Chapter One
Scarlett
I lean closer to my computer and stare at the spreadsheet in front of me. I’ve only been running Mail Order Ranch for the past six months, and it’s already doubled its profits. Most people would think that was a good return, that maybe I’m a smart businesswoman, a woman perfectly capable of running a ranch on her own.
My father won’t.
He’ll give me a lecture on the sustainability of rapid profit growth and point out every fault he sees under the guise of love and concern for my overall wellbeing. He’ll remind me that I don’t have a pot to piss in without him, and he’ll most likely threaten to close the place down if I don’t continue to grow profit over the next six months.
My chest tightens just thinking about his gruff, judgmental tone. I need to stop relying on him to make a living, but I have no idea how. The man owns corporations like they’re baseball cards, and my life has always been about following in his footsteps with entrepreneurial spirit and drive. I don’t know what exists for me beyond that.
Two knocks lay softly on my office door, and I glance up to see Opal, a no-nonsense blonde with an attitude I identify with. We’re both young, professional, and desperately trying to get ahead in a world set up for men.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says with a grin. “Just stopping in on my way to the kitchen. I have a three-course meal today for cabin twenty-two. I can only imagine who might be in there.”
I smile. “Well, if word gets out, I’ll know who told the press.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “Yeah. I don’t get the whole Buck Dalton thing. I mean, I get that people are all enamored by the whole country star vibe, but isn’t he like… a drunk? I mean, they have video of him throwing chairs off rooftops.”
“I spent a few hours with him after the matchmaker did her assessment and he’s not so bad. I think he got lost in fame for a while, but who wouldn’t let all that money and attention go to their heads?”
She straightens her white jacket and shakes her head. “Sounds like you should take your shot. Maybe you’re the long-lost love he’s desperate to write his next song about.”
“Yeah, I’m done dating.” I take a sip of the coffee I grabbed at the bakery on my way in this morning. I’ve been addicted to their honey almond cold brew since the day it released. “Anyway, how’s everything in the kitchen? Any drama I should be aware of?”
Opal grins wide, showing off her pearly white teeth. Every time I see them, I think about how I need to have mine whitened, but I don’t have the money. Sure, I could take from the stipend my father gives me, but I’ve been refusing it. My goal is to get the ranch to make enough money that I can pay him back and take over everything myself. You’d think doubling your profits would mean freedom, but unfortunately that number doesn’t include operating costs and all the expansion we’ve been doing. I’m not sure if that was a good idea yet or not.
“Nothing to speak of so far, but with all the new services we’re offering, it might be beneficial to hire someone else in the kitchen. I’m keeping up right now, but I’m not sure how long that’ll last.”
“I’m on it. We’ll put a listing out, and I’ll send you every resume I get. You can hire from there.” My stomach tightens as I say the words. We’re growing rapidly, and that’s a good thing, but it costs money, and to me, money means freedom.
“Me?” She narrows her gaze as though she’s confused by the request.
“You’re the head chef. You should do the hiring for your kitchen.”
“Okay then.” She stands from the chair and pulls her long blonde hair into a tight bun on top of her head. “I won’t disappoint you. Promise.”
If there’s anyone here I know won’t disappoint me, it’s Opal. We have different backgrounds, but her work ethic is very much like my own. We both have something to prove, and we’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.
“Oh,” she stops in the doorway and turns back, “I wanted to wish you luck on that meeting with Clyde today. I know you were nervous about it.”
Clyde! Oh my God! “Shit! I completely forgot about Clyde.”
Opal narrows her brows. “Cancel. You’re running the entire place. He’ll understand.”
“He won’t.” I roll my eyes and tap my pen against the notebook next to my computer. “He’s got the entire construction crew worked up about the security cameras being installed.”
“What about them?”
“They’re going to be all over the property so security can keep a closer eye on everything. Some people think they're invasive.”
“Damn,” she laughs. “You’ll know all the shit people talk about in the lunchroom. That sounds entertaining as hell.”
I laugh. “Entertaining, but also informative. Too many employees are disclosing personal information about our clients. I need to know who’s at fault.”
“Morning.” The massive, trouble causing, beast of a man presents himself in the doorway with two cups of coffee and a grin that reminds me of some bearded, tattooed, flannel wearing, television cowboy I can’t put my finger on. “You got yourself an elk fight out there this morning. It’s causing a stir with the tourists.”
Opal glances toward me with a knowing grin and excuses herself, nodding toward Clyde as she walks out the door. “I’ll let you two chat. Breakfast isn’t gonna cook itself.”
