Page 22 of Candy Coated Curves

Just then, Blake’s phone rings. He grabs it off the table and is answering it before he even walks away.

“What can I do for you, Quinn?” she asks, propping her hip against the edge of the table like she’s settling in to chat.

“I just thought I’d warn you that I'm about to cause some trouble on your behalf.”

Her brows raise and she gives me a grin. “Are you, now?”

“Because I don't like men putting their hands on you. And clearly they don't know how to hear the word no.”

An expression flickers across her face that I can’t quite read. Like she’s surprised and a little amused. She pats my shoulder. “That’s very sweet of you to try to come to my rescue, but I promise, I can take care of myself.”

“You put up with this kind of thing every night?”

She shrugs, which is as a good as admitting that yes, she does. “Just part of the job.”

“Sounds like you need a better job.”

She laughs, a sound that’s unexpectedly husky given how sweet her speaking voice is. “I’d take one if I could get it. But good jobs around here are hard to find.”

Just then, Blake returns to the table. Right in time for him to hear the end of our conversation.

“You should give her a job, Quinn,” he says, sliding into the booth.

“What?” I snap.

Amber raises her eyebrows in surprise, looking from me to Blake and back again.

“You should give her a job,” he repeats slowly. He takes a long draw on his beer, not bothering to hide his smug grin. “You’ve been saying for months now that you need to hire a housekeeper.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yeah. You have.” He looks at Amber and starts chatting with her like he’s conducting a damn job interview. “Quinn and his siblings own and run The Little C Ranchdown near Saddle Peak. Quinn, Harrison, and Roe all live on the ranch and they need a cook and housekeeper.”

“No, we don’t. Roe got married and moved in with his wife.”

But the rest is true. And our youngest brother is coming home from college soon. Also, I have been saying it for months. But now? Faced with the prospect of Amber filling that position. Je-sus. This is the last damn thing I need.

Blake ignores me. “What do you think, Amber? That sound like something you could do?”

She gives him a long look, before turning those clear blue eyes in my direction. There’s a question there in her gaze, like she’s waiting for me to comment. After a beat, she flashes Blake a superficial smile. “I think I don’t want to be the object of anyone’s charity. Besides, I’m a damn good cook so I doubt he could afford me.”

“Oh, if anyone needs charity, it’s Quinn,” Blake says smoothly. “You should see what his cooking is like. It’s a miracle he hasn’t starved to death, yet. Besides, if we have to sit here and watch those guys harass you all night, he might have an aneurysm.”

“I’m not going to have a damn aneurysm,” I grumble.

I can’t make any promises about my behavior though, because I just might lose my shit if those guys keep putting their hands on her.

As if Blake can read my mind, he says, “Yeah, he’d probably do something stupid to defend your honor though, and then I’d have to clean up his mess.” Shaking his head, he adds, “I'll have to bail him out of jail. And I really don't want to have to do that.”

“You boys are a riot. I’ve got to get back to work though because Earl is over there giving me the stink eye.” She tilts her head in the direction of the bar.

Sure enough there’s a crusty old guy behind the bar, arms folded over his beer belly, and a scowl aimed straight at Amber.

As calm and confident as she was dealing with the customers, something in her gaze goes skittish when she glances at her boss. That something raises all kinds of alarm bells in my head.

“Does he put his hands on you, too?” I ask.

She shivers at my question, but tries to hide it behind a smile and chuckle as she shakes her head.

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