Spurred On (The Quick and the Hot) (3 page)

The new foreman though…

A shiver ran through her, and she chalked it up to the cold water splattering her jeans. No, she wasn’t reacting to Hayden’s thick muscles or the memory of his hard ass in those red boxer briefs.

She twisted the handle on the outside spigot and started to wind up the hose. Mark strode forward and took the hose right out of her hands. “Let me. You go in and clean up for dinner.”

There was no use in arguing with him—they’d gone over this before. Better to allow him these helpful gestures.

With a smile, she said, “Thanks.”

Inside the house, she paused in the mudroom to toe off her boots. Then she padded through the rooms toward her bedroom. As she passed the office, her dad called her name.

After backing up, she stood in the open door and met his gaze. As usual he sat behind his desk, pen in hand, accounting books open. He was a miser and would cut costs wherever he could, though they made enough money now to never work another day and live richly.

His eyes creased when he smiled. “Heard you fixed up the new foreman today.”

Did he know about her coming after Hayden with the shovel too?

She gave a single nod—her gestures and heart too much like a cowboy’s for her own good probably. When it came to girly things, she was out of her element.

“He made the mistake of not making Tripod’s acquaintance before going into the outbuildings, and the dog took a bite out of him.”

Familiar mirth bubbled in her chest, and she narrowly kept it confined. She didn’t want to appear to be anything but a serious-minded, hard-working cowgirl in front of her daddy. If he finally saw her for what she was, he would surely give her the ranch to run.

Wouldn’t he?

She drifted into the office. The air was slightly stale with cigar smoke and damp animal. When she neared the desk, Tripod raised his head and blinked at her from his dual-colored eyes.

“Well, Meadows knows better now,” her father said.

Zoe Beth’s stomach turned over at the sound of Hayden’s last name.

“Have a seat, darlin’.”

She met her father’s gaze, searching the familiar brown eyes for some sign of displeasure.

His grin quirked up on one side. “I’m not about to give you hell, girl. I want to talk to you about something.”

She slipped into the comfortable worn chair and placed her hands on the wood and leather arms that had been oiled to a sheen over the years from countless cowboy hands. Business was always conducted in this office if not in the field. Both were Val Cole’s stomping grounds.

Her father sat back in his chair and hitched a boot over his opposite knee. With pen still in hand, he began to slide his fingers up and down the plastic case.

Damn, this is serious.

He never performed that gesture unless thinking. After years of living with him, she knew the train tracks were being laid down a mile out from where the people around him stood. His mind always barreled into the future.

Zoe Beth waited. Her jeans were still wet from the hose, and she smelled. But pushing her father meant he’d take longer to tell her what was on his mind. If she wanted that hot bath, she’d be patient.

After several silent heartbeats he said, “You know Joe Michaels is one of the best men in our area.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she prepared herself for more. God, she hoped she wasn’t about to hear her father say again that she should consider Joseph Michaels as a boyfriend. He’d been hanging around the ranch more and more.

She gripped the armrests to keep from tipping out of her chair. “If you say so.”

“He talks about you a lot, Zoe Beth.”

She firmed her lips to keep the emotion from flooding her features. If she wanted to be treated as one of the guys, she had to act like it. Instead of speaking, she remained quiet.

Her father dropped the pen to the desktop. “He’d like to find a way to get to know you better. I suggested you begin working over there a coupla days a week so you can learn how differently ranches can be run.”

She fought to keep a calm facade. Going from zero to a hundred in five seconds flat wouldn’t work well here. But dammit, he was taking over her life. “So you’ve planned my days out—my life out? With Joseph Michaels? Daddy, he’s an ass. He hides it from you, but he’s cruel and neglectful with his animals.”

Her father gained his feet. He pointed a finger at her. “That’s a serious accusation in this part of the country, girl. You care to rethink that?”

She stood too and folded her arms over her chest. “Not on your life. I’ve seen him beat his dog—”

“Enough! He’s a good man, a friend of mine even if he is quite a bit younger. He wants to know you better, and I think it’s a good idea. He’d take care of you, Zoe Beth, and I’m not going to live forever.”

