Running Blind (10 page)

Z
EKE OPENED
T
HE
Pie Hole door and went in; it was early yet for the lunch crowd, but a couple of tables were occupied. Kat was wiping down the counter. A fresh pot of coffee was working, gurgling and competing with the scent of recently baked pies. He was dog tired, worried, but the comforting smells soothed him.

Kat gave him a sympathetic look. “I heard about Spencer. How’s he doing?”

Zeke slid onto a stool at the counter. She put a coffee cup before him and expertly filled it almost to the brim. Carefully Zeke lifted the cup, took that first sip, sighed at both the taste and the situation. “He’ll be fine. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You look frazzled.”

He
was
frazzled. It had been a week since Spencer had had his run-in with Santos, and Zeke was at the end of his rope. The moderate tear of the rotator cuff had required day surgery, which had meant a trip to Cheyenne. Spencer’s physical therapy started next week, but thank goodness a physical therapist visited the clinic in Battle Ridge once a week so weekly trips to Cheyenne would not be necessary. But someone would have to drive Spencer to town for his session, which would mean on those afternoons Zeke would be two men short instead of one. He’d been trying to handle the cooking himself, what little he could do in the time he had to do it in, which wasn’t much. The results had been stomach-turning. “It’s been a long week.” And that was the understatement of the year. Of course, the year wasn’t over yet. There was still a lot of shit that could happen. “Spencer’s going to be in a sling for at least six weeks.”

“Have you found a cook yet?” Kat asked, and if not for the almost imperceptible lilt in her voice he’d think it was a perfectly innocent question.

He scowled at her. “You know damn well I haven’t. A couple of the men tried, but, hell, they aren’t cooks. I even brought in Kenneth’s wife. Once.” Then she’d told him flat out she had too much to do at her own home to take on his mess, too. She’d left the bunkhouse with a promise that she wouldn’t be back. Micah’s wife had turned him down flat. “I’ve been doing it myself, mostly.”

Kat gave him a cheerful smile. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got everything well in hand,” she said. “Do you want lunch or just pie? I have apple today.”

Well in hand, my ass
. Zeke sipped at the coffee, ignoring the smugness she wasn’t even trying to disguise. The coffee was great; it was hot and strong, just the way he liked it. “Both,” he said, relieved at the thought of a hot, well-prepared meal, but too damn irritated to work up a smile.

Kat started to turn away, to go into the kitchen where apparently Carly was preparing today’s lunch special. Zeke sighed, faced what he had to do, and bit the bullet. He stopped her with a word. “But …”

She spun back around, and the expression on her face was almost evil, it was so smug. “Yes?” She tilted her head, waiting.

She knew, damn it. She
knew
why he was here and she was going to make him beg. The bad thing was, he
would
beg, if that’s what it took. That’s what he’d been reduced to, but he couldn’t keep on the way he was going. All the hands would quit, and he couldn’t blame them. Hell, he might even quit himself. “The new girl—Carly. If she’s interested, I could use her at the ranch,” he said grudgingly, and added, “Temporarily, of course.”

One of the customers stood and headed for the cash register. Kat held up a finger to silently tell Zeke to wait while she rang up the ticket. She even engaged in a little light conversation, almost as if she were purposely making Zeke wait. “Almost?” There was no “almost” to it. She downright enjoyed torturing him.

But within a few minutes she was back. She leaned against the counter, smug smile still in place. “You were saying?”

“Damn it, Kat,” he growled under his breath. “I’m desperate. I’ve got to get someone to fill in until Spencer is able to take on the cooking duties again, even if it is a
blonde
who …”

“Who what?” Kat prodded when he stopped himself before he said too much.

He needed to have his head examined. No, he
needed
someone like Libby, or a man who could cook. What he didn’t need was a sassy blonde living in the same house, one who made him hard and pissed him off at the same time. Kat thought
she
was torturing him? She was nothing compared to what having Cautious Carly in his house would be like, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “What do you know about her? I’ll run her references when I get a chance, but until then—”

Kat’s smile vanished. She gave him a long, level stare. “We have to talk about that.”

Oh, fuck. He’d known
something
was up with Miss Cautious, and Kat had just confirmed it.

She disappeared into the kitchen, and was soon back with a plate of some chicken and gravy and rice dish that had his mouth watering on sight.

“Eat first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”

It didn’t bode well that she was trying to make sure he was in a good mood before they continued the conversation.

She left him to eat in peace while she checked on her other customers, refilled cups and glasses. Then she waited until they left before she came back, which told him she wanted privacy for this conversation.

What the hell was he getting himself into?

What choice did he have?

C
ARLIN KNEW
Z
EKE
Decker was in the restaurant. She’d heard his voice, distant but distinct, as soon as he’d come in. His tone was low, but deep and kind of raspy, probably from barking orders all day long. Or maybe it was like the voice of doom. Yeah, that was a great comparison. She was glad today she was the one cooking the daily special—Kat’s recipe, but an easy one for her to get in some practice—instead of working the counter. The last thing she wanted to do was wait on that ass who’d callously called her a “stray,” and wouldn’t consider hiring her even though, according to Kat, he desperately needed someone out at his ranch. Not that she
wanted
to work for him, but it was the principle of the thing.

Then Kat stuck her head into the kitchen. “Hey, turn the heat off under everything and come on out here for a minute, okay?” Carlin’s heart jumped, which was a stupid thing for it to do, but evidently cardiac muscles just had impulses, not brains.

She took a deep breath and turned everything off, then washed her hands and thoroughly dried them—twice—before she left the kitchen.

The first thing she saw was that Zeke was the only customer there. It was a little early for the regular lunch customers, and the last of the breakfast crowd had left. Zeke had cleaned his plate and had a half-eaten piece of apple pie sitting in front of him.

