Читать книгу Winning Over The Cowboy - Shannon Vannatter Taylor - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Birdsong heralded the bright summer morning. But Chase was all keyed up, despite the peace that always hovered over his grandfather’s old fishing cabin. Three axis deer, two whitetail and dozens of fish looked on from the pine walls. His grandfather’s hunting successes captured for eternity through the art of taxidermy. They always made Chase feel close to Gramps.

After her dousing, Chase hadn’t seen any more of Landry yesterday. Probably holed up in her quarters, licking her wounds. He could only hope she was packing.

His stomach knotted in anticipation as he set his coffee mug by his computer and typed in her name.

The search quickly produced an engagement announcement. He clicked on the newspaper and saw a professional-looking color photo. Landry was all smiles, standing behind a preppy blond man, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Reginald Billings Sr. announce the engagement of their son, Kyle Reginald Billings Jr., to Ms. Landry Ann Malone.

Mr. Billings Jr. is the chief operating officer of his family-owned corporation, Data Solutions, based in Dallas. Ms. Malone is a chef at Warren Dude Ranch in Aubrey. Mr. and Mrs. Billings Jr. will reside at their newly purchased Arbor Bed-and-Breakfast in Denton.

Chase checked the date. Almost a year ago, early September. Only weeks before she came to stay at the dude ranch. Why hadn’t the wedding happened?

Mr. Billings Jr. was obviously loaded. Had Landry landed him for his money? Was that why the wedding didn’t happen? He’d figured her out and called it off? She apparently hadn’t ended up with the B and B or she wouldn’t have come here.

Chase backed out of the newspaper link, then clicked on her Facebook page. It took him a few tries to remember the password his sister had used when she set up the dude ranch’s account, but finally he was in, and Landry’s wall soon popped up.

My happily-ever-after is only 1 hour away. With a dozen smiley faces.

It was her last post—on what should have been her wedding day. Nothing since. He scrolled down.

My happily-ever-after is only 1 day away.

He continued to scroll. She’d counted the days from the time of her engagement to her wedding day. Three months—every day interspersed with photos of traditional wedding dresses, flowers, cakes and decorations. Amidst it all, an elegant ultramodern dress completely different than the others with the comment, My dress Kyle chose.

Countless pictures of simple bouquets of those purple, droopy flowers that grew on vines in trees. An elaborate bouquet: My flowers Kyle chose.

Dozens of unpretentious two-and three-layer cakes with a bride and groom on top. A fussy cake with a roses spiraled up and around six layers, topped by a bride and groom in a glittery carriage: My wedding cake Kyle chose.

Looked like Kyle hijacked the wedding. Had Landry bailed because he was too controlling?

Three months worth of days focused solely on her wedding. Nothing else. Nothing about what she’d had for dinner, or vacation pictures, or “my cat did this or that” posts. Like a giddy bride and not a gold digger.

Pressure mounted in his chest as he clicked on her photos. He’d never been such a snoop.

No photos of her fiancé. Or of them together, for that matter. The only other pictures were of rustic dude ranches. With one fancy B and B in the mix. The caption: The Arbor Bed-and-Breakfast Kyle bought.

He closed the browser, guilt churning his gut. He was basically stalking her online. But with good reason. He had to figure her out. If she was a scam artist, he needed to know. He’d had his fill of those.

But did scam artists count down the days to their happily-ever-afters? Maybe if they were trying to reel in a rich guy. And right after her wedding-that-wasn’t, she’d landed at the dude ranch. In the Rest a Spell Room.

What had she said yesterday—she’d stayed there after Ky? Kyle. After Kyle what? His sister had been tight-lipped about the circumstances. Had Landry set a plan in motion to console herself with Chase’s family legacy?

He downed the rest of his coffee, grabbed his keys and locked up. Gravel crunched under his boots as he made his way to the ranch house.

If he was honest with himself, he knew Landry couldn’t have foreseen Eden’s diving accident or that she’d be named a beneficiary. And Landry seemed genuine. He could usually get a good read on people. Wasn’t easy to pull one over on him. He’d just have to spend time with her—figure her out a piece at a time. Until the puzzle that made up Landry Malone was complete.

Might as well get to it.

* * *

Day three. What would Chase pull today in his quest to get rid of her? Maybe they could forget yesterday and start over. She drew in a deep breath and crossed the great room, ready for battle.

