Teresa Southwick - The Rancher Who Took Her In

“Probably I should have. My sister warned me, told me he hit on her, but I was stubborn and didn’t believe. Then I caught him kissing one of my bridesmaids at the church. It seemed like an excellent time to let him know the marriage probably wasn’t going to work out.” She clenched her teeth and a muscle jerked in her delicate jaw. “I hate it when my sister is right.”

“Jerk,” Michelle said, the single word dripping with disgust.

Cabot had to agree.

“I gave him back the ring with a fervent wish that he’d choke on it, but dealing with the rest just then was—” The bride sighed and the movement did amazing things to a chest that suddenly didn’t seem so lacking. “I grabbed the truck keys and left. Drove all night and this looked like as good a place as any to stop.”

“It is a good place, honey.” Michelle patted her hand and gave him a glance that begged him to take over.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Katrina Scott. Kate.” She glanced between him and Michelle. “Why do you keep looking at this guy?”

“I keep looking at this man because he’s Cabot Dixon, the rancher who put the Help Wanted poster in my window. Take over anytime.” Michelle settled a hand on her hip and met his gaze. “In my humble opinion, Kate is just your type.” To the bride she added, “He’s a sucker for hard-luck cases.”

“I know you mean that in the nicest possible way,” he said to Michelle.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” She smiled at the bride and said, “My work here is done. By the way, I’m Michelle Crawford. It’s nice to meet you, Kate. Welcome to Blackwater Lake, Montana.”

“Thanks.” After the other woman left, Kate turned to him. “You could have said something about being the rancher in question before I spilled my guts.”

“You were on a roll,” he said.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not a hard-luck case. And I don’t suppose there’s a chance that you could overlook or forget everything I just said?”

“Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so.” She sighed.

“So Katrina. Like the hurricane.”

“I came first and I’m pretty sure my parents named me after a Viking queen or at the very least a Swedish princess.”

He laughed. She was quick-witted. He liked that. But Michelle was probably right about her being overqualified. He would guess her to be in her late twenties and likely on a career path that had been interrupted by running out on her wedding. Although by the looks of the ancient truck out front, she didn’t have much money.

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks. I plan to burn it.” She smoothed a hand over the curve of her hip.

The gesture drew his attention and suddenly his mouth went dry. This was a pretty strong reaction and he didn’t much trust the feeling, but there was no reason to read anything complicated into it. He was a guy and she was a pretty woman. That was all. But she was looking to work for him and he was looking for a reason to turn her down.

“You need a job.”

“It would help me out.”

She had pride. He understood and respected that.

Cabot pushed his empty plate and coffee cup away. “Like Michelle said, it’s really a nowhere job.”

“Just where I want to be.”

“The kids’ activities include sports—basketball, baseball, soccer.”

“I’m athletic.” He noted conviction in her voice, not so much in her expression.

He couldn’t tell about athletic, but she looked as if she was in great shape. “I’m offering minimum wage, and that’s not much more than gas money for a college kid who’s willing to work.”

“I’m obviously not a college student but definitely not afraid of hard work. And money buys gas whether you’re in school or not,” she said. “I’m sensing hesitation on your part and just want to say that you’re not seeing me at my best right now.”

He had to disagree with her on that. What he saw was pretty darn nice, although she did look tired. She had dark circles under her eyes. Green eyes, he noted. Beautiful, big green eyes.

“When was the wedding supposed to be?” he asked.

“Yesterday.”

The skirt of her dress had deep creases, as if she’d been sitting for a long time. Behind the wheel of a crappy old truck.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“I didn’t.”

He’d guess she was running on fumes. “Do you have a place to stay here in Blackwater Lake?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe you could recommend something.”

Glancing out the window, he assessed her ride. The paint was old and chipped, and rust showed through in some places. It had seen better days. He figured she probably couldn’t afford to pay for a room.

“Blackwater Lake Lodge is the only place in town, but it’s expensive.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be all right.”

Again, that was probably pride talking. Sleeping in the truck wasn’t a good idea, but she likely had no other choice. She was here without a lot of options. And somehow he felt she was now his problem, which he didn’t like even a little bit. Bottom line was the camp needed an extra pair of hands and the duties weren’t rocket science. He couldn’t afford to be too choosy.

He stood up. “The job comes with room and board. Meals included.”

She blinked those big green eyes at him. “Are you hiring me?”

“Subject to approval by Caroline Daly. She manages the camp for me and also does the cooking.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

He didn’t, either. If anyone had told him he’d be hiring a runaway bride that day, crazy would have been the first word that came to mind.

The thought made him irritable. “Do you want the job or not?”

“I want it.”

He looked at the dress then met her gaze. “Do you have anything else to wear?”

“No.”

“You’ll need stuff. I can give you an advance—”

“That’s okay. I can handle it.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t going to argue. “Michelle can tell you where the discount store is and give you directions to the ranch. Like she said, it’s about ten miles outside of town. When you’ve got what you need, meet me there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dixon.”

“It’s Cabot.” He looked at his watch and shook his head. If he didn’t leave now he’d be late picking Tyler up from school. “I have to go.”

“Okay.” She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Cabot. I promise you won’t regret this decision.”

Time would tell. He shook her hand and the electricity that shot up his arm made him regret not letting Michelle handle the interview solo. But the diner owner was pretty close to dead on about one thing. He was a sucker for hard-luck cases. At least he wasn’t a romantic sucker anymore.

When a wife walked out on her husband and infant son, it tended to crush the romance out of a man.

* * *

A few hours later, as Kate Scott was driving to the ranch, she figured a rush of adrenaline was the only explanation for the fact that she hadn’t passed out and run off the road into a ditch. She’d never been this tired in her life. As an athlete she was trained to eat well, get enough sleep and take care of her body. In the past twenty-four hours she’d done none of the above. Candy bars and coffee were nothing more than survival snacks. That was what happened when you drove from Southern California to Montana in nineteen hours.

But the adrenaline rush in the diner had been unexpected. It had a lot to do with Cabot Dixon, she thought as she drove Angelica, her brother’s ancient truck, through his gates and beneath a sign that announced Dixon Ranch and Summer Camp.

Serenity was the first thing she noticed. It was all about rolling green meadows crisscrossed by a white picket fence. Majestic mountains stood like sentinels in the distance. As the truck continued slowly up the long drive, she passed a huge house. It looked a lot like a really big wooden cabin with dormers and a double-door front entry. The kind of place Architectural Digest would have on the cover for an article about mountain homes for the wealthy.