The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride Page 2

  She’d never expected to be attracted to him. She barely remembered him from high school. In fact, she couldn’t recall having a single conversation with him back then. How had she overlooked him? He had thick, dark hair begging to be touched, and his midnight blue eyes seemed to notice everything. He was as fine a physical specimen as she’d ever seen.

  A rugged, handsome cowboy.

  Thankfully, he was all wrong for her. The strong, silent types were perfect for managing a ranch, but as far as dating? Not likely to sweep her off her feet any time soon.

  She opened the front door and took off her coat and boots before heading to the living room and sitting on the couch. Her cell phone showed missed calls and texts, but she only checked the one from Jerry. Clint was on his way.

  Even if she hadn’t been overwhelmed trying to make double the business decisions as usual, she couldn’t imagine dating anyone at this time and certainly not Clint. She wanted romance with a capital R, and after Doug, she’d decided under no circumstances was she settling for ho-hum. She wanted breathless kisses. Heart-pounding anticipation. A man who loved her enough to make a grand gesture or two. Someone who valued marriage and wanted kids.

  She wanted more than any guy had offered her so far, and Clint, for all his curling eyelashes and silky, touchable hair, seemed too reserved to be that guy.

  Besides, she had to hire him. She was out of options. She’d interviewed five men for the job, hired one, fired one. With the drought and extra expenses from the new barn, the ranch needed someone with experience who understood how to manage its resources wisely. And after losing Daddy, she couldn’t bear to lose her home, too.

  A knock on the door startled her. She opened it, once more struck by Clint’s blue eyes. She waved for him to follow her into the living room.

  “Well, what did you think?”

  He perched on the edge of the chair, hat in hand. “It’s a fine operation. Jerry’s done a good job running it since...well...” His eyebrows drew together, and he cleared his throat.

  “Yes.” She clasped her hands tightly. Thinking about Daddy being gone formed an instant lump in her throat, one she’d gotten adept at ignoring. Somehow she needed to find a way to get over the pain of losing him that had taken up permanent residence in her heart. “Jerry’s been a blessing. For many years.”

  “Why don’t you have him manage it?” The question was simple, open, pure curiosity.

  “He doesn’t want to. His wife’s been asking him to slow down. He’s getting older. Said I needed a long-term solution. And Logan isn’t interested, either. He’s the most experienced full-time ranch hand, but he only plans on staying here a year or two more. He and his wife want to move back to Casper after they save enough money to buy a house.”

  Clint nodded, a lock of hair dipping across his forehead. She forced her attention to her raggedy fingernails. Flipping through the papers she’d left on the end table earlier, she found the list she’d typed.

  “Jerry and I discussed it, and we think you’re right for the position.” After naming his salary and benefits, she went over his duties and wrapped it up with living arrangements. “We have a few empty cabins, a two-bedroom guest house and a three-bedroom manager’s house. Logan lives in the manager’s house with his wife, Sarah, and their children. She’s the ranch cook. If you’d like, I’ll ask them to move, but...”

  “No.” He shook his head. “One of the cabins will be fine.”

  “Does this mean you’ll take the job?”

  “I’ll take it.” His eyes glinted, reminding her of a wild storm on the prairie, all lightning flashes and black clouds rolling in the distance. Spectacular. Exciting.

  Maybe Jerry was onto something with the whole wild horse analogy. And maybe Clint wasn’t as reserved as she’d originally thought.

  “When can you start?” she asked.

  “When do you need me?”

  “Yesterday.” She sighed, waving her hand. “Sorry, it’s just been hard on the crew. They’ve all had to step up and take on way too much responsibility here for weeks now. I know you need to give your employer notice and—”

  “I’ll move in this weekend and start Monday.”

  Just like that? She wanted to raise her fist and yell, “Yippee!” but she said a silent prayer of thanks instead. “Perfect. As for the living arrangements, I appreciate you allowing Logan and Sarah to stay in the larger house, but I insist you take the two-bedroom guest cabin. You’re in a position of authority here, and your lodging should reflect it.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you have any questions?” she asked. “Any concerns?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Clint, we graduated high school together. Ma’am makes me feel like I’m a hundred and fifty years old. Call me Lexi.”

  “I don’t know if I feel right doing that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, if you’re going to be my boss, I think it should be more formal.”

  “I will be your boss, but we’re going to have to be comfortable enough with each other that you can come to me with any problems. We’ll be meeting weekly on Thursday mornings to discuss the ranch. I might not be involved in the daily operations, but I am very invested in its future.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. This is your ranch. You should be invested.”

  “Exactly. Jerry has paperwork for you to fill out. I’ll meet you down there in half an hour to show you to your new home.” She held out her hand. “Thanks, Clint, for coming today. Welcome aboard.”

  The warm strength in his callused hand assured her she’d chosen wisely. He dipped his head and left. As soon as the front door clicked shut, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her hand trembled as she filled the cup. She kept forgetting to eat. Maybe a piece of toast to go with the tea...