He looked at her as if he was very unhappy with what he saw. He did everything but growl. Yeah, well, let him try to look nice wearing a gravy-stained apron and a hairnet; she gave him back as good as she got, all but snarling at him.

Kat glared at him, and rapped her knuckles on the counter to emphasize her point. “Before I start, you have
to promise me that everything we say to you will remain confidential.”

His scowl got even darker, and he groaned as he rubbed his face. “Shit. This can’t be good.”

“Promise,” Kat insisted. “Or this won’t go an inch further and you can go look somewhere else for a cook.”

What?
Carlin shook her head in protest. She didn’t want to go cook for Grumpy and his not-so-merry band of cowboys. This was
so
not a good idea. She glared at him. And exactly what was Kat going to tell him? Surely not about—

He glared back, but said, “Fine. I promise.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but Kat seemed to be satisfied.

She got straight to the point. “Carlin has some trouble of the stalker variety. She needs to stay completely off the grid for a while.”

“Kat!” Appalled, Carlin stared at her. So much for keeping her name a secret. Maybe he hadn’t picked up on it, because Carly and Carlin sounded so much alike, but she glanced at him to find him staring at her with an intensity that told her he’d noticed, all right.

Kat raised her hand to forestall any more protests. “Trust me,” she said. “He can help.”

“Yeah? How?”

“His situation has gotten worse, and now you’re in the driver’s seat because he needs you more than you need him,” Kat said, gloating even though Zeke was sitting right there listening to everything she said. She smiled. He made a sound in his throat that might be a growl.

Zeke was already shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. The last thing I need is to take on another problem—”

Kat snorted. “Yeah, because you’re doing so well on your own. Carlin can cook and clean, and the ranch would be the perfect place for her to lay low for a few months.” Her hands went out and up. “Win-win.”

“I just need someone for a few weeks, until Spencer’s
out of his sling. And I sure as hell don’t need anyone who has to
lay low
.”

“And why would I be
laying low
at the ranch anyway?” Carlin asked. “Why couldn’t I stay here and drive out to the ranch every day? Assuming I wanted to work for him anyway, which I don’t, me being a stray and all. We strays don’t like to work hard.” She curled her lip at him to let him know exactly how much she appreciated his choice of words, which was zero, zip, nada.

But Kat shook her head. “It’s a long drive, at least an hour, that you don’t want to be making twice a day, especially at night. You’d have to get up at three-something in the morning to get to the ranch in time to have breakfast ready, and wouldn’t get home until ten, eleven at night, sometimes. It just wouldn’t work, not even when the weather’s good. The days are getting short now, and once winter rolls around the roads can get pretty icy. This is definitely a live-in job.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And besides, I stay upstairs in the winter when the roads are bad.”

Yeah, she’d mentioned that before, but Carlin had settled into the attic room and gotten so used to it she’d forgotten. “Oh.” So it was all or nothing. She had to choose Grumpy, or she had to hit the road.

“From what I hear, Spencer wasn’t doing such a great job before his accident, anyway,” Kat continued, turning her attention back to Zeke, determined to force this situation in the direction she wanted.

“Maybe he wasn’t, but no one has gone hungry.” An unspoken “yet” hung in the air. Then he admitted defeat, his scowl deepening. “Damn it, if I had any other choice, I wouldn’t even consider—”

Carlin lifted a hand to cut him off. She’d heard enough. Maybe—probably—she should have her head examined, but instead of deterring her his reluctance had the opposite effect. She
wanted
to work for him, but on her
terms, not his. She wanted to make him eat his words—which, honestly, might taste better than her cooking. She was learning, but
learning
was the operative word. And Kat was right. This was a near-perfect, short-term solution. “It sounds to me like you could use some help. I’m willing to take on the job, but only if you agree to some things. I don’t need to be fired in the middle of the winter in Wyoming,” she said, taking control of the situation and warming to it, because his gaze was getting more narrow and hostile by the moment. She was doing good. “I either move on within the next couple of weeks, or I stay until spring.”

Zeke studied her for a moment with those piercing green eyes that held no sympathy. “If I don’t hire you, where are you going?”

“That’s none of your business. And even if it was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Kat stepped back and crossed her arms, apparently satisfied to set this conversation into motion and then let the two involved parties fight it out.

The idea of a place to stay for the winter, food and lodging, a ranch that was literally in the middle of nowhere … it was the perfect solution, except for one irate, stubborn ranch owner. She was so tired of running, she’d enjoyed her weeks here in Battle Ridge, and no way was she going to let him ruin this for her. He needed her more than she needed him. Still, she might as well throw him a bone.

“I’ll work hard, and I’ll stay out of your way,” she told him briskly. “All I ask is that you pay me in cash, keep the name ‘Carlin’ to yourself, and stay out of
my
way. And keep me on until spring. In the spring I’ll move on.” By then she’d have a good bit of cash in her pocket, and—if she was lucky—a plan of some sort that would free her from this prison Brad had created for her.

Zeke still looked unconvinced and suspicious. “How
do I know this stalker story isn’t a bunch of bull and you’re wanted by the police? For all I know you’re a con artist, or wanted for murdering your last employer.”

“Hey!” Kat yelped, outraged on Carlin’s behalf. “
I’m
her last employer.”

Carlin thought that maybe she should be outraged herself, but she wasn’t. She knew how this had to look to Zeke, but she couldn’t tell him the details. She couldn’t plead her case. And she would
not
beg. Zeke Decker would take her for the winter, or he wouldn’t.

“All I have to offer is my word, I suppose. I’m guilty of being naive. Nothing more.”