He sat in a wingback in the foyer, reading a horse magazine. Her steps stalled.

Seemed harmless. But she’d keep an eye on him. Just in case.

The phone rang.

“You can get it.” He didn’t move.

Of course she could. She was half owner and didn’t need his permission.

She hurried to the reservation desk, grabbed the handset. “Chasing Eden Dude Ranch. May I help you?”

“Yes.” A pleasant-sounding woman. “I’d like to book a room for a week. We’d arrive a week from today. Do you have anything available?”

“Let me check.” She scanned the calendar on the screen. “How many people?”

“Two adults, two children.”

With Chase’s scrutiny, it took all her concentration to do a mental inventory of their rooms that would suit the caller’s needs.

“We have the Roundup Room, which has a queen and a twin bunk bed. Or we have the Tarry Awhile Room with a king-size bed. That room connects to our Wild Horses Room with two twin beds.” She quoted rates on both setups. “We also have an all inclusive package with trail rides, fishing trips, camping and three meals a day.” She quoted more rates. “Or you can pay only for the activities you utilize and meals when you dine in.”

“We’re visiting family near, so we’ll probably spend most of our days and meals with them. The two rooms sound perfect, though. Can we get both of them for the whole week?”

“You can.” Landry settled at the desk. “Let’s confirm dates, and then I’ll need a name for the reservation and a credit card.”

As she entered all the information in the desktop, she glanced at Chase. Watching her.

She closed her eyes, forced her focus back to the caller. “Since you have family near, have you been to our area before, Mrs. Collins?”

“Yes.”

“We usually offer to mail a brochure of area attractions in advance.” To encourage potential guests not to change their minds, Chase had instructed. “Would you be interested in that?”

“We’ll just pick one up when we get there.”

“All right, then.” She scanned the screen, making sure she’d entered everything required. “I have all that I need. We’ll look forward to your stay, Mrs. Collins. If you have any questions or concerns in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you so much.”

She ended the call. Without missing a beat, it rang again.

“Go for it.” He flipped a magazine page.

So, did he expect her to play receptionist while he chilled out? “Chasing Eden Dude Ranch. May I help you?”

“Yes.” A contrite woman’s voice. “I’d like to cancel our reservation for next week, please. The Martin family.”

Landry scanned to the reservation on the computer. A family of six—two rooms. “May I reschedule your stay for you?” She copied the reservation, credit info included, ready to paste somewhere else.

“No. I’m sorry, but Horseshoe Trails is running a special. We found a better deal.”

“I hate to hear that.” Should she offer to match the deal? Not without knowing what it was. Not without discussing it with her partner. Her gaze crashed into Chase’s. “Would you like to sign up for our newsletter to keep you informed on when we run specials?”

“That sounds good.” The woman carefully enunciated her email address.

Landry read it back to confirm. “Please keep us in mind for your next stay.”

The line went dead.

“Another cancellation? Let me guess. They’re taking their business to Horseshoe Trails.” Chase set his coffee cup down with a thunk.

“How did you know?”

“It’s the third one. Kind of cancels out the booking you made earlier. What was that about a newsletter and specials?”

“I think we should start one, and we need to discuss specials.” She wrote down the competition’s name on a scratchpad, circled it and underlined it. “Where is Horseshoe Trails?”

“Right down the road. Back when Granny and Gramps opened this place, there were only a few other dude ranches in the area. Now there are at least a dozen, and we all fight for guests.” He nabbed his coffee, stood and then strolled into the office.

She chased after him, stopped at his side in front of the back window. Miles of woods interspersed with pastures. Peaceful, like coming home.

“This place was always hopping when we were kids,” he said. “With trail rides, cattle drives, fishing and camping trips year-round. And the swimming pool in the summer. Never a dull moment, and guests had to book well in advance.”

“I know you want it to stay that way. So do I.” She hated to ask, but it was her business, too. “Is the ranch losing money?”

“Not yet. But business has been down. In the off-seasons, we barely break even.”

“We have to do something.” A hummingbird flitted about the feeder until another dive-bombed him.

“What can we do?” He splayed his free hand. “We can’t force people to stay here.”

“No. But we can find ways to lure them here.” The hummingbirds did a jousting dance in the air before the dominant one won. Much like her and Chase. “Do you know what Horseshoe Trails’s special is?”

“No.”

