her laugh had a magical lilt, making him again think of Mary Poppins until he took another look at her. There was no way anyone would confuse Elena Ramirez with a nanny. But that was okay with him. Just as long as she was bilingual and experienced with kids, she was going to work out fine.
“Is there someplace you’d like me to put my things?” she asked.
Yes, his bedroom. But he vanquished the inappropriate thought as quickly as it came to mind. He’d been gifted with an abundance of common sense, as well as self-control. And as long as Elena and the kids were staying on the ranch, he was going to need to exercise every bit of both.
He led her upstairs and down the hall to the guest room, which was across from the room he’d given Bela and Beto—and the farthest from his own.
“The kids have been happy and chattering up a storm ever since we got home,” he said, “although I really can’t make out what they’re saying.”
“I told you that pets were good for them. If they’ve been shuffled around a lot, the bunnies might give them a better sense of permanence—or at least security.”
“Yes, you did say that, and I’m sure there’s some truth to it, but I still think you were trying to sell some rabbits and all the paraphernalia that went with them.”
“You do realize,” she said, her caramel-colored eyes sparkling, “that my father has a return policy.”
He laughed. “And don’t think I’m not tempted to take advantage of it. But I don’t want to disappoint those kids. Besides, I need my peace and quiet. I’ve also been putting off chores since they arrived on Sunday, so I have a ton of work to do. And now that you’re here, I plan to get after it.”
She smiled. “Go right ahead. I’ll settle in; then I’ll find the kids. What do you have planned for their dinner tonight?”
“I...uh...” He shrugged. “Nothing in particular. But don’t worry. There’s plenty to choose from. I stocked up on a bunch of easy-to-fix, kid-friendly stuff at the market yesterday. So you have the option of hot dogs, mac and cheese, chicken tenders, pizza or frozen burritos.”
“That’s not very healthy.”
“Okay, I admit I like junk food. My mom usually did all the cooking when she was living at home, so I got my share of healthy stuff. Now that I do it myself, I make the things I like to eat. Don’t get me wrong. I like home cooking, but I can get that at Caroline’s Diner or when my mom invites me over.”
“Where is your mom?”
“She married her old high school boyfriend a couple of weeks ago and moved in with him. Erik—or rather, Dr. Chandler—has a medical office in town, and she’s going to be his receptionist.” It had all happened so fast, but Erik had been such a kind and loving support to her during her father’s illness that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for them to have gotten back together. Braden just wished she would have invited him to Vegas when they’d tied the knot during a weekend trip. But then again, they’d apologized and said it had been a spontaneous decision.
He glanced at Elena, whose brow was furrowed. He got the feeling that she was probably a health nut, and he didn’t want to concern her or scare her off the very first day. “I actually like cooking, but I’d be willing to share kitchen duties—if you want them.”
“I like cooking, too. So I’ll trade off with you.”
“Sounds good to me. Feel free to take charge of the household—that is, if you want to. You can even go to the market and purchase anything you think the kids might need.” He reached into his front pocket, pulled out a wad of cash and peeled off a couple of hundred-dollar bills, handing them to her. “I had a feeling their visit was going to cost me. But that doesn’t matter.”
“I suppose it doesn’t. A Rayburn can pretty much pay for anything he wants and hire anyone he needs.”
Braden felt a trickle of heat steal up his neck. It was an easy assumption that all the negative Rayburn traits were passed down to him, yet he spent his whole life striving to live up to the more admirable qualities of the Miller side of his family.
Yet hadn’t he done just that today—paid for what he wanted?
He wouldn’t fault himself for it, though. He’d only gotten what he needed. Elena not only spoke Spanish, but she was experienced with kids. She was also a business major who could prove to be helpful in the home office—if she ever found any free time.
Bad thing was, she was gorgeous, which meant he’d have to keep his mind and his eyes to himself.
Still, she was the perfect solution to at least one of his more recent problems. And before he knew it, Jason would be back to take the kids off his hands.
It was going to cost him plenty, but he had a slew of money tucked away in that trust fund he rarely had need of. Besides, whatever it cost to get by as peacefully as possible for the next three weeks would be well worth it.
As Braden led Elena to the guest room, he couldn’t help but smile. The good old Rayburn business ingenuity had saved the day once again. Braden’s father would be proud of him.
Yet that realization raked over him like fingernails on a blackboard, causing his gut to twist and his conscience to rumble. Very early on, Braden had learned a simple truth that his father apparently never had. Money could buy just about anything but love.
