Chapter 8
EMMA STARED OUT the front window of the main house as she contemplated the multitude of options at her disposal when it came to killing Cade.
First, she really had to talk to him about some contractor issues and definitely resolve the delay in the furniture delivery. But after that? All bets were off.
It had been made clear at the morning meeting that Cade considered frugality a religion, and the expenses incurred for her firm’s services went against his belief system. She’d already discerned as much from her conversations with him.
She was no stranger to living lean. When receivables had begun their decline over the past eighteen months, Emma had been forced to learn to live frugally in order to keep from losing her two-bedroom apartment on Seventy-second Street.
By cutting back hard in her personal life and eating a lot of packaged noodle dinners, she’d been able to keep all her staff on.
No one had lost his or her job because of the company’s struggles.
Now more than ever, she appreciated the true value of a dollar earned and a dollar saved.
But she also appreciated the effort she put into earning and saving that money. If Cade couldn’t show her that he respected the value of her work, she was going to have a real issue with finishing this job.
And this contract had to go off without a hitch.
The guest list for the cattle drive event was full of names that would help rebuild the firm’s client roster into the robust thing it used to be.
By having these people witness her in action, see the results of her efforts, she should be able to generate a win-win for both the ranch and her company.
All she had to do was ensure that every guest left here with the surety that she was qualified to run an efficient PR and marketing campaign.
Then she could figure out what the hell was going on with Michael.
Prove once and for all whether he was undermining her and, if necessary, fire his ass.
However, if Cade was belligerent and made people think he didn’t want them there, if he was anything other than welcoming, she was going to have a real fight on her hands.
So she had to make sure he was on board for the grand opening, or she was going to pay someone to truss him up and gag him while the ranch’s first guests were here.
She couldn’t allow him to destroy her efforts with well-timed barbs or, worse, comments on her inefficiency or some such nonsense.
She cringed. Her plans and expectations sounded both militaristic and impersonal now, more so than they had at the table this morning.
Eli had been all about operating as she proposed, but he was a lawyer by education and experience.
The win-at-all-costs, general lack of concern for other people’s overall well-being, including Cade’s individuality, was Michael’s style.
Not hers. And that left her with the distinct sensation she needed to shower.
In bleach. It was almost over, though. This event was going to get things on track.
Then she could operate the way Reagan and Ty did, with a more humanistic approach.
She just couldn’t afford to soften her resolve. Not for thirteen more days.
Which brought her full circle, because it meant getting Cade on board.
She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth, pausing halfway as a horse and rider topped the hill.
The horse was magnificent, broad and heavily muscled with a smooth gait and a sense of confidence she’d never known an animal could exude.
His brown coat gleamed with sweat. His black mane and tail simply shone.
When the cowboy called out to someone, the horse never faltered, just kept his forward momentum toward the barn.
At an invisible directive from the cowboy, he slowed to a walk.
The man rode as if he’d been born in the saddle, relaxed and yet obviously in control. He was masculine grace personified—broad shoulders, narrow waist, chestnut-brown hair that shone in the sun when he removed his Stetson.
Cade.
Half of her wanted to stand there and watch him, unobserved, as he interacted with others, to discover the differences in how he treated her versus the others on the ranch.
Did he show her any favor? Did it even matter?
The last question was the deciding factor.
Setting her coffee cup on the kitchen counter, she crossed to the foyer, slipped her feet in her designer cowboy boots and walked out the front door.
He’d dismounted and disappeared into the barn, so she headed there.
She hadn’t made it thirty yards before a discreet wolf whistle sounded.
Someone hollered for the men to, “hold your comments to none, thanks.” Glancing around, she spied Ty on the roof of one of the cabins, attaching the tin to the wood decking. Stomping over, she glared up at him.
“Don’t glare at me,” he said on a laugh. Then he pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg before retrieving a bandana and wiping his brow. “Your problem client just went into the barn.”
Emma had to admit Ty was attractive, and he ran this particular crew with efficiency and good humor. But it wasn’t him who crowded her mind and kept her tossing and turning all night.
“What’s with the wolf whistling?” she asked.
He shook his head and climbed down the ladder. “Ignore ’em. The best-lookin’ thing they usually set their eyes on is me. Pretty woman shows up, they get a little out of control.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“That Cade’s hat?” he asked quietly.
“I suppose it is, yes.” She pulled it off, tracing a finger along the brim.
“Do me a favor, would you? He needs it because he’ll be working out here most of today. I’ve got an extra hat in my truck. Wear mine until we can get you something of your own.”
“Will I need a cowboy hat?”
“Chances are good.”
She grinned. “You sound like a Magic 8 Ball.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time my balls have been called magic,” he countered, returning the smile.
