Cowboy Dad Read online

  A month ago, as the deadline for him to act approached, Aaron changed his mind. He was glad he did. Sparring with Jake made him feel truly alive for the first time since he’d knelt in that arena, an unconscious Hailey in his arms. She never woke up. The fall, a freak riding accident, had crushed her skull beyond repair. She died four hours later in a hospital bed, surrounded by people who loved her—and who disliked each other intensely.

  “Breakfast is at 6:00 a.m. sharp. Lunch at noon.” Jake set his paper aside. “You’ll eat with the staff, not the guests.”

  “Beats chowing on a can of refried beans in the back of my pickup.”

  Jake gave a noncommittal grunt. “Dinner at six. Then you’ll be required to eat with the guests.”

  “Really?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

  “Ranch policy. Not my personal one. The guests enjoy mingling with the hands.”

  “And that’s what I’ll be doing while I’m here? Ranch hand?”

  “Report to Gary Forrester in the morning. Before breakfast,” Jake emphasized.

  “The man who directed me here?”

  “Yes. He’ll decide your job.”

  If Jake were in charge of assigning jobs, Aaron thought wryly, he’d probably pick head manure shoveler.

  “Is Gary Forrester any relation to Natalie Forrester?”

  “Her father. He oversees our riding stock, the stables and the wranglers, among other things.”

  Aaron thought of the young woman he’d met earlier in Jake’s office. She’d done her best to downplay her natural prettiness. No makeup to accent intelligent blue eyes. She wore a stretchy headband that only half tamed a mop of wild blond curls, and baggy jeans and sweater that did little to hide a very female shape beneath.

  He wasn’t interested in complicating his life with romantic entanglements but if he ever changed his mind, Natalie Forrester would be a woman worth tangling with.

  “Do I talk to Ms. Forrester about paying for my room and board?”

  “You don’t pay.” Jake ground the teeth he’d been previously clenching. “Members of the trust receive meals and lodging as part of the deal.”

  Another man might have grabbed Aaron by the shirt collar the second he spotted him in the lobby and tossed him out on his rear. Not Jake Tucker. Settling disputes through a show of physical force wasn’t his style. Whatever efforts he employed to rid the ranch of Aaron—and he would employ them, Aaron was sure of it—were bound to be less direct, more subtle and cast no blame on him.

  He’d tried the legal route soon after Hailey’s death. The courts sided with Aaron, holding up the terms of Hailey’s will. At the time, he hadn’t cared. He’d wished, in fact, the judge had ruled against him.

  But a month ago, Aaron found a use for the income from his inheritance and a way to bring meaning to Hailey’s otherwise purposeless death.

  His former brother-in-law probably wouldn’t see it that way. But how Aaron spent the money from his share of the trust was his concern and his concern alone. Now, he just needed to keep that income rolling in. Which was what brought him to Bear Creek Ranch in the first place a mere two days before he would have forfeited his voting rights in the trust.

  The deal, as Jake called it, wasn’t complicated. Neither was it easy. Members of the Tucker Family Trust who didn’t already live on the ranch were required to stay for a minimum of eight weeks every year and work alongside the regular staff. It was the founding members’ intention that those who belonged to the trust and were responsible for making decisions affecting the ranch have a firsthand understanding of its operation.

  Aaron spent the past few weeks making the necessary arrangements to enable him to take some time off. He hadn’t advised Jake of his plans, preferring to surprise him. Aaron needed every advantage at his disposal if he were to last the full eight weeks.

  “Staff housing isn’t like guest cabins,” Jake said, “and is located on another part of the ranch. You’ll share your quarters with three or four other employees, depending on what’s available.”

  “Okay.” Aaron was no stranger to cohabitating with a bunch of guys. Ten years of traveling the professional rodeo circuit and living hand to mouth had taught him to make do with what was available. If that included sleeping on a hotel-room floor or in the back of his pickup, so be it.

  “Natalie will show you around.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Aaron meant nothing by his remark, but the unfriendly glare Jake shot him made him feel like a lecherous old man.

