stopped beside his truck and looked at Ry in puzzlement. “What’s all this have to do with me?”
Ry reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping. “She advertised in the paper for a part-time handyman. We’d appreciate it if you’d apply for the job.”
Luke stared at the clipping, his gut clenching in dread. “Is this a nice way of saying I’m fired?”
Ry choked a laugh. “Hardly. You know we couldn’t run the Bar-T without you, Luke. We just need someone to keep an eye on our cousin. Look out for her. The job’s part-time and probably short-term, which means, if you get the job, you’d work whatever days she needs you and work the rest of the time at the ranch. Once she no longer needs you, you’d be back here full-time.”
Luke scratched his chin. “I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “I’m not much on being around folks.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” His expression somber, Ry clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “We need your help, Luke. Ace, Rory, Woodrow, Whit—we’ve all talked about this, and we decided you were the best man for the job. You’re good with your hands. Can fix almost anything that’s put in front of you. But your most important qualifications are your honesty and your loyalty to the Tanners. We know that we can trust you to look after our cousin.”
Luke wanted to refuse. Agreeing to the proposition would mean talking to a woman, spending time around one, something he avoided at all cost. But he owed Ry. If not for Ry and his skill as a surgeon, Luke might’ve lost the use of his hands, and without his hands…well, they might as well have shot him and put him out of his misery, ’cause he was no good without them.
“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll apply for the job. But don’t blame me if she turns me down,” he added.
“And why would she do that?” Ry asked. “You’re more than qualified for the job.”
Luke tipped back his hat and pointed a finger at his face. “Most women find this a bit hard to look at.”
Luke put off paying a visit to the Tanners’ cousin until the next afternoon. He would’ve put it off longer, if Ry hadn’t asked him at breakfast that morning if he’d talked to her yet. Knowing there was no sense in avoiding the “interview” any longer, he made the drive to the hunting lodge.
Upon the death of Buck and Randall Tanner’s father, the Bar-T—the Tanner ranch—had been divided between the two brothers. Buck, the older of the two, had received the bulk of the land, and Randall had inherited the lodge and the five hundred acres of land surrounding it. Luke had heard that Buck, Ry’s father, hadn’t been pleased with the split, which was ridiculous, considering Buck had inherited the lion’s share of the sizable Tanner estate. Rumor was, Buck had tried to buy the property from his brother and when Randall refused to sell, Buck had never spoken to him again.
Luke shook his head sadly as he parked his truck in front of the old lodge. Buck Tanner had been a stubborn man, one whose life was filled with more drama than all the soap operas on television put together. And he had been mean. He was probably rolling in his grave right now at the thought of his brother’s daughter moving into the old lodge.
With a sigh, Luke climbed down from his truck, snugged his hat low over his brow and walked to the front door. Freshly turned earth marked a long trench that ran from the well house to the lodge, suggesting a plumber had recently laid new lines. Making a mental note to report the repairs to Ry, he rapped his gloved knuckles against the thick cedar door, then waited, silently praying that his knock wouldn’t be heard and he could leave with a clear conscience, knowing he’d at least tried. He was just about to turn for his truck, when the door swung open with a creak.
“Can I help you?” a woman asked.
Luke stole a glance at the woman from beneath the brim of his hat and was surprised to find that she was a good deal older than he’d expected.
Keeping his gaze cast down, he drew the classified ad from his shirt pocket. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve come about the ad you ran in the paper.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have any remodeling experience?”
“Not specifically,” he admitted. “But I’m good with my hands. I can handle a saw and hammer well enough, and I can fix just about anything that’s broke.”
“Do you drink?” she asked bluntly.
He glanced up in surprise at the question, then quickly dropped his gaze again and shook his head. “I enjoy a cold beer every now and then, but I’m no alcoholic, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Do you have a police record?”
He bit back a smile at the woman’s persistence, thinking the Tanner brothers were wrong about their cousin. There wasn’t a doubt in Luke’s mind that this woman could take care of herself. “No, ma’am. Last traffic ticket I received was for speeding, and that was a good five years ago.”
Still eyeing him suspiciously, she stepped aside. “All right. You can come in.”
He didn’t look up at her but stepped inside, wondering if this meant he had the job. The room she led him into was the main room of the lodge and probably forty feet square. It was obvious that more repair work was going on inside, as the room was bare of any furnishings. Paper covered the floor and crackled with each step he took as he followed the woman across the room. The odd lengths of electrical wire scattered about indicated an electrician had been working on the wiring.
“Lauren is out back,” she said, gesturing to a set of French doors. “Working on the porch. She’s the one who’ll decide whether or not to hire you.”
Luke stared at the retreating woman in confusion. “You’re not the one who placed the ad?”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “No. Lauren did. Lauren Tanner. She’s the owner.” She gestured toward the doors again. “Go on out and talk to her. See what she has to say. Chances are she’ll hire you. She could definitely use the help.”
Before Luke had a chance to say anything more, the woman stepped into another room and closed the door behind her.
Wishing he could head back to the ranch and forget his promise to Ry, Luke heaved a sigh and strode for the door. Once outside, the sound of hammering drew him to the far end of the porch. A pair of beat-up tennis shoes and denim-covered legs were his only view of the person swinging the hammer from a ladder perched against the roof of the house.
“Ms. Tanner?” he shouted, in order for her to hear him above the banging noise.
The hammering stopped and a head appeared below the edge of the roof. Luke bit back a groan when he found himself looking at the woman who had dumped the dog on him. The family resemblance was so strong, he was surprised he hadn’t made the connection the day she stopped him on the road. She had the Tanner eyes, blue as a summer sky. And her hair was the same inky black as the Tanner brothers.
Although he was careful not to expose his face, she must’ve recognized him, too, because her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “Did you change your mind about taking my money?” she asked irritably.
“No, ma’am.” He pulled the classified ad from his shirt pocket again. “I’m
