So Tough To Tame

Once Eli was gone, Charlie called up the video feed for the corridor that led to her studio on the first floor. Her place was near the elevators for easy access, so the camera was only a few yards from her door.

She fast-forwarded, flying through hours of video. When the tape showed 11:05 p.m., Dawn appeared in the hallway, and Charlie slowed the tape. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Dawn knock on her door, then knock again. She was surprised to see her try the doorknob, as if Charlie would leave her place unlocked, or, more importantly, that she’d be okay with her boss opening her door uninvited.

When the door didn’t budge, Dawn stared down at the knob for a long while. She glared at it, then turned to look directly up at the camera.

The skin on Charlie’s arms drew tight as goose bumps sprang to life.

On the video, Dawn frowned and then walked away. Charlie backed up the tape and paused it.

This wasn’t the kind of video they used at the local convenience store. This was crisp and digital. She could clearly see the tightness around Dawn’s eyes. The furtive line of her mouth.

Charlie stared her down.

People were always surprised that Charlie was in security, but these days it wasn’t about big, burly guys with concealed handguns. Well, it wasn’t only about them, though they certainly had their place in the ecosystem. These days it was more about prevention than enforcement. Charlie could read people. She could anticipate. She could pick up on interference that disturbed the flow of normal traffic. On small tells that revealed intentions.

She’d lost a little confidence in her own intuition after the setup in Tahoe, but it didn’t take much skill to read Dawn’s thoughts. That glance was irritation and arrogance, not with Charlie, but with the camera. She was clearly thinking, If only that stupid camera wasn’t there, I could use my master key to get inside.

What Charlie couldn’t see on Dawn’s face was why. Why? Yes, Charlie had met Dawn’s husband for drinks one evening, but if Dawn was going to be that paranoid about Charlie being a femme fatale, why had she recruited her for the job? It made no sense. None of it did.

They’d been close in high school, despite their different interests. Charlie had filled her time with volleyball and track and tutoring, and Dawn had been student council president and head of the honor society and in charge of half the student volunteer organizations. But they’d had something in common, she and Dawn and Sandra and a few other overachievers: none of them had been popular with boys. While other girls had been out drinking beer around bonfires with horny teenage cowboys, Dawn and Charlie and their group had usually been at school. They’d shared running jokes about saving themselves for marriage. They’d assured each other that those party girls were going nowhere fast. They’d shaken their heads at the bad judgment.

But they’d also secretly yearned. Charlie had, at least. She’d tutored those boys in the library after school. Sometimes she’d even gone to their houses to sit in their rooms with them. But she’d never been in danger of being led astray. She was just Charlie. One of the guys. Another runner on the track team. Taller than most of them and flatter-chested, too. They’d hung out with her. They’d asked if they could copy her homework. They’d shoved her on the shoulder when they joked. And then they’d sidled away to flirt with the fun girls.

So she’d claimed not to want anything to do with them and their restless hands and crude mouths, but boy, had she imagined!

Luckily, when she’d gotten to college, she’d found a new role. A new group of friends. She’d assumed Dawn had, too. But all Dawn seemed to have gotten was more uptight.

Charlie shook her head and unpaused the video. Shoulders tight, she scanned the remaining hours, but nothing else happened. Tears sprang to her eyes.

Her instincts had failed her in Tahoe, but she wasn’t going to let them fail her here. Dawn was jealous, that was all. Maybe Dawn’s husband had made a stupid comment about Charlie’s ass or something. Maybe Dawn had just expected Charlie to be the same harmless tomboy she’d known in high school. Whatever the reason, it was Dawn’s issue. Charlie wasn’t going to get sucked into it. Dawn had started spying on her, commenting on Charlie’s comings and goings, implying she was a man-stealing slut, so Charlie had moved out. End of story.

She wouldn’t be paranoid and scared. She wouldn’t turn into one of those people who was carried along by life, tumbled over and knocked around every time the current got too fast. Like her mother, who could never grab on to anything, could never find a handhold.

No. Charlie would work hard. She’d let the scandal in Tahoe die down. She’d pay off her legal bills. And then she’d find a job somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just not at the Meridian Resort.

But for today, just having her apartment at the Stud Farm was enough. She felt a little stronger. A little more herself. She’d hit rock bottom, but she was on her way back up now, and she’d be damned if she’d leave the best parts of herself behind.

