Page 8 of Claimed By the Cowboys
“What about you Blackwood boys getting yourselves some help around the ranch, hmm?” She raised a silvery brow.
I threw back my head and laughed. “Miss Evelyn, do you think we haven’t tried?”
I could have shown her all the different candidates we had interviewed in an attempt to find someone who could bridge the gap between cook, childcare, and other support for the day-to-day needs of the ranch hands, but none of them had worked out.
“If you find someone up to the job, I’d like to meet ’em!” I spread my arms wide, an invitation for her to give me her best shot.
Evelyn smirked at me before calling back over her shoulder. “Hey, Piper! Sweetie, why don’t you come on out—I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Piper?
The cute little redhead who’d just scampered into the back?
Fuck.
Chapter 5
Piper
“Do you want the job?” The tall alpha, who claimed to be Montana, asked.
It wasn’t surprising that I’d mistaken him for Dakota. They were identical ineveryway. The moment it had dawned on me that there were two of them, my brain had immediately vacated to the gutter.
Stupidly hot and rugged cowboy twins.
“I-I do.” I nodded.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t sound too confident.”
“It’s been a hard twenty-four hours.” I shrugged.
“Are you sure you’re okay? The last thing I want to do is take advantage…”
“Where is your ranch?” I asked, struggling to keep eye contact with him. His gaze was so intense, full of thought. Even though I had only just met this twin, I got the impression he was the more serious of the two. In my short meeting with Dakota, he had come across as a bit more playful and mischievous.
Both were incredible in their own ways.
“Is that your car?” He nodded out the large glass windows of the diner to Lance’s Mercedes.
“It’s a car that I drove here,” I muttered, doing my best to avoid the truth. Getting in trouble for grand theft was not the best way to impress a potential employer.
Montana cleared his throat. “Well, then, why don’t we just leave the keys with Evelyn and go pick up your things to bring to the ranch?”
“There’s not a chance in hell I’m going back to that place to pick up my stuff,” I blurted before I could think better of it.
That actually drew a small smile across Montana’s face.
“Fine by me, Miss Collins. We can head back to the ranch, get you settled in, and figure out the rest from there, if that’s okay with you?”
“Yes, Mister Flint, that is fine by me.”
“I know this is sudden, but we desperately need help, and you appear to be in a pickle, so we may as well help one another.”
The drive from Evelyn’s Diner to the ranch couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.
We passed a few local stores, then pulled down an unpaved road, Montana’s truck passing beneath a wood post and hammered iron sign that readBlackwood Ranch.
We drove up to a large field lined with wooden fences, the main ranch house and massive roof barn still a good ways away down the dirt road.