  How had her life changed so drastically? One minute she was on top of the world, succeeding at her dream job. The next, plunged into the abyss of her father’s death.

  Six months. That’s how long it had been since she’d visited Daddy. He’d appeared to be in fine health in May. They’d ridden on horseback around the ranch the way they always did. She’d had no idea he had cancer.

  Had he known?

  Of course not.

  If he had known, he would have told her. She would have come back, gone to the doctor with him, made sure he got chemotherapy and radiation and anything that would have saved him. But they hadn’t known. And now it was too late.

  Why didn’t I make more of an effort to come home this summer? He must have been sick. Must have had some symptoms. And I wasn’t here to notice.

  Her throat tightened the way it had repeatedly since she’d gotten the call from Jerry saying her father had died.

  When she’d told Clint this ranch was the only thing left of her parents and her childhood, she’d meant it. And she wasn’t about to lose it, too.

  * * *

  As Lexi gave him the tour of the two-bedroom log cabin, Clint mentally tallied a to-do list. It was dusty, but the open area with the kitchen, dining and living room was larger than his current apartment’s, and the master bedroom had a nice view of the mountains. He planned to take his coffee first thing each day on the covered porch. Frankly, it was the nicest place he’d lived in and, even unfurnished, it felt like home.

  Home. A sense of foreboding killed his good mood. Had he ever belonged anywhere? If he started identifying this place as home, he’d lose it, the way he’d been torn from every other place where he’d felt comfortable.

  He needed to remain detached.

  At least the main house was up the lane far enough for him to maintain a necessary distance from his boss. Other than weekly meetings, he saw no reason why they would need to see each other.

  “The river’s great for fishing, and feel fre
e to use the ATVs anytime. If you need help moving in, just holler. I’m sure one of the ranch hands would be happy to lend a hand.”

  “Yes, ma’a—” He caught himself. “Thank you, Miss Lexi.”

  She leaned against the kitchen counter and glared. “Clint, Jerry, who is seventy-five years old, calls me Miss Lexi. It’s Lexi. Just Lexi.”

  He itched to smile, but she looked paler, more tired than she had earlier. He studied her more closely.

  Thin. Too thin. Dark smudges under her eyes. Cheekbones jutting out. Her clothes hung on her. Was she eating enough? Or at all?

  She had the look of someone who’d had to be strong for too long. It reminded him of moving into his first foster home after his grandfather died when Clint was six. Even though Grandpa had been mean as a rattler, when the man passed, Clint knew deep inside he was all alone in the world and his life would never be the same. Did Lexi feel alone, too? He wanted to tuck her under a blanket on the couch. Protect her.

  He shook his head. Him protecting her? What a laugh. She didn’t need someone like him.

  She stepped forward and wobbled.

  “Have you eaten lately?” He moved closer, ready to catch her if she fainted.

  “What?” She blinked, shaking her head, and swayed. He reached for her, steadied her.

  “Come on, I’ll take you back. You need some food.”

  “I’m fine.” Her protest sounded weak. “I had some toast a little bit ago.”

  “It’s five thirty. You need a meal.” He kept a loose hold on her arm and led her to the door. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped. “Zip up. You don’t want to catch cold.”

  To his relief, she didn’t argue. She zipped her coat and fell in beside him. When they reached the house, he followed her inside. A napkin with a half-eaten piece of toast lay on the end table. Probably the only food she’d eaten today.

  “Sit on the couch, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “I couldn’t ask you—”

  “I’m not driving back to Cheyenne on an empty stomach. I’ll make some supper and get out of here.”

  She sat on the couch, looking lost. “Okay.”

  He opened her fridge and pantry. Chicken broth, noodles, frozen carrots. “Are you saving the chicken in the freezer for anything?”

  “There’s chicken in the freezer?”

  He chuckled under his breath. “I’m using it.”

  After opening cupboards and drawers, he had a good idea of where everything was stored. He chopped an onion, defrosted and diced the chicken, and heated oil in a frying pan. He filled a large pot with the chicken stock and set it on the stove to boil.

  Lexi crept up and sat on one of the bar stools opposite him. “What are you making?”

  “Chicken noodle soup.”

  “Really, you can cook?”

  He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be here, in her house, going through her kitchen. It was too intimate.

  She wiped her fingers across her forehead. “I never really learned.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried to stand by the patio door as she answered the phone.

  After stirring the chicken frying in the pan, he tracked her moves. Voice bright and confident, hand reaching for the pen and paper on the coffee table. Phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled something. When the call ended, she seemed to deflate, and he quickly turned away.

  “I forgot to mention I’ll be out of town next Thursday through Sunday. It’s the final wedding I’m in charge of for the year. My other planners are organizing the rest.”

  “Okay.” He slid the cooked chicken into the boiling pot along with the noodles, onions and carrots. A pinch of salt and pepper, and he dialed the burner down to simmer for a while. “If you don’t cook, what do you do for meals?”

  “Well, in Denver, I order a lot of takeout. I’m usually working late, anyhow.”

  “But you’re here. And there’s no takeout.”

