Wild for Walker (Silver Spoon Cowboys #2)

Chapter One

Letty

"This is…wow," I whisper, trying desperately not to gape at the kitchen around me. It's state-of-the-art, with pots and pans hanging from hooks over a central island, three different stoves, and enough workspace to make a chef's dreams come true. I've never seen anything like it.

The kitchen at Tapias certainly wasn't like this. We were lucky if the sink wasn't overflowing and the trash compactor worked without an assist from the Virgin Mary.

I doubt a single item in this kitchen has ever failed.

"You like it?" Tanner Carrington grins over at me. "It should have everything you need to keep these cowboys fed."

"It's perfect," I murmur, running my hand across a countertop. "Just one question."

"Shoot."

"Are you sure you trust me to do this?"

"Trust you?" He cocks his head to the side. "I've had your cooking, Letty. Believe me, anything you make will be a goddamn treat compared to what these idiots have been making for themselves for the last six months."

"Thanks." I avert my gaze, still not sure how to take a compliment from one of the Carringtons.

They're billionaires with a ranch big enough to prove it.

I'm…well, I'm something. I was born in the back of a pickup, eighty miles from the nearest hospital.

Life never really got any easier after that.

I think maybe I just got better at tackling it.

"You'll do great," Tanner says. "And I'll pay you five times what Jorge was paying you."

"F-five times?" I blink wide eyes at him. That'll put me over six figures a year! Considering my bank account currently has a whopping .63c in it, it's safe to say that's more money than I've ever seen in my life. "That's really not necessary, Tanner."

"Believe me, sweetheart, it is." He grimaces.

"One thing these motherfuckers can do is eat.

If you're going to feed them five days a week, you'll be busy.

You'll earn every penny. Here." He strides across the kitchen to a tablet, snatching it up.

"This is where you'll put in your order every week, whatever you need.

Just order it all through the app here. The grocery store in town will pack it all up and deliver it.

If you need help putting it away, ask some of the hands. "

"I can do it," I say softly, peering at the grocery app on the tablet. It seems straightforward enough, except everything is in bulk. Makes sense, considering he and his brothers have around twenty men they have to feed every day, sometimes more.

"I know you can." Tanner grins at me. "When you're ready, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"Um…" I quickly set the tablet back on the dock and then turn toward him. "I'm ready."

We head out of the kitchen, through the simple mess hall, and out into the early morning sunshine.

I pause, peering out into the field. Some of the hands are out there, trying to catch a bull.

Or maybe they're just chasing it for fun.

I'm not entirely sure, but judging by the amount of cursing they're doing, the bull is definitely going to win.

"Avoid that bastard," Tanner grunts, nodding at the bull. "He's mean as hell."

"Aren't they all?" I ask. I've never met a bull personally, but none of the ranchers who ate at Tapias had anything nice to say about any of theirs. They were different variations of assholes, bastards, and the spawn of Satan.

Tanner booms laughter, slapping his cowboy hat back onto his head. "Shit. You ain't wrong about that. They're all a bunch of bastards."

I grin up at him, relieved that I know at least that much about life on a ranch. I suspect I may be in way, way over my head when it comes to the rest of it. But I just signed on to live—and work—beside twenty oversized cowboys anyway.

What I know about them, I learned in books. Somehow, I seriously doubt the reality version is anything like the bargain-bin Harlequin version. I guess I'll find out soon enough, though, right?

"This is your place," Tanner says, striding across the dying grass to a small house with a tidy front porch and rosebushes.

The shutters are blue. So is the front door.

"You'll live here alone. You don't have to allow anyone through the door that you don't want inside.

You make the rules in your place, and it's yours for as long as you work here. "

"What about rent?"

"Rent?" He shakes his head, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "You're saving our asses here, Letty. You don't pay rent."

"But—"

"No buts. We pay your room and board. We pay your insurance.

We pay for whatever you need in the kitchen.

Hell, we even contribute to a 401k for you.

