The problem was, she was beginning to want to proposition him. At least in fantasy...
Heat climbed from her chest to her neck and face. “I believe that you really do need help for this worthwhile cause, but why does it have to come from me? Surely you could hire a party planner or caterer.”
Finished eating, Justin leaned toward her, forearms on the table. “We don’t have the budget for that. Plus, word would get out. And since entertaining is going to be part of the ranch director’s job...” He let the thought trail off.
Unbidden, another wall came tumbling down. One that, perhaps, should have stayed intact. “So to help them take you seriously, this has to be well-done,” Amanda guessed.
His mesmerizing blue eyes found hers. “You got it.”
She bit her lip, intrigued despite herself. “How many guests are you going to have?” She did like cooking for a crowd.
“Twelve,” he replied, setting his glass down. “Thirteen, if you’ll come and speak to the rest of the guests about your own experiences turning your life around and how it led to you becoming the upstanding adult you are today.” He glanced at her admiringly. “Because clearly whatever it is—whatever it takes to connect with an at-risk kid—you have in spades. I can see it in your dealings with Lamar and the way he instinctively relates to you.”
Amanda didn’t know what was worse. The thought of wanting to hit on Justin—when he was so obviously off-limits and out of her league. Or being simultaneously recruited to plan and cook for his party and be the star of his dog-and-pony show on dysfunctional childhoods.
Thoroughly insulted, Amanda set down her napkin and stood. “I have to hand it to you, McCabe. You really know how to make a gal feel good.”
He seemed taken aback by her sarcastic tone.
“The answer is no,” she snapped. “To all of the above.”
And no to the idea of ever making a play for him, as well. Heaven help her, she thought wearily as she strode from the kitchen. When would she ever learn?
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, it didn’t take Lamar long to notice the atmosphere. “Is Amanda mad at you?”
She’d certainly taken his compliments—and request for help—the wrong way, Justin admitted ruefully.
Wishing he had even a small part of Amanda’s natural ability to communicate with troubled kids, Justin asked his teenage charge, “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. I saw her shoot you this look when she was heading over to the bunkhouse. She was definitely angry.”
Justin sighed and ushered Lamar through the lodge onto the back deck, where the sun was already beating down. The heat had risen past an uncomfortable ninety-five degrees, and it was barely past nine o’clock. “I may have ticked her off last night when I asked her to do me a favor that would help out the ranch.” Justin whistled and all five dogs came running.
Lamar hunkered down to pet them and was soon covered with doggie licks and kisses. Reveling in the unchecked affection, Lamar looked up at Justin. “That doesn’t sound like Amanda. Seems like usually she’s happy to help out with stuff. She even volunteers. Like with lunch yesterday. I mean, she didn’t have to feed us, but she did.”
“Yeah.” Justin had also been surprised by this morning’s standoffish attitude. “Maybe I just caught her at a bad time.”
The only thing he knew for sure was that Amanda had felt used or manipulated. Which rankled. All he had really wanted was to find a way to bring down the barriers she had erected around herself and get to know her better. So something else a heck of a lot more satisfying than just friendship might be possible. But that hadn’t happened. Worse, he had undermined whatever small gains he had made in his pursuit of her.
And he was, Justin admitted reluctantly to himself, pursuing her. Despite the fact he had promised not to make a pass at her. While she was working on the ranch, anyway. Once that was done, all bets were off....
“Am I going to be helping her today?” Lamar asked hopefully as he gave the dogs a final pat and rose to his feet.
Justin pushed aside the disappointment that he was still a less than acceptable choice from the teen’s point of view. But, like Amanda said, he had to remedy that by giving the kid something he could accomplish and feel good about. “No, you’re going to be assisting me,” Justin said, ignoring Lamar’s immediate scowl of displeasure. “First off, we need to give the dogs a bath.”
Dismay quickly turned to trepidation. “All five of them?”
Justin nodded, figuring the task would take a good part of the morning to accomplish. “They need to be bathed before we put on their monthly flea and tick medicine.”
Lamar shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m going to be any good at that, either.”
Justin refused to let fear of failure get in the way, for either of them. “Do you know how to pet a dog?”
“Sure...”
Justin smiled and pressed on, “Do you know how to take a bath yourself?”
The boy scoffed. “Well, duh.”
“Then you’ve got all the skills you need.” Justin went into the mudroom off the kitchen and pointed to the shelves. “Grab the leashes, that stack of towels and the box of treats.” Justin picked up the rest of the supplies and stepped out onto the long deck that ran along the back of the lodge where the dogs were still waiting curiously.
One by one, Justin roped the leashes to the railing and then snapped the secured leashes to their collars. He asked Lamar to turn the water on and bring the hose up on the deck. Already sweating himself, Justin adjusted the handheld sprayer to the shower setting and handed it over to Lamar. “Let’s wet them all down first.”
While he did that, which also cooled the dogs off, Justin made sure the towels were well out of the way and opened up the shampoo and conditioner bottles. He handed one of each to Lamar, instructing, “Soap, rinse, condition and rinse again.”
The teen nodded, looking both serious and nervous, but Justin knew the kid would do fine once he actually got started. “Why don’t you start with Sleepy, since she’s the most patient?”
Lamar knelt down next to the dachshund–bassett hound mix. Sleepy lay on her side, lazy as ever and ready for a nap. Already starting to panic, Lamar looked at Justin. “How am I going to wash her?”
“Start with what you can reach.” Justin drizzled a line of shampoo down Roamer’s spine and began working it into his soaked coat. “She’ll get up.”
Lamar looked over at Justin and mimicked his actions. The teenager frowned at the dog’s fur. “It’s not lathering.”
“Did you use shampoo? Or conditioner?” Justin asked, belatedly figuring out what had happened. It was an easy mistake to make—the white plastic bottles all looked the same. Only the labels were different.
“Oh. Conditioner, I guess.”
“It’s