CHAPTER FIVE

“GODDAMN IT!” the ranch foreman yelled. “Pull!”

Walker wrapped the rope more tightly around his wrist, took it in both hands and hauled as hard as he could as the heifer struggled and fought against the mud. The slick goo must have felt like a predator’s mouth tugging her deeper in, and her eyes rolled in wild panic. Walker pulled harder, urging the other men on when they wanted to stop. The poor girl was going to freeze to death if they didn’t get her out. Granted, she was destined for the packing plant in a year or two, but there was no reason for her to go like this, cold and shaking and scared.

“Fuck this,” the hand next to him muttered.

“She’s almost there,” Walker said, getting a new grip on the rope. Actually, she seemed to be slipping deeper, but he wasn’t going to give up. “Come on. One more good haul should get her.” In the end, it took three more hauls, but they pulled her free. She stumbled a few feet, then went to her knees.

There wasn’t anything out here to clean her off with, and the ranch was a mile away, so Walker swept his gloved hand down her flank, over and over, sluicing off the thick mud. Her big body shook under his hands, but her panicked lowing had stopped. By the time he stood and went to his horse to grab a blanket, she was breathing almost normally. She struggled to her feet and took a few steps toward him.

“Well, look at that,” one of the cowboys crowed. “You really do have a way with the ladies.”

The younger one laughed. “I’ve heard they follow you around like cats in heat, but damn, I’d never heard anything about heifers.”

Walker laughed off the jokes and took the blanket over to scrub some warmth into the cow. It only took a few moments before she was alert enough to jerk away from his ministrations and trot back to the herd. Hopefully she’d stick close to the others and the collective body heat would do the rest.

“All right,” the foreman snapped. “Move ’em on the last mile, and come collect your pay.” He trotted off without a word of thanks.

They remounted and spread out to move the herd on. Once they got them going, the older cowboy rode closer. “Mr. Kingham is a real asshole, but the trail work with the guests is okay if you can get hired on at the lodge. Heard you was looking for work.”

Walker glanced at the guy. His name was Tom, but Walker didn’t know more about him than that. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He tipped his chin toward the foreman. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, see how you did. Too many years at one of these dude ranches can make for a soft cowboy.”

“You think?”

Tom shrugged. “Teaching pretty ladies how to ride?” He shot Walker an arch look, but he smiled and shook his head when Walker met it with a straight face. “Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. Just saying if you’re used to having a warm woman at hand, it might make it harder to face a cold night on the range.”

“Yeah, well. They bring their own sets of problems.”

“Don’t I know it? Anyway, the back end of the operation is pretty quiet. No guests out here. Obviously Kingham’s not ‘customer service oriented.’”

“Yeah, I worked here ten years ago. Kingham wasn’t here, but I know they only use a few dozen head of cattle in the guest areas and keeps the rest of the work behind the scenes.”

“Well, you don’t seem soft. I’ll put in a good word.”

“Thanks.” Walker was thankful, but not as thrilled as he should’ve been at the prospect of a permanent job. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe he had gotten soft. He looked toward the distant buildings of the guest ranch almost hidden in the long evening shadows cast by the hills. But they weren’t headed there. The working side of the ranch had its own outbuildings and trailers. The guest ranch was only an attractive outbranch of an operation that ran two thousand head of cattle every year.

It’d be good work, but Walker’s heart fell. He’d gotten used to being around people. Ten or fifteen cowhands, the whole staff of the lodge, the clients: moms and dads and lots of kids. And yes, the occasionally group of raucous ladies looking for a mountain adventure.

Working at a dude ranch was a hell of a lot of fun.

This assignment, on the other hand... Well, shit. At least he could go back to his own place every night. That, and the steady income was probably the best he could say about it.

Freezing rain hit his hat in a slow patter before it picked up to a steady drizzle. The rain left him feeling even more defeated. Apparently he could’ve just left the damn heifer wet and muddy, because she was about to get that way again.

Turning his collar up, he concentrated on edging in a few cattle who were trying to break off from the herd. Soon enough, he was tracking mud and water into his truck and leaving for home, his pay for the day’s work stuffed into his pocket. He’d earn another few bucks tomorrow. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was something. He’d rather not dip into his savings any more than he had to.