" He smirks at me, holding the front door open for me to enter.

"You're welcome to have people over, treat it like your own place…

whatever. Just no parties without prior approval.

And be respectful after ten. Work starts early as fuck around here, every damn day. "

"I won't be throwing parties," I mutter, ducking under his arm to step inside.

You have to know people to have parties.

Since Tapias went under, most of the people I knew have scattered.

The few who remained in Silver Spoon Falls aren't the partying type.

They have bills to pay and families to feed.

I stop just inside the doorway, gaping again. The house is beautiful, with soft cream walls, plush carpeting, and plenty of natural light. It's also fully furnished.

"Feel free to change anything you want," Tanner rumbles behind me. "We can haul things out and move your stuff in this week."

My stuff is falling apart. The couch sags in the middle, and if you aren't careful on my bed, you spend most of the night with a spring jabbing you in the hip. The stuff in here looks too expensive to ever sag or betray you.

"I'd like to keep it," I say softly, glancing back at Tanner. "I mean, if that's okay."

"It's fine." Tanner's lips pull down into a tiny frown. "Relax. I'm not going to fire you if you chill. You're allowed to do that."

"I know." I blow out a sharp breath. "I'm just…nervous."

"Yeah, I'm getting that. It's been a while since you've had a soft place, huh?"

"Yeah, something like that." I'm not sure I ever had one…

but I'm not telling him that. The Carringtons bleed blue.

I doubt they understand what it's like to juggle three jobs just to keep a roof over your head or worry about whether you'll be able to pay the bills and eat.

They're a lot more generous with their privilege than most, though.

They're genuinely good people, just trying to make a difference.

"Well, welcome home," he says. "This is your soft place.

You don't owe us anything for it beyond two meals and some sandwiches, five days a week.

You don't have to put up with any bullshit to earn it.

If any of these assholes give you any problems, feel free to take a cattle prod to their balls and call me. I'll put them out on their asses."

"I can handle myself," I say firmly.

He smirks at me, all mischief and amusement. "Oh, I'm well aware. I've seen you handle yourself."

My cheeks flush, but it's not like he's wrong. What woman in the restaurant business hasn't had some asshole smack her ass? He was at Tapias the last time a drunk cowboy smacked mine. I'm pretty sure the man was still wearing my handprint against his face when Tanner helped toss him out.

"Yo, Tanner!"

I jump, startled when someone shouts from right outside.

"Jesus Christ." Tanner turns toward the door. "In here, Walker!" he shouts before glancing at me again. "Walker Jessup is one of the hands here. He helps Flint, our manager, keep everyone in line. If you have any problems with anyone, you go to him."

The whole porch shakes as the man outside stomps across it before appearing in the doorway. He fills every inch of it, blocking out the light with his brawny body.

The first thing I notice is his eyes. They're this rich brown color, like coffee.

They're also stern as hell. The rest of his face is just as beautiful, and just as stern.

He's beautiful the way only a cowboy can be—rugged, rough, and a touch wild.

His gaze runs over me like he's measuring the weight of my heart against a feather, his full upper lip curling slightly.

"Who the fuck is she?" he growls, his voice like sandpaper. He's talking to Tanner, but his eyes never leave my face. They're boring into me, determined to root out all my secrets.

I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. I want to look away from him or say something, but I can't. I'm trapped in his gaze, completely breathless.

"Walker, this is Letty Alvarez, our new cook. Letty, this is Walker Jessup," Tanner says, introducing us.

"Hi," I whisper, my voice shaking. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Walker."

"Our new cook?" Walker growls, his eyes still locked on my face. "Oh, hell no. She isn't fucking cookin' for us."

What the hell?

"Oh," Tanner says with a chuckle, "but she is."

Walker scowls in response, and I think maybe I won't cook for him. Maybe I'll just poison him instead. It'll serve him right for being such a monumental asshole.

He just met me, and he's already being rude. Unbelievable!