Chapter 4
“Six months. That was our deal.” Dad didn’t look up from the pot of water he was bringing to a boil—which meant spaghetti for dinner, again—didn’t even wait for me to get a word in when I entered the kitchen before he spoke.
Although, to be fair, he wasn’t wrong. I was here to renege.
“I don’t recall making that deal,” I said. “In fact, I specifically recall not saying anything.”
“Silence is acceptance, legally speaking. They said so on one of those legal dramas, so it must be true. Anyway, as it so happens, her contract says she gets six months’ pay, whether we terminate her tomorrow or she stays on until Christmas. I figure we might as well get the work out of her if she’s getting the money out of us.”
I stared at him. “That’s not the usual contract we offer.”
“No, it’s not. But James is special. If you can’t see that, you’re an idiot.”
I grimaced. I wasn’t an idiot. Of course I could see that James was special. She was like the sun. Anyone fortunate enough to stand next to her felt a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter. Dad, Ben—they both liked her. Even Chloe from the coffee shop had been smitten.
I saw the way Blaine reacted to her, too. In that quick half-hour meeting, she had managed to make him feel valued and respected. I believe him, she had said, and he had stood taller. That went a long way with Blaine. I would have said she’d played him exactly right, except I didn’t think she had been playing. She actually meant it.
Goddammit.
“Now, I know you were surprised that she showed up looking like she did when you were expecting a man”—Dad fought his grin mightily, lost, and allowed himself a chuckle before getting serious again—“but you know that has nothing to do with how well she can do the job. Your mother was the best horseperson around. She could ride circles around any one of us, except maybe Zack. So I know you’re not going to stand here in your mother’s kitchen and tell me that James isn’t man enough for the job.”
No, I wasn’t going to say that. Mom would rise up from her grave to spit in my face if I said that. I had no problem with James being a woman. James being that woman? Yeah, I had a huge problem with that.
Dad heated a glug of olive oil in a pot, then tossed in a palmful of fresh, minced garlic. Then he popped open a jar of store-bought pasta sauce and dumped it in, followed by a splash of red wine. That was Dad through and through: store bought, but fancied up a bit.
“See, here’s the thing. We’d met before.”
Dad looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this evening at the barn wasn’t the first time we met.”
“Then how come you didn’t know James was a woman? The name is too uncommon to be a coincidence. But I saw your face. You were shocked.”
I scratched my unshaven jaw. “It wasn’t the kind of situation where names were exchanged.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Dad pointed the wooden spoon at me. “Do not tell me you met her at some shady, rent-by-the-hour—”
“Dad, for heaven’s sake,” I said, exasperated. “Aspen Springs doesn’t have motels that rent rooms by the hour.”
Dad eyeballed me speculatively. “That’s the sort of thing a man wouldn’t know unless he tried.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Heaven grant me patience. “Dad.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I’m just saying.”
“Well, I didn’t meet her at some shady motel. I met her at Jo’s, getting coffee.”
And then I told him all of it. Mostly. I left out the part where James walked in looking like sunshine and smelling like a memory, and the combination had been far too interesting to my dick. But the part about us smashing our faces together, yeah. I told him that.
A normal man might have understood that this was no laughing matter. Not my dad. No, he laughed himself sick. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he howled, gasping for breath, bracing his arms on the counter for support.
“I’m glad you find it funny,” I said. “Because I sure don’t.”
Dad pulled himself together, though it took effort. “Son, it’s hilarious. Quite frankly, the fact that you don’t think so makes me worry about you. You never laugh anymore. You never smile. Life is gonna knock us down time and again, that’s a fact. Nothing you can do except laugh about it. Why take everything so seriously?”
I ground my molars together. If I didn’t take things seriously, who would? Not Dad, clearly.
“But you understand why James isn’t going to work out, right? We can’t work together after that.”
“No, I don’t understand, as a matter of fact. She must have been every bit as embarrassed as you, but she still acted professional. If there’s a problem here, it’s your problem. And I know you’re not going to make your problem the ranch’s problem. Lodestar is struggling and you know that. We’re not going to pay James six months to not work just so you can save face.”
“I’m thirty-five, Dad. I don’t need a lecture about responsibility and duty.” Especially not when I had been the one to step up when he needed me the most.
“Good. Then you won’t have any problem with James coming to dinner tomorrow.”
I did have a problem with that. It was hard to put my finger on exactly what my problem was. Not embarrassment. It took a hell of a lot more than an accidental collision—even a collision involving our mouths—to make me blush. James was…an aggravation. Something about her seeped into my skin and made me itch. Like a sunburn.
Obviously, I couldn’t say that.
Dad turned his back to me to grab a beer from the fridge. I took the opportunity to flip him off. Because he was right and that was galling.
“I saw that,” he said, making me wonder if it was a lucky guess or he really did have eyes in the back of his head.
I made myself useful by setting the table for dinner. Three plates, three glasses of tap water, three sets of utensils. It didn’t take long, but it gave me a second to get my thoughts in order.
Six months. Longer, if she succeeded. And if she didn’t…well, then James would be the least of my problems. If James failed, so did the ranch. I didn’t have it in me to hope for that, not even a little bit. We needed James to succeed. Everyone was depending on me to make this happen. And dammit, I would. I would do whatever I could to help her succeed.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.