“There’s an elk fight most mornings,” I exhale. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a little out of sorts right now. Today has been terribly hectic already.” I’m hoping he catches my drift and excuses himself from the meeting, but he sets the cup of coffee on my desk and leans back in the chair in front of me with enough confidence for an entire ranch of people. All of that arrogance despite the filthy boots, the muddy jeans, and dirt-stained hands.
“I thought you big business types were always organized.” His tone is deep and rough, sending some kind of shiver through me I don’t understand.
“I am. I’m actually very, very organized. I have files for files. I color code everything. I journal about structure every morning.”
Why am I so insulted by a comment about organization?
“Maybe that’s the problem. You’ve got too many files.” He’s so blasé about his words that I can’t stand it. I mean, who does this guy think he is, coming into my office to insult my organizational style?
“There’s no problem. I don’t have too many files.”
“You said you were out of sorts.”
“Yeah, that means I’m off today, not unorganized.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Some part of me wonders if this little back and forth is a tactic to get me frazzled before he launches into some random conversation about the business he knows nothing about. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused what this meeting is about. The last time we spoke, I was clear about the security cameras. Your job as contractor is to keep building cabins. I don’t need you to worry about anything else.”
“I think a few trees and a taller fence would prove sufficient for privacy.”
“ Trees? How are trees going to provide security for my guests? I’m worried about more than the press. I’m trying to protect my client’s privacy. The security I’m having installed will help with that.”
He narrows his thick brows and leans forward as though I’m the idiot and he’s the savant. “You’re providing an experience here, correct?”
I close my eyes and sigh, hoping he picks up on the dissatisfaction I’m having with this conversation. “Yes.”
“Okay, well, adding evergreens to the fence line will create a natural barrier to block photographers and whoever else might be lurking around.”
“Do you want to plant trees, Clyde? If it’s in the budget, go to town. I’m all for enhancing the beauty of the ranch.” I do believe we could use a few more trees on the west side of the lot to block press access, especially if we’re catering to higher-profile clientele. “That said, I’ll be moving forward with my plan for security, regardless.”
He shakes his head and lowers his tone as he says, “The security you’re talking about is an invasion of your workers' privacy, and my men are refusing to work because of it.”
Of course this is happening. Why wouldn’t it be? “Why are your workers so worried about being recorded? What are they doing out there?”
“They’re a group of blue-collar men. They shit talk to pass the time. They don’t want to worry about how they’re perceived by some random third party. They’re hardworking, they’re fast, and they’re careful. Let them do their work in peace.”
Heat flushes through my body, and my pulse speeds. His team of men are finishing the final row of cabins. Cabins I spent way too much on. Cabins I need to fill immediately so I can keep this place afloat when I pay off my dad. “I’m not sure why I hired you if you can’t keep your men in line. If they don’t want to work, they can vacate the premises.”
Clyde grins and swipes his massive hand down over his beard. “You don’t have a lot of experience with this, do you?”
My shoulders tense and my blood boils at a temperature I didn’t know my body was capable of. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re in a small town, working with small-town people. If you don’t treat them right, they’ll quit. Then what?”
I don’t humor him with an answer. “Did I miss the part where you had your MBA? Because I have two of them. One in business and the other specializing in marketing.” I tilt my head to the side and cross my arms over my chest. “What’s yours in?”
“I’d never pay someone to teach me things I can learn by doing them, but good for you. That must have cost you a lot of money.”
Why am I suddenly feeling violent? Maybe it’s that every man I meet thinks they’re smarter than me, despite all the evidence to the contrary. A smile creeps up onto my face, and I step around my desk, staring at him. “If your people want to quit, they should quit. Will you be following them?”
“No way,” he says with a grin, standing from the chair to take a step toward me. “I love a good shit show. When you’ve got no one building your cabins, you’ll have plenty in the budget for trees. Guess I’ll start there.” He takes another step closer, hovering over me, the scent of cedar and pine on his skin.
Why does it smell so good?
Actually, no, he doesn’t smell good. He smells like the woods, and the woods smell good.
“You love a good shit show? Well, good, cause you’re about to get one.” I don’t know what that means. I don’t want any of this to be a shit show. I want him to go back to work, I want the guys to finish their job, and I want everyone I hired to respect the privacy of the clients involved here so I can make enough cash to pay off my father and be done with his overbearing bullshit.
The giant rolls his dark eyes and turns toward the door, giving me a full view of the package he carries with him as he twists. It’s pretty impressive. Like, really, really impressive.
God, why am I looking?
“Can’t wait,” he grins.
“Oh, I bet you can’t,” I bark as I make my way back to my desk to search for a bottle of Tylenol. Lucky me, today is already off to a great start.