Carol Finch - Lonesome Ryder

Wade sighed audibly. Okay. So he was overreacting—a little. Maybe. But he still didn’t want that woman underfoot. Hell, he could still smell the lingering scent of her perfume. If he dared to shut his eyes he predicted he’d see Laura’s alluring vision standing in the sunlight that streamed through the east window, making her blond hair glitter like spun gold. She looked too dainty and refined to fit into life on a working ranch. She also appeared too petite to haul around heavy loads of laundry and move furniture to dust and vacuum. No, she looked like the kind of woman who needed—expected—to be waited on hand and foot by a man.

“Now, you be nice to Laura,” Quint ordered, wagging his index finger in Wade’s face. “Vance and I are doing you a favor by giving you time to recuperate. We’ve got cattle—yours as well as ours—to brand and inoculate. We don’t have time to keep house, feed you and do your laundry. I don’t have to tell you that this is one of our busiest times of the year.”

No, he didn’t, Wade thought sourly. He was going to be sitting here, feeling as if he’d let his cousins down while they busted their fannies working cattle, swathing and baling hay to provide winter forage. Wade was used to working hard, right alongside his cousins. Inactivity was going to drive him nuts. Having Laura Seymour— and he preferred to See Less of her—would drive him straight down the road to Nutsville.

“We’re not budging on this,” Vance said. His customary good-natured smile was suddenly nonexistent and he stared somberly at Wade. “Laura is here to stay so you better get used to the idea. We’ll be around to check on you, same as you’d do if one of us was laid up, because family’s family and we stick together through thin and thick.”

“Damn straight,” Quint chimed in. “We’re doing this for your own good.” True to form, Quint couldn’t remain serious overly long and his famous lady-killer grin returned full force. “Besides, cuz, that new high school teacher is hot and there hasn’t been a woman in your house, aside from your mother and our mothers, for six years.”

“Exactly right and I’d planned to keep it that way until you two bozos decided to have a little fun at my expense,” Wade grumbled bitterly. “Just remember that payback’s a bitch and I’ll definitely be repaying you for this stunt.”

His cousins shrugged, undaunted, and Quint said, “Bring it on, cuz. Just don’t forget that when we rodeoed together we were every bit as tough as you, so you better bring along your lunch, ’cause it’ll take you all day to pound us both flat.”

Wade was aware that pounding his cousins into the ground would require considerable time and effort. When he and his cousins followed the rodeo’s suicide circuit nobody messed with the Ryder cousins who’d been all for one and one for all—still were. Same went for Cousin Gage who’d traveled the circuit with them. When one of them got banged up or broke a bone while riding broncs or bulldogging the other three covered as best they could. They pooled their winnings, shared expenses and helped each other through hard times.

Right now, Wade should be feeling grateful for the loyalty and support, but the prospect of having a woman in his home after all these years was setting as well as an indigestible meal on a queasy stomach.

A thought suddenly occurred to Wade that made him feel a smidgen better. Maybe he couldn’t fire the goddess who’d been hired to keep house while he recuperated, but he could antagonize her until she quit. It wouldn’t take much, he predicted confidently. He’d leveled one mutinous glare on her earlier and she’d backed off.

Like most women, she’d be outta here when the going got tough—and he’d make sure it did. If Little Miss Schoolmarm thought she’d taken a cushy job and latched onto a prosperous rancher as an added bonus then she better think again. He already had one ex-wife’s memory to remind him that women weren’t worth the trouble. He’d also had enough rodeo groupies hovering around him to know females were only interested in what a cowboy had in his wallet—and his blue jeans.

Yes indeedy, Laura Seymour would be as good as gone after Wade made things difficult for her. He’d give her two days. Three days tops. She’d pack her bags and hightail it into Hoot’s Roost to rent an apartment.

“Okay, fine,” Wade agreed begrudgingly. “She can stay…for a while.”

“Great!” Vance and Quint chorused.

Quint spun on his boot heels and headed for the front door. “I’ll bring in Laura’s luggage.”

“And I’ll help,” Vance insisted then shot Wade a mischievous grin. “We’ll put her stuff in the bedroom next door to yours so you can call for help…if you need some in the middle of the night.”

Need some in the middle of the night? Wade clenched his one good hand into a fist as his cousins swaggered off, cackling like a couple of hens. “Ornery cusses,” he muttered at his cousins’ departing backs. He was in the middle of a full-blown crisis and they were busting a gut laughing—at his expense. They didn’t have a clue how he’d felt when Bobbie Lynn betrayed him, rejected him, deceived him and ran off with her new lover. If that wasn’t enough to sour a man on women then Wade didn’t know what was.

These days, Wade rebelled and withdrew the instant he felt a serious attraction to a woman. And he’d damn sure felt the hum and sizzle of physical awareness the instant Laura Seymour entered the room and stood there in the shaft of sunlight that spotlighted every appealing feature of her face and emphasized the voluptuous curves on her body.

Ms. Temptation had definitely arrived on the scene and Wade wanted her gone—ASAP. He’d built a six-strand barbed wire fence around his heart after Bobbie Lynn hurt and mortified him. Wade wasn’t going through that again—ever. He mistrusted the female gender, lost all respect for women and he wanted nothing to do with them, aside from the occasional gratification of sexual needs. And since he was in no condition to satisfy basic lust he didn’t want to share his space with Laura Seymour, goddess extraordinaire.

He’d manage to take care of himself—somehow. He didn’t want Laura laundering, handling his underwear and attacking his pet dust bunnies that hid under his furniture. What he wanted was to get her out of his house—pronto.

LAURA SEYMOUR DRAPED her arms over the top rail of the pipe-and-cable corral and battled her irritation with Wade Ryder while she stared at the cattle grazing on the rolling Oklahoma hills. This ranch was so peaceful and serene that she momentarily forgot about her less than pleasant introduction to Wade. If not for that rude, unsociable cowboy-in-a-cast, this temp job would’ve been absolutely perfect for her.

She muttered under her breath, remembering the menacing expression on Wade’s handsome face the moment she walked through his front door. The look he directed at her implied that he’d like to book her on a one-way express flight to a place where the hottest of climates prevailed.

She tried to tell herself that the hostility and resentment radiating from Wade Ryder wasn’t a personal affront. His pain and frustration, caused by incapacity and injury, must’ve given rise to his black mood, she diagnosed. She’d never caused such an adverse reaction to anyone—that she could recall, leastwise.

When he’d dismissed her so rudely she’d been tempted to lash out at him, but she’d been trying to make a good first impression. Apparently she hadn’t. Wade had looked and behaved as if he disliked her on sight. Ironically he’d had the opposite effect on her. In addition, she’d been distracted by the astonishing family resemblance between the three men who looked more like brothers than first cousins.