  “Stay away from her,” he snarled.

  “Hey, take it easy.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the conditions of the trust. You touch Natalie, you hurt her, and I personally guarantee you’ll never sit a bronc the same way again. Your rodeo career will be over.”

  Not much of a threat. Aaron quit rodeoing right after Hailey died. Apparently, Jake didn’t know, and Aaron didn’t bother to enlighten him.

  “Look, I’m not interested in her.” Since what Aaron said was the truth, he saw no reason to engage Jake in an argument. They would have enough problems getting along without adding to them.

  “Remember what I said.” Jake leveled a finger at him.

  Protective. He’d been like that with Hailey, too. Or, was it controlling?

  Considering the intensity of his warning, Aaron thought his former brother-in-law might assume the duty of showing him to his quarters. Instead, the phone on the desk rang, and he dismissed Aaron with a brusque “That’s all for now.”

  Natalie was waiting for him outside the office. More accurately, she was seated at a computer and looked up expectantly when he emerged.

  Aaron felt a small something when their gazes connected…and held. Not exactly a spark. More of a brief flicker. It was hard to tell. His sensors were pretty rusty.

  Maybe Jake had been right to warn him away from Natalie after all.

  If he wanted to stay, wanted to make this plan of his work, he’d be wise to heed that warning.

  Chapter Two

  “We’re fully staffed. The only bunkhouse with an empty bed in it right now is fourteen.” Natalie talked as she maneuvered the electric golf cart with practiced ease.

  Aaron gritted his teeth and held on to the seat edge as they took yet another sharp turn on an uneven, tree-lined dirt road that was more of a trail than anything else. “Fourteen’s my lucky number.”

  She chuckled. “You say that now.”

  “Why are you laughing?” He took his eyes off the road long enough to cast her a suspicious glance. “What’s wrong with the bunkhouse?”

  “Nothing.” Her grin widened. “It’s your bunkmates.”

  “I’ll manage. I’ve shared quarters with some real winners in the past. It kind of comes with the territory.”

  “Good. You’ll have the necessary experience to draw on.” She turned her wide and, he admitted, dazzling grin on him.

  It was contagious, and Aaron couldn’t resist responding. He was suddenly looking forward to meeting his bunkmates. Life, he realized, had become mundane. Today was the most enjoyment he’d had in he couldn’t remember when.

  Natalie had left her baby back at the lodge in the care of a young teenage girl named Briana. Jake’s oldest and, Aaron supposed, his niece by marriage. She’d heard about him—nothing good, based on the wary once-over she gave him. He liked her anyway because she obviously adored Natalie’s baby and couldn’t wait to swing the infant up in her arms.

  “Here we are.” Natalie brought the golf cart to a stop in front of a simple, yet well-maintained, bunkhouse. It was the third in a sizable row of bunkhouses, all alike except for the angle at which they were tucked into the hill.

  Aaron climbed out of the golf cart and retrieved his duffel bag from the back. He and Natalie had stopped first at the stables before coming here. Aaron checked on his horse, Dollar, and then grabbed his stuff. He traveled light. Another holdover from his former career.

  “A laptop?” Natalie asked, eyeing the black
computer case he slung over his shoulder.

  He purposely didn’t tell her why he’d brought it. “Is there a phone line in the bunkhouse?”

  “No. But the ranch has a wireless connection in the main lodge. It’s for the convenience of our guests, but the staff use it, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  She kept staring at the laptop, though she asked no more questions about it. “The dining hall is to the east of the main lodge. The building with the picnic tables out front and the big outdoor fireplace. You have about an hour and a half before dinner.”

  What had been a four-minute golf-cart ride would be a fifteen-minute walk. Aaron checked his watch. He had plenty of time to shower and clean up before meeting his coworkers at dinner. Or, was that employees since he technically owned one-eighth of the ranch?

  Better to come off as a coworker, he decided, if he wished to fit in and make friends with the staff. Aaron had a reason to be here, and it wasn’t to show anyone who was boss. He’d leave that to Jake.