She stopped. “Is that what this is about? Daddy”—her voice broke—“are you sick?”

Shock and confusion crossed his beloved face. “What? No. Hell, no. I’m as healthy as my livestock. But I’m getting older. Your ma and I married late, and it took a while for you to come around. By then I was an older father.” He lowered his head. “Is it wrong for me to hope that you’ll be provided for and have a good man behind you?”

Oh no. She knew that look—
the
look. The one she could hardly ever say no to.

But she did. “I don’t want a boyfriend.” She streaked to the door.

Her daddy held his palm up as a stop sign and stared at her for a long moment. “If you’ll only consider talking with Joe alone. Walk out through the fields with him. You’ll see he’s a good man. He’d treat you well.”

Panic knifed through her. Consider a man who was cruel to animals and twenty years her senior as a love interest?

Her father huffed out a sigh—the desolate sound that always cut her to ribbons and left her bleeding. The last thing she ever wanted in life was to feel her father’s disappointment.

Zoe Beth locked her knees, bracing herself for her father’s displeasure. “I’m not showing interest in anyone, let alone Joseph Michaels.”

Her father crossed the room to her, arms outstretched. He collected Zoe Beth to him and tucked her head under his chin in the way that always made her feel safe. “All right, darlin’. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If he’s not for you, he’s not.”

He held her at arms’ length, and she looked into his face. Fatigue was evident in every line, proving his words. He wasn’t getting any younger, and he was afraid.

She squeezed her father’s hand but stepped away from him.

This was why she needed to prove she could manage the ranch.

* * * *

When he took a seat on the long bench, Hayden schooled his features so they didn’t reflect his discomfort from the dog bite. Dinner was spread on the table—a bowl of mashed potatoes that looked like a fluffy mountain, peas ready to overflow a glass container, fried chicken, and a tower of biscuits that smelled so heavenly his stomach cramped.

Strangely the smell reminded him of Zoe Beth. Being in this kitchen with her while the buttery confections baked had given him a mental association.

Now he was getting a hard-on from the scent of biscuits.

He glanced around the table. Where was she?

What do I care? She’s too wild for her own good, and that means eventually she’ll get hurt. I’m not running that path with her.

Val took up the head of the table, freshly changed into a chambray shirt, his graying hair combed against his skull. Without his hat, he was less hard-ass and more common man. Twelve others lined the table on both sides, laughing and jeering with each other.

One guy at the end teased the cook about something until her kindly face flushed.

The men were various ages from young bucks that could barely grow a decent beard to hardened men who had been in the game since they could sit a horse. The operation here at the Cole Ranch was big business.

Hayden wondered again if he was cut out for it. He wanted to be—needed to be. His only talent had been snuffed out with the toss of a bull. He had to cut a new trail through life.

Drawing a deep breath, he straightened his spine.

If he hadn’t chosen the path of competitive bull rider, he would have been a rancher like his father and his father before him. It was in his blood, Val had admired during the interview process.

Hayden again scoured the table. A slight space had been left between the shoulders of two broad cowboys, a place setting before the empty spot. Hayden sat on Val’s right, and directly across from him another seat was open.

For Zoe Beth.

Hayden’s blood raced faster at the idea of sitting across from her, of being able to look into her eyes again, the color of sea glass washed ashore.

Hayden scuffed a hand over his face.
Get ahold of yourself. She’s not for you.

To his left, Val asked him a question about what he thought of the ranch on his first day.

“It’s a fine operation, sir. I thank you for the opportunity to become involved.”

“Did you see the areas we discussed improvements for?”

Val was interested in expanding one pasture by moving the fence line—a huge undertaking but a necessary one if they were going to fit more cattle in comfortably.

Hayden launched into a conversation about his ideas. The discussion swelled from that pasture to several areas of woodlands that could be cleared for more grazing land.

The chatter around the table changed pitch, and Hayden glanced up. A fist of excitement struck his gut as his gaze settled over one very pretty and very off-limits cowgirl.

Zoe Beth wore a denim miniskirt and slouchy brown boots. Her top was a simple white T-shirt, and Christ, her nipples were hard.