“We need to find out.” She turned to the desk, settled in the chair, Googled Horseshoe Trails. “Fifteen percent off regular room prices. And their all-inclusive package is ten percent cheaper than ours. Through August.”

“That’s basically giving rooms away.” He paced behind her. “We can’t pay our staff at those rates.”

“Can we pay our staff if we keep losing reservations?”

“Let me guess.” He stopped pacing at the back window. “You think we should match the offer?”

“We beat it. Drop our room prices and inclusive package five percent cheaper than theirs. Only for the rest of the summer.”

“You think that will work?” He claimed the nailhead chair across from her, sipped his coffee.

“Well, it’s not working as-is.”

“What about the guests who already have reservations?”

“We’ll specify that it starts with reservations made this week.” The desk chair made a creaking sound as she leaned back. “It won’t apply to already booked guests. Unless they call to cancel. Or unless they mention it.”

He hooked his leg over the arm of the chair. “We can give it a try. But what if they beat our offer?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there.” She lifted one shoulder. “Give me the password for the website and I’ll set it up.”

He hesitated, gaze locked on hers. “Only members of our family have the password.”

“Fine.” She huffed. “I’ll look away, you type it in, and then I’ll set up the content. You can watch me the whole time.” She stood. Walked off.

Keys clicked behind her. She struggled to hold her temper. He didn’t know her. Had no reason to trust her. But like it or not, he was stuck with her. For at least two months.

Maybe longer if he decided to stick around and run his half of the dude ranch.

“Okay.”

“We’ll need to keep a watch on the other dude ranches.” She strolled back to the desk, reclaimed the chair.

“And match all their offers, too?”

“Not necessarily, but we need to stay ahead of the game. Make sure we compete. Find things to draw guests here instead of the dozen other ranches they could stay at. Maybe add new features and activities.”

“Like what?” He pulled a chair beside her, the legs screeching across the hardwood.

“Pumpkin patches and corn mazes are popular.”

“Maybe next year. We’ve missed the planting season this year.”

“Miniature golf courses are big. Or maybe outdoor bowling lanes. We need things that appeal to everyone, not just horse lovers.”

“You’re good at this stuff.”

A compliment? Was that a nugget of grudging respect she saw in his eyes?

“I minored in marketing.” She turned to the computer. “Wow. How long’s it been since the website has been updated?”

“Eden took care of that.” The muscles along his jaw clenched. His glossy eyes reflected the powdery blue of his shirt. So much like Eden’s, changing from a myriad of green to blue shades, depending on what she’d worn.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me from Adam. But I loved your granny. And your sister.”

“I did, too.” His tone was defensive, as if he’d cornered the market on loving his lost family members.

“Eden left a huge hole in my life. No, we didn’t live close or get to spend time together often, but we were great friends. Whenever I needed to vent about something my family couldn’t handle, I called Eden. She often used me as a sounding board, too. I miss that.” Her voice caught. “Miss her.”

His throat convulsed. “Me, too.”

“What do you say we miss her together? Run this place together, honor her memory.”

He wanted to. It was there in his eyes. “We’ll see. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family legacy in my family.”

Squelching a sigh, she turned to the screen. He leaned close, then stood and eased up behind her. His woodsy cologne did a number on her senses. How could such an annoying, combative man smell so good? Not to mention, look so good.

As she added their new special rates and updated content on the website, he watched every move over her shoulder as if she planned to put in one price, then charge a higher rate and pocket the difference.

Her hands shook under his close scrutiny.

“Look good to you?” She waited while he inspected the changes she’d made.

“I approve.”

“I’ll do some research on the rest of our competition.” She logged out. “See what else we can do. Run some ideas by you.”

She’d just have to work harder. Prove her dependability. Earn his trust. If they were going to end up as business partners indefinitely, they needed to at least be amicable toward each other.

* * *

Landry scanned the bathroom, removed her latex gloves and sanitized her hands. The fixtures, floor and mirror sparkled.

Moving on to the bedroom, she snapped the top sheet in place with military precision, smoothed out every wrinkle and pulled the quilt and bedspread straight.

Day four and she’d found a routine. Mornings were for cleaning. Afternoons for cooking. Evenings for checking the competition. Reservations and tending to guests fell in whenever needed.

Along with trying to win Chase over. Get him to trust her. Whatever it took to ease their tense working situation. Even though she didn’t feel like she was getting anywhere with him.