Body aching from the cold, Walker cranked up the heat in the truck, then cranked up his favorite George Strait album, as well. No point dwelling on his problems. If he’d wanted stability, he’d chosen the wrong career. At least it came with damn good music.

He was just settling into a good fantasy about the scalding shower he was about to take when his cell phone rang, and his fantasy morphed to something else.

Maybe what he needed was a shower and a beer and a woman in his bed. He pulled the phone from his pocket, already wondering which old friend it could be. Granted, in the past few years, most of his lovers had been brief hookups with ranch visitors, but there were always a few—

His fantasy of a quiet night of good sex died when he saw the display.

Nicole.

Apparently she’d let go of her anger. But Walker hadn’t let go of his, if that’s what it was. Anger at her, maybe, or just at himself. He’d been stupid enough to mess around with another man’s wife. That didn’t mean he had to make it worse.

He declined the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. A shower and a beer and his hand, then. Good enough. And a hell of a lot smarter than a bad-news woman.

He was so tired by the time he pulled up to the apartment, his hand would’ve been the only good choice, regardless. He’d never been the kind of guy to get off and go straight to sleep. Taking care of a woman the right way was hard work, and he didn’t have it in him tonight.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Normally, he’d never have gotten into his truck covered in mud, but there’d been no bunkhouse washroom to clean up in. And he couldn’t face cleaning off his floor mats tonight. Or the seat. And tomorrow would likely be just as muddy. He’d take care of it when the job was done.

A knock on the window startled him out of his stupor. He rolled down the window and was surprised to see Charlie’s face a few inches from his.

“Hey, cowboy!” She held both hands over her head as if to shield herself from the few raindrops still falling.

A smile stole immediately over his mouth. “Hey, Charlie. What are you doing out?”

“Heading to the saloon. Are you coming over?”

His gaze slipped to the porch of the saloon as he reached for the door. Charlie hopped back as he eased the door open and got out. He stretched his back. Yet again, he found himself turning down a good time. “I’m sorry. I’m beat. I need a shower as soon as possible. And then bed.” He cleared his throat, knowing what he meant by bed and telling himself she couldn’t have any idea.

Her eyes swept down his body. “You are kind of a mess. You look like...”

“I’ve been wrestling cattle in the mud?”

“Something like that.” Her eyes lingered on the mud smeared across his shirt. “So shower and then come play.”

Come play. Jesus, did she say that kind of thing on purpose? “I wish I could.”

“Aw. Are you really too tired?” Her little smirk was a challenge. He wanted to accept it.

He found himself leaning a little closer before remembering that he smelled like horse and mud and sweat. “I’d love to. But after I take a shower, I won’t be able to talk myself into going back out in the cold.”

“Well, I can’t fault that, I guess. But I won’t lie. After the day I had, I’d be willing to dare a lot of discomfort for a drink.”

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

Charlie opened her mouth; then her eyes swept down his body again and she shook her head. “All right. I wasn’t exactly wrestling cattle in the mud. I suppose I’ll recover from the office politics.”

“Hell, Charlie. Any redneck can wrestle a cow. Put me in a room with computers and the kind of work you do, and I’d look like a trapped bear.”

A wide smile spread slowly over her face. “I admit, I can’t imagine you dressed in creased pants and sitting at a computer.”

“Aw, shit, darlin’. Nobody can. That’s why I’ll never be anything but a dirty cowboy.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” she purred. “Hard work is a beautiful thing, Walker Pearce. It really is.”

“Jesus, Charlie,” he said, huffing out a shocked laugh.

“Go on and take your shower. Get cleaned up and maybe I’ll take pity on you and bring you a beer later.”

“Ha. I’ll be sure not to still be in a towel, then.”

“Don’t get all dressed up on my account.” With that, she sauntered off toward the saloon, her ass a sweet, swinging demand for attention.

Suddenly, Walker wasn’t half so tired. In fact, he felt like a man who’d just gotten home from a two-week vacation. Or so he assumed. He’d never had more than a few days off at a time, but one thing he’d learned was how to jam a hell of a lot of good time into a quick moment. Maybe he could put that skill to use tonight.

He forgot all about his muddy truck and headed inside.

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