Page 34 of Wrangle Me, Cowboys

Waylon was leaned up under the hood of his car, like usual.

“Did you fire Mr. Grimes?” I asked.

“What kind of question is that?” he asked, standing and fixing me with those black, unreadable eyes.

“Well, I thought you did,” I said. “I just wondered what was going to happen to Mrs. Grimes.”

“I got no beef with her,” Waylon said, leaning back down with his wrench. “Unless you do.”

“No,” I said lightly.

“You think we’d let that bastard stay here after what he said to you?” Waylon growled.

“No, I was just wondering about her,” I said. “You think she’ll want to stay on? I mean, you did just beat up her husband. At least, I assume that’s what you did. Not that I know. I wasn’t following you and spying or anything. You can ask Holden. I was with him the whole time. I just figured since he’s not working here, he wouldn’t be living here, and Mrs. Grimes—.”

Waylon stood abruptly, fixing me with his intense gaze.

My words cut off mid-thought, and I gulped down more of them. “Sorry.”

“Whatever Mrs. Grimes wants to do, she’s welcome to do,” he said. “As long as she’s not fucking with us or what’s ours.”

Did that mean me? The thought gave me another thrill of excitement and pride. I was theirs. And they were mine.

“And if she is?” I asked. I didn’t want to tell him she’d slapped me around, since I hated the thought of them beating up an old lady. Not that they’d do that. Right? Surely Wyoming justice took into account a person’s gender.

“Is she?” he asked.

“No, but hypothetically, what if she was?”

“Let’s worry about that when the time comes,” he said, studying me intently. “We got plenty to worry about already.”

“Like the ranch?”

Waylon’s back stiffened. “Like the ranch,” he agreed.

“What if you sold, like, a little piece of it?” I asked. “Could you get enough from the sale to save the rest?”

“We’re not selling the ranch,” he said, his hands curling around the edge of the engine well.

“I just meant a little piece.”

He glared death rays at me. “No.”

“Okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “I was just trying to help.”

“A bookkeeper who wants to sell the ranch,” he growled in disgust, then twisted savagely on something in the engine. A curl of fire licked to life inside me. Damn, he was sexy, even when he was pissed. Maybe especially then. I imagined that bolt was my nipple he was twisting, and my knees quaked.

I shook my head, clearing away the nighttime thoughts. Today, we had business to attend to. And I was determined to be a professional if I worked here, just like they were. If such a thing as professional ranchers existed. They took it seriously, going out before dawn every morning and working until dark most days. If I was going to play my part, I was going to work just as hard.

But with a few more hours of sleep.

I’d known he wouldn’t go for selling part of the ranch. That’s why I had put that idea in his head first. Now I could revisit my real dream.

“What about renting out the cabins?” I asked, then rushed ahead before he could shoot me down. “Mrs. Grimes can clean them after guests, or I will, if she leaves. I’ll decorate them with an authentic cowboy vibe so guests can feel like they’re being all rugged and rustic, but they’ll be staying in comfy cabins.”

Waylon grunted. I stepped up and put a hand on his sculpted bicep.

“I’m sure you’ve seen going by on their way to the Tetons. Imagine letting them stay here, holed up in a warm cabin while having ready access to the mountains. It’ll be cheaper than up in Jackson Hole, but close enough to get back after skiing and stay the night. And we could offer horseback riding lessons. Holden’s an excellent teacher, as I can attest to myself.”