Carol Finch - Lonesome Ryder

Quint Ryder, the legendary ladies’ man of the family, cast one last gawking glance at the goddess’s shapely derriere then stepped forward to make the introductions. “Laura Seymour, this is our cousin, Wade Ryder.” He grinned outrageously for Wade’s benefit. “Vance and I found the perfect temporary cook and housekeeper while you’re recuperating. She’s the answer to your prayers.”

Quint’s grin was as wide as the Oklahoma panhandle and Wade itched to punch that expression off his cousin’s face. This woman wasn’t the answer to Wade’s prayers; she was his worst nightmare. He preferred a miraculous recovery, not a tempting female underfoot.

When Wade reluctantly agreed to temp help he’d sort of envisioned the modern version of Alice from The Brady Bunch. Instead he got Miss June from Playboy magazine. Hell! He just couldn’t catch a break.

Wade ground his teeth—which had practically been jarred out of his head during the ranching accident that left him virtually helpless. It wasn’t a feeling he was comfortable with. Having her in his home, emphasized those feelings of frustrated uselessness and helplessness—in spades. Wade prided himself in being capable, independent and self-reliant. Now, everything he was, and strove to be, had a discolored bruise on it and he had to rely on a crutch to ensure his balance.

Damn that Black Angus bull that had run right over the top of him then tried to make mincemeat of him. That beast was hamburger!

The bombshell with the peaches-and-cream complexion—and not one bruise or flaw to mar her bewitching face—stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your accident. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ryder.”

“Is it? What’s so nice about it?” Wade stared at her well-manicured hand, as if she were trying to foist off a three-day-old dead fish. He wasn’t going to permit physical contact because he had no intention of keeping her. He didn’t want to touch her or see her again—ever.

Her hand just sort of hung there in midair before she realized there wouldn’t be any shaking going on. Wade acquainted her with his fiercest glare and stared her down until her smile faltered and she backed away self-consciously. His conscience tried to beat him black and blue because of his rude behavior, but what was one more bruise on his battered body, he asked himself.

Vance Ryder, the playful practical joker of the family, stepped front and center to smooth over the awkward situation, but Wade had no intention of making it easy on his cousin.

“As you can tell, Laura, our cuz isn’t in a happy place right now. His severe pain is making him surly. Don’t pay Wade any mind. He’ll be more sociable when he’s feeling better.”

“No, I won’t,” Wade contradicted grouchily. “This is as good as I ever get.” For effect, he flashed Ms. Forbidden Temptation another lethal glare. Her smile evaporated and she stared warily at him. A little timid, was she? Good. He could scare her off with very little effort. He had her at a disadvantage because she was in his home with a room full of strangers and she was trying her best to be polite.

Vance’s fake laugh filled the silence then he said, “Wade’s just kidding around.” His narrowed, warning gaze locked on Wade. “Aren’t you, cuz?”

“Yeah,” Wade growled, teeth bared. “This is how I look and act when I’m kidding around. You don’t wanna be around here when I’m in a really bad mood. Now, why don’t you take a hike, lady, so I can have a private chat with my cousins.”

Laura’s head snapped up and her eyes flashed. She opened her mouth then must have thought better of lighting into him because she clamped her lips together and held her tongue. Obviously offended, she strode quickly out the door.

Wade instantly understood why Vance and Quint had trailed behind Laura. Her designer jeans clung to the curve of her tush as if they’d been tailor-made to fit her hourglass physique. The mesmerizing sway of those denim-clad hips drew Wade’s gaze and held it fast. He had to give himself a mental slap before he could drag his attention to his cousins.

“Did we do good or what?” Quint murmured as his all-consuming gaze followed Laura until she disappeared from sight. He sighed dramatically. “That’s one fine-looking, USDA prime-choice female, Wade. Almost makes me wish I’d been the one run over by a bull so Laura could take care of me.”

“I want her out of here, pronto,” Wade snapped. “You know I’ve sworn off women and I don’t her want underfoot.”

“Aw, c’mon, cuz,” Vance cajoled. “Laura is perfect for this temporary position. She’s going to take a new job teaching math and computer science at the high school in Hoot’s Roost this fall, so she has the summer free for this short-term employment. As a bonus she can update your computer programs for your livestock and expense accounts. Plus, she hasn’t found a place to live, so she can give you round-the-clock attention. She’ll be doing you a service and you’ll be helping her out by providing room and board.”

“What!” Wade howled in disbelief. “You expect me to have that woman at my ranch 24/7? No freakin’ way!”

“Simmer down,” Quint spoke up. “You have enough injuries without sending your blood pressure into the red zone.”

“I should’ve had my head examined when I agreed to send a notorious ladies’ man and a world-class practical joker to locate a temporary housekeeper. I didn’t much like the idea to begin with and I like it even less now. That woman is not staying at my ranch. Discussion over!”

Quint’s perpetual smile turned upside down as he loomed over Wade. “She’s staying here,” he said in no uncertain terms. “Your accident happened at my ranch and it was Vance’s cantankerous bull that stomped all over you, so we feel responsible. Furthermore, you stepped in front of us like a shield when that cursed bull came after us when we separated him from his harem of cows. You received extra points for heroism for that maneuver and you took the brunt of abuse that bull dealt out.”

“Therefore,” Vance put in as he came to loom beside Quint, “we are paying Laura’s salary because that’s only fair. We made a pact years back to trade off our work and share our ranch chores so we could cut down on the expenses of hiring extra help during cattle drives, branding, inoculation, hauling livestock to market and planting crops. That was the deal. When one of us needs help the other two assist. We share our tractors, machinery, corrals and breeding stock.”

Yeah, they did, Wade silently agreed. The arrangement had worked splendidly and saved time and expenses—until he’d ended up in the emergency room at Hoot’s Roost Hospital and was informed by the doctor on duty that he’d be taking a forced vacation for the next six to eight weeks.

“You can growl, snarl and fuss at us all you want,” Quint invited, “but Laura Seymour isn’t leaving until we say so. You can’t fire her because we hired her. I suppose you could put her up in your hired man’s bunkhouse, but that’d make you look more ungrateful and unappreciative than you do now.”

If Quint thought the remark would jump-start Wade’s conscience he could forget it. Wade’s conscience had disowned him about fifteen minutes earlier. “Fine, put my new housekeeper’s luggage in Duff’s cabin. She can cook in his cracker-box kitchen and tote my meals up to the house.”

Vance rolled his eyes in disgust. “C’mon, Wade. Duff doesn’t even have a dishwasher. The appliance he refers to as a stove only has one functioning burner and the temperature regulator on the oven doesn’t work.”

“Plus,” Quint added, “Duff’s washing machine is almost an antique. Hell, it doesn’t agitate as easily as you do. You can’t make Laura haul laundry and meals from the bunkhouse to here. That’d be cruel and unusual punishment.”