  “I manage.”

  Not very well, from the looks of it. He doubted she’d eaten more than a bowl of cereal all week. “Why don’t you eat with the rest of the crew?”

  She grimaced, shaking her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable, and neither would they.”

  She had a point there. “You mentioned a cook—Sarah, right? She would probably fix you a plate.”

  Lexi shrugged, a wistful expression in her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  He could tell she had no intention of asking Sarah for a meal. He’d stop over at the manager’s house soon and have a quick chat with Logan and his wife. One of the hands could pick up a meal from them to drop off at the main house each night. Whether Lexi ate it or not wasn’t his concern.

  Her phone rang again. She smiled an apology and answered it, walking away. He couldn’t imagine a job with constant phone calls. He stirred the soup, decided it was ready, and ladled out a bowl for her. She was sitting in a chair, saying something about bouquets and cost overages. He’d done his duty. Made her food. She wouldn’t even notice if he left without eating. Sharing a meal with her seemed a little too cozy at this point.

  But as he sneaked out to his truck, his mind kept returning to her and the bowl of soup he’d left. He didn’t want her fainting. Didn’t like that her clothes were hanging from her.

  She’s not my problem.

  He’d been hired to manage the ranch, not the ranch owner. Sure, she was alone and grieving and not taking proper care of herself, but fixing it wasn’t within his realm.

  As he drove past the paddocks, he barely noticed the property that had so mesmerized him earlier. He’d better get his focus back on the cattle and the land where it belonged. He’d finally gotten the nerve to try working on a ranch again. He couldn’t make another mistake and ruin this, too.

  Chapter Two

  Visions of weddings and twinkle lights and Clint filled Lexi’s head. Well, not all three together. She sprayed glass cleaner on the new desk she’d installed in the front den. Clint was only on her mind because he was on his way over for their first official ranch meeting. She hoped it wouldn’t be awkward. The weddings and twinkle lights were remnants from the weekend, when she’d organized her final wedding of the year.

  Two weeks had passed since she’d hired Clint, and she hadn’t seen him much, except in passing. They’d nod and exchange pleasantries before going their separate ways. Strictly business.

  Strictly business was good. She could pour her energy into weddings, where it belonged. Except she kept thinking back to the night she’d hired him. He’d cooked her soup. Soup! And it had been the best chicken noodle soup she’d ever tasted. She’d indulged in two bowls that night. She’d slept well, too, which was saying something, considering her sleep had been spotty and elusive for a long time.

  After wiping the desk clean, she straightened the shelves and displayed the latest bridal magazines she’d brought back with her from Denver. She moved the floor lamp to the corner and studied it before picking it up once more.

  “Can I help you with that?” Clint stood in the doorway. He wore a plaid navy-and-white Western shirt with jeans and boots, and a file was tucked under his arm.

  “No, just finishing up.” She plastered on her brightest smile. “Come in. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, have a seat.” She sat in the swivel chair behind the desk and fired up her laptop. “How is your house? Are you settling in okay?”

  “It’s fine.”

  Didn’t exactly answer her question, but she wasn’t surprised. Something told her their weekly meetings weren’t going to be as conversational as the ones she led in Denver. She was used to chatting about the latest trends in weddings in her chic conference room w
ith her team of creative professionals. Talking about the ranch with Clint would most likely be brief and to the point.

  Clint was currently eyeing her new office. She almost laughed at the frightened look on his face when his gaze landed on her vision board. Swatches of silks, photos of various flowers and motivational quotes in gold calligraphy adorned it.

  She took pity on him and clicked through to the checklist she’d created. “Before we get started, I think you should know I’ve never been involved in ranch operations. Growing up, I helped Daddy move cattle, of course, but...well, you know more about this than I do.” She scanned the notes she’d typed after asking Jerry what to expect on the ranch each month. “Let’s see... I’m assuming the calves have all been weaned?”

  “Yes, they were actually weaned by the time I moved in. We’re keeping a close eye on them. Getting ready to sell. I looked over your winter feed program. We’ll continue your father’s plan this year.”

  “As opposed to what plan?” She enjoyed watching him as he talked. Cattle seemed to loosen his tongue; animation lit his face.

  “The calf sale date is on the books for the second week in December.” He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “But prices will rise after the new year, and if we spent the money to feed the calves longer, they’d weigh more, and we’d get a bigger return on investment.”

  The words bigger return on investment were precisely what she loved to hear. “Do you have numbers?”

  He opened his folder and handed her a sheet of paper. A spreadsheet held the number of cattle, the amount of feed needed through the winter and the estimated calf sale price for every month until March.

  “But what about the drought? Will we have enough hay stored to feed them along with the rest of the cattle?”

  “We would have to supplement with outside feed.” He sounded gruff.

  “Which, I’m assuming, would be expensive.” She wasn’t sure how to read him, so she studied the spreadsheet more carefully. “What you’re suggesting—do you think it would be smarter to wait a few months to sell the calves?”

  He didn’t make eye contact. “I think you should do what’s best for the ranch.”