Lonesome Ryder: Lonesome Ryder / Restaurant Romeo

WADE WAS GREATLY RELIEVED when his cousins showed up at the end of the week. Leaning heavily on a single crutch, Wade slowly progressed down the hill to reach the barn where Quint and Vance were unloading their saddled horses from the stock trailer. He battled the feeling of uselessness as he watched his cousins tighten cinches and bridle their cow ponies.

“So, how goes it with the housekeeper, cuz?” Quint asked, tossing Wade a smile.

Although it was going better than he preferred, because Laura had been amazingly efficient the past few days, Wade said, “I don’t know how much you’re paying Seymour, but it’s too damn much for what little she does.”

Vance’s dark brows jackknifed. “You don’t say.”

“I do say.”

“What’s wrong exactly?” Quint asked.

“Where do I start? The woman tried to burn off my tongue with her thirty-weight-motor-oil coffee that’s as hot as molten lava, and her cooking skills are barely existent.” Wade made a face and cringed—although the truth was that her coffee was just the way he liked it, and she was such an excellent cook that he gobbled every bite of her meals.

Quint and Vance exchanged glances then stared toward the graveled driveway, noting that Laura’s low-slung sports car was gone. Wade used it as another strike against her.

“I haven’t gotten a full day’s work out of her yet,” he went on. “This afternoon she took off to visit her friend.”

“Well, I’m sure that once she gets settled into a routine things will run smoothly,” Quint defended her.

“Yeah well, it’s your money,” Wade said with a lack-adaisical shrug. “But I’m tellin’ ya, she’s as useless as a headache. I have to wake her up every morning by nine to fix my breakfast. She barely has time to prepare lunch while she’s watching all those soap operas.”

Wade was laying it on thick and his conscience was snarling at him for voicing lies, in hopes of convincing Quint and Vance to can her. Truth was, the woman was so energetic and efficient that it wore him out watching her buzz merrily from one chore to the next.

Like a whirling dervish, she’d attacked the mountain of laundry that had piled up before Wade was injured, as well as the mound that had built up after he’d come home in a cast and sling. The kitchen and bathrooms were spotless, and the house had been vacuumed and dusted within an inch of its life. Laura had also booted up his computer to look at his ranching programs. Like a physician conducting an examination, she’d decided what sort of updates he needed then called in her order. And presto, the software arrived by overnight express. Wade had seen her in his office loading the new software and transferring information like the pro she was.

However, if he gave her a ringing endorsement he’d never get Seymour out of his hair—and off his mind.

Sure ’nuff, having her underfoot 24/7 was driving him up the wall. He was starting to like her. When he deliberately provoked and tormented her, in hopes of driving her away, she sassed him playfully. When he tried to communicate through insults—to annoy her—she responded by insisting that he was suffering from a persecution complex brought on by the hang-ups left in the wake of his ex-wife’s betrayal and that he needed to get over himself. And worse, Wade was actually enjoying their conversations, their verbal sparring and her saucy sense of humor. That was not good.

It had been a long time since he’d experienced such an intense and profound physical attraction to a woman. He wanted her—of course, that went without saying, because she was extremely desirable and tempting. But what scared the bejeezus out of him was that he liked being with her, liked sharing his long hours of his inactivity. That was very bad!

Wade was getting so desperate that he was stooping to concocting outrageous fibs. He was tattling to his cousins, trying to convince them to dismiss Laura. He wasn’t very proud of himself, but this was about self-preservation!

Vance appraised Wade’s freshly laundered, wrinkle-free chambray shirt and jeans then smiled wryly. “You don’t look the worse for wear,” he observed.

“That’s because I hand wash my own clothes,” Wade said.

“Uh-huh, sure you do.” Quint smirked. “I hope you realize we aren’t buying this crock of malarkey you’re shoveling out.”

Damn, he was afraid of that. “Fine, turn a blind eye while she blows off her duties,” Wade muttered. “Throw your money down the toilet. What do I care?”

Quint chuckled as he effortlessly mounted his buckskin gelding. “I don’t know why you just don’t admit you like Laura and get it out in the open.”

