looked, and all he saw were columns of figures. “Okay…”
She rubbed the back of her neck as if it were stiff from a night of heavy mathematics, then gestured at the book. “Last night I crunched numbers. Based on the salary mentioned during the interview—”
“Did you get the job?” If so, he was buying a celebratory bottle of whiskey.
“I have reason to be optimistic.”
Good reason, he hoped.
“If I stay here for six months, I’ll be in a better position to resume my life.”
“Let me see if I understand this…you want to stay for free in the buildings I’m renting.”
“You aren’t using the bunkhouse.”
“I could be.”
She let out a breath, and he could almost see her counting to ten. “Why,” she asked slowly, “can’t you give me a break?”
“Because you expect it.”
“No,” she said carefully, “I don’t.”
“Yeah. I think you do. I think you’ve spent so much time focused on your needs and your achievements that you expect everyone else to be, too.”
“And you came to this conclusion because of the rotten-floorboard incident?”
“I guess it started when you tried to bully me out of the house I rented.”
“You are more suited for the bunkhouse.” Her voice began to tighten, but she seemed to catch herself. “You grew up on a ranch.”
“And I’m renting this ranch…farm. You invaded it. I let you. But only while you were out of work. That was the deal, and I don’t want to renegotiate.”
“This is a big farm. Do you have some kind of complex about being alone?”
“Yeah. I do. I’m still recovering from my last job, dealing with the rich and famous.”
She gave him a long, slow look. “By rich and famous I assume you mean spoiled and entitled.”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“And you also mean me.” He didn’t respond. Taylor was nothing if not sharp, and now she was sharp and angry. Blue fire sparked in her eyes.
“You judgmental prick.” She jabbed a finger at his chest as she spoke, and he automatically caught her hand and held on, stopping her in the middle of the second jab. Taylor yanked her hand free and took a step back. Just one, probably so it didn’t appear to be a full-fledged retreat. “You’ve given as good as you’ve got, Cole. It’s like you’re taking out all your previous job frustrations on me.”
“Maybe so. But if you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be able to do that.”
She smiled up at him. “I can take it if you can.”
“You won’t have a chance. You stay longer than four weeks, I’ll charge you rent.”
She picked up her notebook and the pan. “We’ll see about that.”
A moment later she was gone, leaving only the delicious aroma of the coffee cake she’d brought to bribe him with.
He should have eaten first and argued later.
* * *
COLE HAD DECIDEDLY mixed feelings as he pulled off the highway onto the road leading to the Bryan Guest Ranch, which had simply been the Bryan Ranch until Miranda gained control of the outfit.
The operation would have scraped by, as older ranches do, having good years and bad, but Miranda had wanted more, and by converting one of the ranches into a ritzy guest ranch and leaving the smaller sister ranch as a pseudo-working ranch where guests could enjoy “authentic” ranch life, she’d essentially tripled their incomes.
Cole didn’t have a problem with that. He had a problem with the way Miranda had set herself up as queen, and after her husband died, she became unbearable. The guests loved her because she catered to them. The workers, those that weren’t in her pocket anyway, despised and distrusted her. If not one of the chosen few, she could draw you into her inner circle one day, then viciously attack you the next. You never knew which Miranda you were getting, but odds were if you were on salary, you were going to see her scary side.
Her relationship with Cole had been different from the rest of the staff, since he was family and she needed him. That didn’t slow down her passive-aggressive attacks, but she didn’t hit him with them full on as she did the other employees. Jancey was another matter. Yes, she was family, but Miranda didn’t need her in the same way she needed Cole. After she started college in the fall, Jancey would work only summers and that was mainly because of her stubborn determination to stay on the family ranch. “I won’t let her chase me away from home,” she’d muttered the last time they’d discussed the matter. Cole wished her well, because Miranda had succeeded in chasing him away from home. For now anyway.
When he hit the fork in the road with the expensive carved wood signs, one pointing to the Bryan Guest Ranch and the other to the Bryan Working Ranch, he took the right, heading for what would never feel like home again.
Jancey came out of the house wearing her canvas coat and worn jeans that were at least two sizes too big. Raiding what was left of his closet, as she’d done since she was in junior high. She pushed her thick blond braid over her shoulder and leaned against the newel post, waiting for him to park.
“Nice jeans,” he said as he got out of the truck. “And they seem so familiar.”
She looked down at the washed-out denim, then back up at him, a smile lighting her eyes. “If you can’t keep track of your stuff, then it’s fair game.”
“I think you hide my stuff.”
“Only when I need a comfy pair of work jeans.” She came down the steps, and they walked together toward a corral where several calves were milling around. “Sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah. Not a problem. I can work in the feedings around my other chores.”
“Good, because my duty schedule has become so unpredictable, it’s hard to get here when I need to be here.”
“How many days until you go back to school?”
“One hundred and twenty-two.”
“You’ll make it.”
“I know. I know, but I’m getting a little sick of being on call after hours. Miranda keeps sending people to get me for horse emergencies. Want to know how many of them are real?”
“She’s trying to show you who’s boss.”
“Or just being herself.” Cole put a hand on the back of her neck, and she leaned her head into his arm. “You left the ranch because of her, right?”
He frowned down at her. “I have to earn
