Winning Over The Cowboy. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

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      “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

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