* * *
Elena stood beside the guest bed and watched Braden head out the door and turn down the hall. It was difficult to imagine him as one of three heirs to a billion-dollar corporation, especially when he was clearly a rancher and dressed as a cowboy.
He was handsome, to be sure. Intriguing, too. A man to be studied, especially if she wanted to know what made him and his family tick. Not that she really needed to know anything about him or his siblings. Yet there seemed to be something vulnerable about him. She wasn’t quite sure where that suspicion had come from. Still, it niggled at her just the same.
As she unpacked her clothes, a task that wouldn’t take long, she thought about what her father had told her before she’d driven out to the Bar M.
Braden had grown up on his maternal grandfather’s ranch. Gerald Miller, a former rodeo cowboy who raised horses on the Bar M, had been well thought of in the community, just as Granny Rayburn, Braden’s paternal great-grandmother, had been.
On the other hand, his father hadn’t been able to escape country life soon enough and had rarely returned, even for a visit. From what Papa had said, Charles had gone to a private college in California and had quickly adapted to the lifestyles of the rich and famous.
Elena couldn’t help wondering about the family dynamics, especially since Papa had claimed Charles Rayburn had been a world-class womanizer—and had only been married to two of the four women who’d born his children. But she wasn’t being paid to figure out their dysfunction. She had a job to do, and she’d better get started.
After putting away the last of her lingerie in the top bureau drawer, she closed her suitcase and placed it in the closet. Then she made her way to the kitchen and out the mudroom to the back porch, where Bela and Beto were playing with their new pets.
Braden had been right. The kiddos appeared to be happy with their bunnies.
“Como se llaman los conejos?” she asked the kids.
Maribel grinned proudly and held up her brown bunny. “Oso.”
Elena smiled. Bear seemed like a funny name for a sweet, gentle rabbit. But the little girl obviously didn’t think so.
“El blanco es de mío,” Beto said, “se llama Cowboy.”
Hmm. He’d named his white bunny Cowboy, not Vaquero? Apparently, Braden had been teaching them English. She’d have to work on that, too. It would make things easier for the kids, especially if they were going to start school in the fall. What was the plan with these children anyway? Where would they go when their three-week stay was over?
But that was a question for their guardian, not the poor kids.
After they chatted for a while, she left them on the porch to take inventory in the kitchen. She checked the items Braden had stocked in the pantry, as well as the refrigerator and freezer.
In spite of nearly a case of macaroni and cheese, she found brown rice, pasta and canned vegetables. She even spotted spaghetti sauce.
There were two gallons of milk in the fridge, which she’d feared Braden might have neglected to stock up on. She saw juice, too. There were even a few fresh veggies in the crisper, although the green pepper and tomatoes looked as though they’d been there for a while.
Next, she swung open the freezer door and gasped when she saw all he’d crammed in there—personal size pizzas, frozen burritos, ice cream, Popsicles...
As she shuffled the boxes around, she found some ground beef. She might be able to pull off fixing a spaghetti dinner tonight, rather than a feast of junk food.
For a moment, a wave of rebellion washed over her. She hadn’t studied her butt off in both high school and college to become a babysitter or a short-order cook.
But then again, she’d accepted the nanny job. And if there was one thing to be said about her, when she made a commitment, she followed through with it.
She blew out a sigh. She wasn’t about to go shopping this late in the day, so it looked as though she’d have to make do with what she could find. And fortunately there was a well-stocked spice rack and quite a few canned goods.
Braden had said he didn’t know anything about kids, but by the stuff in his pantry, she suspected that, deep down, he might still be a kid at heart. That was good because it meant that he’d soon adapt to the change in his life and get used to having his little brother and sister around.
But it would be bad if he turned out to be some spoiled rich boy who thought he could boss her around or slack off on his duties thinking the poor help would gladly pull his weight. She didn’t care how good the cowboy looked in his Wranglers.
She returned to the back porch and explained to the children that they only had thirty minutes to play with their pets before it was time to put the bunnies back in the cages. Then they’d need to wash up for dinner.
Unlike her own brothers and sisters, at least one of whom surely would have had some kind of objection, Bela and Beto readily agreed.
With the start of a game plan in place, Elena returned to the kitchen and made a list for her trip to the market, including plenty of fresh fruits and veggies. She’d never wanted to be a chief cook and bottle washer, but if that was on her job description, she intended to be the very best one Braden Rayburn ever had.
