Page 9 of Mister Cowboy
Michael pulled on a black t-shirt over his head and shrugged. “You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their bartender.”
A twinge of anger pierced through her heart for him. She’d seen how hard he worked opening and running a profitable bar, and she hated to think the egotistical suits and trophy wife wannabes whom he served had tainted it all. People were so damn judgmental when your life didn’t fit society’s standard for success and social standing.
“You’re the barowner. I’m not sure that counts.”
“Either way. I’m good at reading people. He seems like a good guy, but I’ll stay and make sure everything is kosher if it makes you feel better.” He held open the door and jingled the car keys. “Now, let’s move. You’re going to be late on your first day.”
* * *
“Wow. This place is straight out of a Louis L’Amour novel,” Michael whispered as he stepped out of the car.
“Who in the heck is Louis L’Amour?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the scenery only long enough to flash him a questioning glance. Then she was right back to slowly turning in an attempt to take it all in at once.
Her brain wasn’t sure where to look first, the landscape, the house, the barn, the animals. Animals? What had she gotten herself into. The closest she’d ever had to a pet was a goldfish that lasted exactly three hours before going belly up.
“What is this place?”
“If my research has served me well—and it usually does—this is the Blackstone family ranch.”
“Your research?”
“I may have poked around a little after you two seemed to hit it off.”
She punched him in the arm as he laughed at her shocked expression. “What? I had to make sure you weren’t going to end up trapped in some kinky sex ménage.”
“You’re late.”
Whipping her head around to meet his stare, she drank in the sight of Brecken and fumbled for words to respond as her brain and mouth betrayed her.
The man had presence. She forced herself to breathe as she stared at his arms, which were crossed tightly over his chest. The closed-off posture caused his biceps to strain against the form-fitting suit jacket and announced every muscle and ridge in his large upper body. She was just getting to the tight slacks when Michael cleared his throat.
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wavering. Stepping forward, she spoke more confidently. “I assumed I would be working in the office. You didn’t say I would be working here.” She gestured in exaggerated circles.
Holding her breath as his eyes washed over her from top to bottom, her body tingled with an anxious energy. He pressed his arms tight across his pecs and pushed his chest out. His body language read annoyed, but his eyes were warm and teasing. “I was clear in my instructions to meet me at the address I wrote down right in front of you.”
Crap! He had her there. She’d been more enamored by his stately name etched across the card than the words he’d scribbled on the back. “Yes, but I think it’s safe to assume anyone in my position would have been easily confused by the offer.”
“And I don’t think it’s safe to assume anything. Ever,” he said and turned on his heel, walking off toward the house.
With wide eyes, she turned to Michael, who shrugged. Years of etiquette classes couldn’t have prepared her for the bristly behavior and frosty greeting Brecken just gave her. Both were a stark contrast to the man she’d met a few days ago, and she wasn’t sure if she should follow him or get back in the car and leave.
“Are you coming?” he asked, not turning around.
“Y-yes.”
She gave Michael a brave nod, hoping like hell she was doing the right thing by following a man she knew next to nothing about into a house in the middle of nowhere. No matter what Michael thought, she wasn’t sure “good guy” was the way she’d describe Brecken. Domineering? Bristly? Check and check.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to a wrap-around porch attached to a large two-story house. The outside of the house had a traditional, homey feel that made his formal attire and behavior more pronounced. He looked over his shoulder to where she stood frozen in place. His signature half-smile appeared, and she willed her feet to go after the gorgeous man and forget about the off chance he might be a psycho.
“I guess he can come, too,” he said, pointing at Michael. “I’m assuming he’s here to make sure I don’t bury you out back.”
She refused to look at Michael but heard his quiet snicker anyway. She wouldn’t apologize for ensuring her safety, not ever.
Instead of replying, she pulled her shoulders back and smiled sweetly. If she was really going to do this, she needed to start taking this seriously. She was here to do a job. One that hopefully paid well and would ensure she wouldn’t have to get a job flipping burgers or worse, ask her father for help.
January marched forward with her head held high, trying to ignore how devastatingly handsome he was with his dark suit contrasting against the country landscape. Truthfully, her heart beat rapidly in her chest, as if it were trying to decide if it was going to stop beating all together or force her legs to run toward him and beg him to kiss her.
“My resume,” she said, thrusting the heavy stock cream paper at him.