“Lord save us from Covington humility.” Taking in all the trucks parked around, she hesitated. “I have no idea which one is yours.”
He walked her to a very nice, newer model Ford four-wheel drive pickup, opened the door and crawled inside. The gun rack on the rear window didn’t hold a rifle but instead a pristine black Stetson on one hook and a rope on the other. The hat he handed over. The rope he took down and kept.
“What’s with the rope?”
He shrugged. “Insurance.”
“You’re the strangest man,” she said, shaking her head.
“We’ll see.” He jerked his chin to the barn. “Now, go give him his hat and kick his ass. After his smart-ass remarks to me this morning, he deserves it.”
“So I’m your muscle, huh?” she teased.
He flexed and she laughed. “Put those things away before someone gets hurt,” she said lightly.
“I wouldn’t hurt a fly, sweetheart.”
“Hurt feelings. Not many men as pretty as you, cowboy.” She reached up and chucked him under the chin, earning her a wide grin.
“You may have strange tastes in men, but at least you’re not blind.”
Laughing again, she spun on her heel and started toward the barn, switching hats as she walked.
CADE HOSED ZIGGY off behind the barn. When the horse was sufficiently cooled down, Cade took the flat side of a shedding blade and pulled as much water off Ziggy’s coat as possible before taking him into his stall.
There, Cade brushed him down with a soft brush, oiled his hooves and dumped some grain in the horse’s feed trough.
He included an amino acid supplement to help the horse recover faster from the morning’s hard ride, guilt eating at him over having let the big guy run as he had without a truly proper warm-up.
As a precaution, he decided to wrap his cannons. Then he’d...
Cade shook his head, ashamed of himself. He was hiding in the barn like some kid who knew he was going to get it for taking off when there were chores to do.
“To hell with that,” he muttered. “I’m a grown man. I’ll do as I see fit and take care of the ranch the way it’s always been done.”
“Right,” said a familiar feminine voice, the drawl laced with a bite.
Cade spun so fast Ziggy shied away.
“Because to do it any other way could be dangerous,” Emma continued. “It could result in sex in a thunderstorm, racing across pastures to hide in a copse of aspens, joining someone in a shower or even—”
“Enough,” he bit out.
Hurt flashed in her eyes, and he wondered at it. For her to be hurt, it implied she’d given him some level of importance. And after what she’d said last night, that left him thoroughly confused.
She’d made it clear she considered them oil and water.
She considered him water—basic, predictable, accessible, flip on a tap or flush a toilet and there he was, common.
She was oil—superior, worldly, offered in specialty shops, flavorful.
What had happened between them had been nothing more than a shake-up.
Then they’d quickly returned to where she considered they belonged.
“Cade!”
His chin snapped up. “What?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Have you heard a word I said?”
“Had other things on my mind.” Talking Ziggy down, he unbuckled the horse’s halter and stepped out of the stall, closing it behind him. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a CliffsNotes version of the lecture, do you? I’ve got things to do.”
“I wasn’t going to... That’s a lie. I was going to lay into you for blowing off this morning’s meeting.”
“Had other things to do.”
“Yesterday you talked about wanting to protect this way of life and not allow it to become some five-dollar pony show. If you’re serious about that, or if you want the right to chew me out over how I handle this project, you have to show up to the meetings.
Otherwise, as far as I’m concerned, you’re giving me and your family carte blanche to do what we determine is best. In that case?
You’ll keep your complaints to yourself. Clear enough for you?”
He stepped into the tack room and hung the halter on the appropriate peg before stepping into the doorway and leaning against the door casing.
“Why would I bother complaining? It’s not as if you’ll be here that long.
I can hold my tongue till you’re gone, then make the changes that I think need making. ”
Her eyes went wide. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
Instead of trying again, she flung the hat in her hands at him, Frisbee-style.
“Go to hell, Covington.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked away, her T-shirt tucked into Wrangler jeans so snug they left him wondering if he’d find a panty line if he ran his fingers over her rear.
Then reality struck. She’d thrown his hat. He snatched it up and started after her. “Emma, hold on.”
She didn’t stop, slow down or acknowledge him in any way.
“Why are you so upset?”
“Because I deserve respect—from all of you.” She met his gaze head-on. “And instead? Eli questioning me when we first arrived, Ty making excuses for the contractors’ wolf whistling and you...” She trailed off and looked away. “Enough said.”
“Why did you? Lie, that is,” he clarified when she shot him a quick, confused look. “Last night, you lied to Eli.”
Gesturing to the hat with her chin, she said, “Might pick that up before the dirt makes it unsalvageable.”
Spinning on her heel, she left him standing in the barn, hat in his hands.