The Cowboy's Lady

Then Dover stood up, his back to Cody, and looked around at the gathered men, his meaty hands on his hips. “Okay, so we drew straws to see who goes to talk to her. Cade, you drew short straw, so it’s your job.”

“Give me a break, guys.” Cade Clayton held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want her mad at me.”

“C’mon. Young buck like you. Those shoulders. That Clayton blond hair,” Bryce teased, giving Cade’s belly a poke. “Rock-hard abs. What’s to be mad about? Besides, she’s your third or fourth cousin or something like that.”

Cade gave him a wry look. “Second cousin. And on the other branch of the family tree.”

“What’s going on?” Cody asked, hanging his jacket on the peg inside the door. As he walked across the wooden floor, his spurs jangled in the quiet.

“Cade drew short straw. He’s gotta talk to his cousin Vivienne about her cooking,” Dover said, scratching his ample belly. “‘Cause I tell you, what’s happened the last two meals isn’t workin’ for us.”

Cody angled his chin toward the empty bowls scattered over the table. “What was for breakfast?”

“Some kind of bread pudding,” Bryce put in.

Cody groaned. What happened to the bacon and eggs he suggested?

“Why don’t you talk to her,” Ted suggested. “She’ll listen to you.” His uncle lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that made Cody clench his jaw.

“Why do I have to go? You’re as much a partner as I am,” Cody said to his uncle Ted.

Ted shrugged and then winked. “Your shoulders got way more pull than mine.”

Cody nailed his uncle with a sharp look, but Ted wasn’t fazed.

“I don’t have time for this malarkey,” Cody grumbled even as he marched to the kitchen door and shoved it open. Why couldn’t he get anyone on this place to listen to him?

Vivienne stood by the sink, her hair pulled up, looking a lot less flushed than she did yesterday. She hummed a quiet tune, looking content and pleased with herself.

Gold hoops dangled from her ears and she wore a silk scarf around her neck. Like she was all dressed up for something. Or someone. Then she turned and the smile on her face went straight to his gut.

“Good morning, Cody. Is Bonnie coming to help me?” She angled her head to one side and gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

“No.”

Vivienne blew out her breath. “I thought—”

Cody held up his hand. One problem at a time. “She’s finishing up homework she sloughed off last night. She has to get it done before the bus comes to get her.”

“I see. Did you both have your breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Bonnie doesn’t eat breakfast.”

“What?” Vivienne looked horrified. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Hearing her parrot the same words his mom had always said to him gave him a momentary feeling of nostalgia. He waved off her comment.

“Maybe, but I’m not getting into that fight with her,” he said. He had to save his ammunition for bigger battles. Like trying to find a way to spend quality time with his sister, getting his work done and keeping her away from the single cowboys on this ranch.

Once again he wished his parents had sent his sister somewhere else. He didn’t have time to take care of her properly.

“Did you have breakfast?” Vivienne asked.

“Just got here in time to hear the men grumbling. Again. About the food you made.”

Her smile dropped away into a frown and he felt like smacking himself on the head. That came out all wrong, but something about her tangled his thoughts, which plugged up his conversational filter.

“What could the men possibly be groping about now?” she said. “I made a simple breakfast, like you told me. Bread pudding, of all things.” She balled her hands into fists and dropped them onto her hips. “Those ungrateful louses. I spent a lot of time on that breakfast.”

“From the sounds of their grumbling, you might have been better off with porridge packs.”

“Porridge packs? What are you talking about?”

Cody shook his head, trying to comprehend the fact that this fancy, New York chef didn’t understand one of the staples of breakfast out on the trail. “You boil the water. You rip open the porridge packet. You put the two together in a bowl. Stir and eat.”

Vivienne made a face as if he had suggested she use mud. “You can’t be serious. I actually know which ingredients go into the food I cook. None of that butylated hydroxytoluene added to packaging material to preserve freshness.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Vivienne held up her hand. “Work joke.”

“What I am serious about is you doing what I ask. You’ve cooked two meals for my guys, and both times they’ve bombed. Even old Stimpy Stevens didn’t have that bad a track record.”

Vivienne pulled back as if he had hit her. “But … I …” She pressed her lips together and turned away.

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