With a skim of the lamb’s wool duster over the log lamp, wooden blinds and horseshoe knickknacks, she blew out a heavy breath and surveyed the tidy room. Satisfied, she picked up the plastic-handled tote loaded with cleaning supplies and exited the room. And smacked right into something solid.

Chase. Again.

She dropped the bin. Bottles and supplies bounced and rolled.

“Whoa.” Strong hands clutched her upper arms. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Sorry.” Her face steamed. “Still can’t seem to watch where I’m going.”

They knelt, picked up items, knees almost touching, hands grazing a few times as they stashed everything back in the carrier.

As she stood, he chased down a few strays, handed them to her.

“We all ready for our corporate newlyweds?” He checked his watch. “They should arrive any minute.”

“Suite cleaned, stocked with extra towels. Are they returning guests?”

“Not sure.” He ushered her in front of him toward the three stories’ worth of stairs. “Some company made the reservation. Footing the bill for two weeks.”

“They must be at the top of the corporate ladder.” She put it in gear to keep from holding him up. “We need to make extra sure they enjoy their stay so they return or at least tell others about us.”

“That’s our goal with all of our guests.” His tone came out gruff as they reached the foyer. “After we get them settled, I could use your help. The slow toilet has turned into a stopped-up one in the Trail Boss Room.”

Nice move. Surely he could handle blocked plumbing on his own, yet he seemed determined to share the dirty jobs with her. As if she’d give up her claim because some of the responsibilities meant getting messy. But he wouldn’t get rid of her that easily.

He looked out the front window. “Uh, from the looks of things, I doubt they’ll be taking any trail rides or fishing trips.”

Landry eased up beside him. The couple was barely out of their car, and already holding hands, staring all moony eyed at each other. Her cheeks warmed.

“Stop spying and get the door for them.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed a feather duster out of the cleaning closet and went to work on a spotless shelf.

Why had she and Kyle never shared that type of loving devotion? He’d reserved his affections for when he didn’t like what she was saying.

Chase opened the door and said, “Welcome to Chasing Eden Dude Ranch.”

She turned around to greet their guests.

“Thank you.” The pink-cheeked bride looked around. “This place is cool.” But her eyes didn’t stray away from her husband for long. Absolutely besotted with each other.

Becca approached from the kitchen.

“Becca will show you to the Lassoed by Love Room on the third floor, and I’ll get your luggage.” Chase stepped out, grabbed their baggage.

“This way.” Becca led them toward the stairs.

“Thank you.”

Landry waited until they disappeared up the stairs, then gathered a few supplies from the maintenance closet and headed up to the second level. She’d show Chase she knew her way around a plunger.

She slid her key card in the slot, opened the door. The faux cowhide bedspread cinched the Trail Boss as the favored room for business executives.

Within five minutes, she’d located the problem and removed it. Minutes ticked past. Where was Chase? Surely he’d settled the newlyweds by now. She perched on the side of the tub. Still, listening, waiting.

A key clicked in the lock.

Showtime. She flushed the commode.

“No!” Booted footfalls went into high gear and he bolted through the door.

She looked up at him with a satisfied grin.

“It’ll flood.” He jerked the plunger out of her hand.

The water level in the toilet swirled dangerously high. High enough to make her second-guess herself. But then it drained with a whoosh that matched her expelled breath.

“How did you do that?” His jaw dropped as he set his tool down. “I tried the plunger. Three times. I thought I’d have to turn the water off and pull the commode up to find the blockage.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I got it, because I’ve seen how you turn water off.”

His mouth twitched.

She held her hand up—still encased in a long latex glove, a big, rusty belt buckle with the image of a bucking bronc in her palm. Probably won at a rodeo.

“You reached down there and pulled that out?”

“It’s not my first rodeo.” She dropped the buckle in a baggy, set it on the counter as if it was all in a day’s work.

“I believe one of our guests reported that missing a few months ago.”

“Something tells me he won’t be wanting it back.” She tugged her glove off, dropped it in a trash bag. “You’d think he’d have heard it clank in there before he flushed.”

“Good job.” He ground out the compliment with a frown for good measure. “Be sure and disinfect before you prepare food for our guests,” he said as he stalked out of the bathroom.

Her smile widened as she soaped disinfectant up to her forearms in the sink.

She was a lot tougher than she looked, and Chase Donovan would soon realize that.