  “See you at dinner,” Natalie said and drove off.

  Something else for Aaron to look forward to, he thought, watching her putt-putt down the road.

  Only after she disappeared from sight did he turn and walk up the steep path to the bunkhouse. At the door, he set down his duffel bag and tried the knob. The hinges squeaked when he opened the unlocked door, announcing his arrival.

  “Anyone home?”

  No one answered so he went inside.

  The bunkhouse was small, yet comfortable. A two-person breakfast bar separated the galley kitchen from the living room. Three rooms led off a short hallway; two bedrooms and a bathroom the size of a large closet. Furniture was sparse. Each bedroom contained a set of twin beds and a single dresser.

  Both rooms were occupied, as evidenced by shoes left in the middle of the floor and toiletries on the dresser tops. Aaron opted to wait and see which bed was available before stowing his things. Taking some clean clothes from his duffel bag, he hit the shower. He met two of his bunkmates when he finished a short time later.

  “Hey,” a guy with a scruffy goatee greeted him from the kitchen. He was wearing a tan shirt and matching pants. “How’s it going?”

  He appeared neither surprised nor annoyed to find a stranger using his bathroom. The same could be said for the guy on the couch, who wore an identical uniform and was stretched out with his feet propped up on a thrift-store-style coffee table, listening to his iPod.

  “Want one?” The guy in the kitchen held up a beer.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Can’t drink alcohol anywhere but inside your bunkhouse,” the guy told Aaron before tipping back his longneck bottle and taking a lengthy pull. “They’re real strict about that. If a guest sees you drinking, you’ll be fired on the spot.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Aaron unzipped his duffel bag and removed a plastic sack. He added dirty clothes to his growing pile. “Is there a laundry around here?”

  “Behind the dining hall.” The guy hitched his chin as if the laundry were right across the road rather than a good mile up it. “By the way, I’m Randy. That there is Skunk.”

  “Skunk?”

  Randy shook his head. “Don’t ask. You’ll just make him mad.”

  If Skunk knew they were talking about him he gave no indication. Head resting on the back of the couch, he listened to his iPod with closed eyes. He might have been napping except for the beer he raised to his lips every other minute like clockwork.

  “I’m Aaron.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Randy toasted him. “Where you from?”

  “Laveen, originally,” he answered, naming the small rural community southeast of Phoenix where he was born and raised. “I’ve been traveling a lot since I graduated high school.”

  “Yeah, haven’t we all.”

  “Which bed is mine?” Aaron didn’t suppose either of these two would make a bad roommate. Randy appeared agreeable enough and Skunk was quiet.

  A slow smile spread across Randy’s face. “Me and Skunk got the room to the right.”

  “Who’s in the bedroom to the left?”

  Randy’s smile expanded until it stretched from ear to ear. “Terrence.” He said the name with both reverence and amusement.

  Aaron got the distinct impression he was the brunt of some joke only Randy was in on. He decided to go along with it for now. Nothing wrong with a little sport among friends.

  “What do you and Skunk do on the ranch?” he asked.

  “Skunk’s with maintenance, and I’m with groundskeeping. He keeps the rental ATVs running for the guests. I pick up their litter.” Randy took another swig of his beer. “It’s not such a bad living I reckon. What about you?”

  “Ranch hand, I think. I’m supposed to report to Gary Forrester in the morning.”

  “You’ll be working with Terrence then.” Randy’s smile became ridiculously large.

  Aaron began to suspect he was in for a real treat when he met this Terrence, and not a good one. He was just getting the rundown on the community tipping pool when a heavy thumping sounded from the porch.

  Randy shot out from behind the breakfast bar. “Terrence is home.”

  Skunk opened his eyes and removed his headphones, letting them fall onto his lap.

  Whoever this Terrence was, he commanded a lot of attention.

  The door flew open. A tall, broad, dark figure stopped and stood, filling every inch of the open space. Arms ripped with muscles extended from a sleeveless work shirt. Boots—size thirteen at least—stepped over the threshold and came down with a hard clunk on the bare floor, the spurs jangling. A rattlesnake tattoo wound around a thick, corded neck.