* * *
By the time Braden finished up in the barn and headed for the house, dusk had settled over Brighton Valley. He was bone tired and hungry enough to eat a horse—not Chester, of course, who was practically family at the ripe old age of twenty-two. But his gut was grinding and growling to the point that he’d wolf down just about anything else.
He had no idea what Elena had planned for dinner—whether she’d cooked or if she wanted him to take them all to Caroline’s Diner. They hadn’t really talked about what her duties would be at the house. Maybe he should’ve laid out a better job description before hightailing it out to repair a corral this afternoon. Only trouble was, after lifting lumber and hammering nails for the past three hours, he didn’t feel like driving anywhere, especially with a truckload of kids.
Maybe he ought to suggest pizza. The frozen ones weren’t nearly as good as the ones he could have delivered, although neither could hold a candle to the ones made at Maestro’s. Either way, the kids probably wouldn’t complain.
As he made his way into the kitchen, he found Bela and Beto seated at the table, eating spaghetti with meat sauce that had chunks of tomato, zucchini, peppers and onion. They were so busy slurping up the noodles that they hardly looked up or even spoke to each other. But he couldn’t blame them. If the food tasted as good as it smelled and looked, he’d be in heaven before he swallowed the first bite.
His gaze lit on Elena. In a sunflower yellow half apron his mother had left behind, she looked like a beautiful domestic goddess.
She’d pulled those abundant brunette curls up into a twist—no doubt to keep them out of her face while she cooked.
What a shame. He preferred to see her hair hanging loose, the way she’d worn it when she arrived earlier.
She leaned against the kitchen counter—taking a well-earned break, he supposed—and eyed him as closely as he was studying her.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Yes, but no longer for food. However, there was no need to open that hot topic of conversation. So he said, “Dinner smells amazing.” She was amazing. “Where’d you learn to—” he swept his hand across the kitchen “—to do all of this?”
“Not in college.” She smiled, then pushed away from the counter, turned back to the overhead cupboard and removed a plate.
Okay, so she’d given him a clear reminder that she hadn’t studied to be a nanny, wife or mother. And in spite of what appeared to be a delicious meal and a tidy kitchen, her message came through loud and clear.
In fact, so did her sexy, don’t-call-me-matronly appearance. Had she done that on purpose? Had she planned to make sure that she dressed in a way that kept him from having any domestic thoughts about her?
It would seem so. That gauzy skirt and red tank top that molded to her body set his hormones pumping—even though they were slightly hidden by his mom’s apron.
Elena turned around, and in spite of holding a heaping plate of pasta loaded with sauce that must be for him, he couldn’t help but gaze at her eyes, at her face. He swallowed—hard.
Whether she realized what was going on in his testosterone-loaded bloodstream or not, she swept past him. Her light, exotic fragrance taunted him as she placed his plate on the table. “Here you go.”
“Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked.
“I don’t eat red meat. In fact, I’m practically a vegetarian.”
Seriously? It didn’t make sense that she would cook beef tonight. Most women—well, the vegetarians he’d dated in the past—would have made some kind of tofu-quinoa crap and tried to convince him and the kids how tasty it was. Although, he suspected that an old cowboy boot would have been lip-smacking good if it had simmered in that sauce long enough.
“You didn’t have to make something you weren’t going to eat,” he said. “The kids and I would have been okay with the bean burritos.”
She shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of processed food, either, so I figured you’d rather have beef.”
Sure, he liked it but he usually opted for fish or chicken when he had a choice. “The meal looks great, but what made you think I’d prefer red meat?”
“Because this is Texas. And my father told me that the Bar M will be raising cattle soon.”
“So what are you going to eat?” he asked.
“I just finished a small bowl of pasta, along with some of the veggies and sauce before I added the beef. So go ahead and have a seat. As soon as the kids are finished, I’ll take them upstairs and supervise their baths.”
Braden ate alone all the time, but for some reason, it felt awkward for him to do so tonight. Was this some passive-aggressive attempt to remind him that she was the hired help and they were not to socialize in any way?
But he was too hungry to ponder the thought, so he shook it off and said, “Sounds like a plan.” It also sounded as though she had everything under control.
Yet as she herded the kids out of the kitchen, leaving him to eat in peace and quiet, he couldn’t help watching her go—and wishing she hadn’t sworn off Texas beef and possibly even the small-town cowboys who raised them.