“I most certainly don’t like her!” Wade objected—loudly. Another outright lie. He did like her. That was the problem and it wasn’t getting better.

“Right.” Vance scoffed. “Ask me, you’re protesting a little too much, which is a dead giveaway in my book.”

Wade swore ripely. This was his cry for help and his ornery cousins weren’t listening. A man couldn’t even count on his family to save him from disaster.

“Mind if we borrow Frank?” Vance asked as he reined his sorrel toward the corral.

“Sure, take my cow dog, too. You’ve already stuck me with Seymour. What’s one more traitorous act between cousins?”

“Gawd, cuz, you’re breakin’ my heart,” Quint drawled.

“I think I’m gonna break down and cry.” Vance, grinning playfully, wiped imaginary tears from his eyes and sniffled.

“Fine, you guys can sit there cracking wise, but I’m telling you that Seymour shirks her duties and you’re paying her for doing diddly-squat.”

Wade whistled. Frank, his loyal blue heeler, bounded from the barn, wagging his stub of a tail. Frank lived to round up and cut cattle from the herd. He was as efficient as two men on horseback and worth his weight in dog chow.

When Frank stared devotedly up at him, Wade patted the dog’s head then gestured toward the pasture. “Bring ’em in, Frank,” he ordered. When Frank spun on his haunches and sprang into action, Wade cut his cousins a quick glance. “Just stay out of Frank’s way. He can do everything except open and shut the gates.”

Quint leaned away from his horse to unlatch the gate. “Did you teach Frank to inoculate and brand, too?”

“If he could handle something like that I’d have him in the house, cooking and cleaning, because he could run circles around my temp housekeeper,” Wade flung back.

Duff—the bowlegged cowboy, who’d worked at the ranch since Wade was a toddler, and now, recently retired, helped out part-time—appeared at the barn door. “Need some help with roundup, boys?” he asked as he dusted blades of straw from his shirtsleeves.

“Naw,” Vance replied. “Frank’s gonna do all the work. Quint and I will just sit back and twiddle our thumbs until the cattle are penned up.”

Duff grinned, displaying his missing front tooth, and then he gestured toward the barn. “Laura brought down a stack of sandwiches, chips, colas and fresh-baked apple pie and stashed them in the fridge so you boys’d have some lunch. She went to town to restock groceries and pick up supplies. That little gal is something when it comes to working around here. She even helped me muck out the barn and feed the horses before she drove off.”

Wade winced when his cousins’ narrowed gazes branded him the liar he was. Damn Duff and his flapping jaws!

“Not getting our money’s worth?” Quint smirked.

“Lazy?” Vance scoffed.

Duff’s whiskered jaw dropped open and his sunken chest swelled with irritation. “Wade said that about her?” he hooted. “Hell, the little gal even came by last night to bring me supper and spiffied up my place while I ate. I forgot a house could look that clean and smell that good. She even brought me a vase of wildflowers to brighten up the place.”

Great, Wade’s strategy to convince his cousins that Seymour wasn’t pulling her salaried weight was blowing up in his face. How was he to know Duff was going to shout her praises to high heaven?

Duff didn’t shut up, either. He just kept yammering on and on about how “that gal” was the “best thang” that had happened around here in a decade and how she was the “pertiest thang” he’d every laid eyes on in all his sixty-six years.

“I’m feeling nauseous.” Wade turned an awkward one-eighty and limped toward the house. “I better go lie down.”

“First you better stop, drop and roll, right where you are,” Quint called after him, “Your pants are on fire, liar.”

“Does his nose look like it’s growing longer to you?” Vance asked Quint in mock concern.

“Yup, ol’ Pinocchio is in big trouble,” Quint teased.

“Darn tootin’ he is,” Duff chimed in. “His mama and daddy raised him better than to pull a stunt like that!”

Serenaded by teasing laughter Wade returned to the house. He’d gotten no help whatsoever from that quarter. He’d have to run Seymour off the ranch on a rail—all by himself.

LAURA BEAMED IN DELIGHT when she saw Annie Nelson jogging across the street to meet her for lunch. Annie didn’t look much different than she had in college. She was still an attractive bundle of energy and quick with a friendly smile.