  Aaron swallowed, admittedly intimidated. He’d met cowboys who looked more like homeboys, but never a cowgirl.

  “Hi, Terrence,” Randy chirped. “Meet your new roomie.”

  She stared at Randy as if she might eat him alive for breakfast. “My name ain’t Terrence. It’s Teresa.” She enunciated each syllable while pointing a finger at him with the same aggression some people raised a fist. “And you morons better start calling me that.”

  “It’s really nice to meet you, Teresa.” Aaron considered shaking her hand but decided she might inadvertently crush his fingers.

  “I don’t room with no one.” She glared at him. “That was the agreement when I took this job.”

  “Guess the agreement’s changed.” Randy burst into laughter. So did Skunk. They both shut up when Teresa fixed her glare on them.

  “We’ll just see what Natalie has to say about this.”

  “Why don’t I sleep on the couch,” Aaron suggested.

  “Good idea.” Teresa removed her hat and sailed it across the room. It landed on the coffee table, inches from Skunk’s feet. She wiped her damp forehead and patted her many rows of tight braids, woven with beads of all colors. “I’m taking a shower. Anyone who steps foot in the bathroom is a dead man.”

  No one so much as blinked.

  “She seems personable,” Aaron said when she’d gone into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

  When Randy and Skunk broke into more laughter, Aaron joined them. His good mood lasted up until dinner when everyone in the dining hall turned to stare when he and his bunkmates walked in.

  “What gives?” Randy asked, checking out all the gawking faces.

  “There’s something I didn’t mention,” Aaron said, wondering if their friendly treatment of him would change after he told them who he really was.

  “SO, WHAT’S HE LIKE?” Natalie’s mother, Deana, asked in a whisper that somehow managed to carry over the noisy din of the crowded dining hall.

  There were twenty-nine employees currently on the Bear Creek Ranch payroll. By Natalie’s estimation, each and every one of them was there, eating dinner and staying long after they’d finished for another look at Aaron Reyes. Her mother was no exception, sneaking less than discreet glances his way every few seconds.

  �
��Seems pleasant enough,” her father said. He was one of the only people there more concerned with eating his apple pie than Aaron Reyes’s unexpected appearance on the ranch.

  “Very pleasant,” Natalie concurred, shaking a rattle in front of Shiloh’s face.

  She’d put the baby in a carrier, one that doubled as a car seat, and secured it on the chair beside her. Shiloh had been restless most of the dinner and was getting fussier by the minute. Probably a reaction to the nervous energy abounding in the room, so different from the usual staff meals where everyone joked and told stories and decompressed after a hard day of work.

  Meals were served family style at the ranch. Everyone dined at long tables holding twelve to fourteen people, and enjoyed simple, country fare. After the start of the new season, the staff, with the exception of the ranch hands and trail guides, would take their meals an hour earlier than the guests and eat either in the kitchen or outside beneath the ramada. Until then, they all ate together in the dining hall.

  “Pleasant? That’s all you have to say?” Deana threw Aaron Reyes another sidelong glance.

  “Polite,” Natalie added.

  “Right sociable,” her father said.

  “Likes kids.”

  “Likes kids?” Deana looked inquisitively at Natalie. “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t.” Natalie backpedaled. “Just a feeling.” Because he’d complimented Shiloh? Not much to go on, really. “What I mean is he doesn’t dislike kids.” That remark earned her an eye roll from her mother. Shut up, she told herself, while you can still save face.

  Natalie’s father came to her rescue. “He knows a lot about horses.”

  “Well, he should,” Deana said with a huff. “He was national bronc-riding champion for three straight years. Saddle and bareback.”

  Only half listening, Natalie put the rattle in Shiloh’s pudgy hand. The baby immediately thrust the rattle into her mouth and began gnawing on it, freeing Natalie to drink her coffee and eat her pie.

  “He’s a fine-looking man.”

  Natalie hoped her lack of response would bring about a change of topic. Her efforts were in vain.