His cock jerked in his jeans. Holding his breath, he waited for her to take the seat opposite him, but she squished herself between the ranch hands.

Someone reached for a biscuit, and Mattie slapped his hand. “We’re waiting for one more guest,” she said with a nod toward the empty seat beside Val.

Irritation wove through Hayden’s chest. A daughter ought to be seated beside her father, not locked between two drooling animals. They leered at her, obviously aware of the hard gems of her nipples too.

One man dipped his head to say something quiet to her. She nudged him, laughing.

Hayden’s stomach clenched. Val cleared his throat, and Hayden started, realizing the man had been talking to him while he sat and ogled his daughter.

Pulling his head out of Zoe Beth’s business, Hayden took up the conversation once more. Seconds into it the back door opened and an older cowboy entered. He wore a dark Stetson, which he doffed and hung on a peg beside twenty-some others. He was fit, but Hayden disliked him immediately.

Especially the way the man’s gaze riveted on Zoe Beth.

“Glad you could join us, Joe. And just in time too. The crowd is getting restless for a taste of Mattie’s biscuits.”

Loud agreement rippled down the table. Joe strode toward the empty seat. On his way past Zoe Beth, he rested a hand on her shoulder. And squeezed.

Her beautiful face mottled five shades of red, and her throat worked. Hayden’s heartstrings tugged at the sight of her discomposure. Everything in him wanted to reach out and grab her, to let her bury her red face against his shirt.

To smell her hair.

Hell, what was wrong with him? She was nothing to him.

Then why do I still feel her light touch on my leg?

He flexed his calf muscle. Before he could withdraw his gaze from Zoe Beth, she looked right at him.

That flinty strike of attraction burned him up. For a tenuous moment their gazes held, stretching through several heartbeats as if joined by an invisible cord. Twisting her gaze aside, she broke the connection.

Joe’s work-worn hand was suddenly in Hayden’s face.

“Hayden Meadows. A pleasure to meet you,” Hayden said to cover the moment and shook his hand.

Bowls and platters were passed, and the clank of silverware against plates grew to a din. Hayden dug into the potatoes and gravy with a singular purpose. He hadn’t come in for lunch, too afraid to run into Zoe Beth again, and he was starving. But he was soon tugged into conversation about the weather with Val and Joe. The rainy season was coming, and there were more instances of illness and injuries among the herd.

Hayden pushed himself to come up with new ideas for the ranch, though he wanted more than anything to slip into the conversation taking place at the middle of the table.

Zoe Beth was flirting her little boots off. She slathered butter on a warm biscuit and passed it to the cowboy on her left. Then she did the same for the one on the right. The three laughed, and Zoe Beth flipped her silky hair.

It was darker on the ends.
Wet.

A thousand images launched through Hayden’s brain—of Zoe Beth against the shower wall, his fingers buried between her round thighs, those perky breasts upturned ready for his mouth. Of her spread out on the sky-blue quilt of his bunk, wrists bound with rope and his handkerchief in her mouth to keep her from screaming in pleasure.

A snippet of her speech reached him. “…next sunny day off, we’ll take a picnic…”

“Meadows, what do you think of introducing a new type of cattle to our herd?” Val asked.

He jerked his attention from Zoe Beth. “Oh what’s that?” Forking up some chicken, he tried to focus on anything but the tinkling, flirtatious laughter from the center of the table.

“I’ve been thinking about breeding some bulls. For ridin’.”

Val’s words brought Hayden out of his green-eyed haze.

Really? Bulls for competition?
It was a dream come true—the best opportunity a washed-up bull rider like Hayden could ask for.

“Sir, I think it’s a great idea. I’ve often thought that if we had a bigger choice of stock, we could have better performances and—”

“Stop!” A high-pitched giggle floated from Zoe Beth. Hayden trained his gaze on the man tickling her. What was his name? Hayden had met him, but all their names blended together in his head. It would take him a week to get them straight.

Either way Hayden didn’t like him.

Val fell silent, mouth bracketed by creases as he watched his daughter’s display. Then he shot Joe an apologetic glance. Was this a common mealtime event? And if so, how many of these men had Zoe Beth shown interest in?