Cowboy Dad

Although Natalie should have left—did her long talk with herself at dinner mean nothing?—she lingered. “How are you getting on with your bunkmates?”

“Great.”

“I should have warned you about Teresa.”

“What? And take all the fun out of it?” He pulled wet clothes from the washer and tossed them in the dryer.

“I really didn’t have any choice but to put you with them. Our employee contracts limit the number of people we can assign to a bunkhouse.”

“I like sleeping on the couch.”

Natalie winced. “I’m pretty sure we have a cot in one of the storage rooms. I’ll check on it tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing a button on the dryer. With a squeaky groan, the drum started spinning.

“You say that now. But after eight weeks—”

“I’ll still be fine. Really.”

A moment passed with neither of them moving. Even Shiloh quieted, her little arms no longer wiggling.

Natalie broke the silence. “Can I at least give you a ride to your bunkhouse?”

“No, thanks. I’ll walk back with my new roomies after my clothes are dry.”

“Okay.”

Her estimation of Aaron rose another notch. No one would think much of her giving one of the owners a ride. They would think a whole lot more of that owner if he walked.

Natalie took a step toward the door. There really was no reason to stay. So why didn’t she leave? “You going back to the dining hall?”

Aaron leaned a hip on the washing machine. “In a few minutes. I have some calls to make.”

Her eyes automatically went to the cell phone clipped to his belt. “You can’t get a signal everywhere on the ranch. It’s best near the main lodge and only when the weather’s not overcast.”

His expression warmed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Natalie wanted to bite her tongue. The line she delivered ten times a day to guests had sounded like an invitation to walk with her. It was all the incentive she needed to finally get a move on.

“Good night, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Stepping outside, she decided it would be for the best if she avoided Aaron as much as possible in the coming weeks. Technically, she worked for him, and it was her duty, her responsibility, to be helpful. But helpful didn’t include chitchatting in the laundry room. The last thing she wanted was for him to get the wrong idea.

Leaving him behind, she backtracked the way she’d come, her gaze focused on the uneven ground ahead. A shadow entered her line of vision. For the second time that night, she stopped short just before colliding with someone. Only this someone was her boss. Jake Tucker.

She didn’t need to see his face to know he wasn’t happy.

Chapter Three

Natalie skipped her usual sit-down breakfast the next morning. She had a hundred and one things to do and only two hours of uninterrupted work time while her mother watched Shiloh. After that, Deana would leave for the antique shop in Payson, an easy twenty-minute drive south on the highway.

Entering the dining hall, Natalie headed straight for the coffee station and filled her jumbo travel mug. On her way to the kitchen, she stopped by one of the tables and grabbed an English muffin, wrapping it in a napkin.

“Morning, honey,” her father called from the opposite table.

“Hey, Dad.”

Any other day, Natalie would have rushed over to give her father a quick hug or peck on the cheek. But this morning, he sat with Aaron Reyes, and they looked rather chummy with their heads bent, going over papers and maps and handwritten lists.

It wasn’t just their obvious involvement in whatever they were discussing that gave Natalie pause. Jake’s warning from the previous night still rang in her ears. He hadn’t told her not to talk to Aaron ever again, but he didn’t have to. She’d worked for Jake in some capacity since she was fourteen and long ago learned to read between his spoken lines.

“Gotta run.” She waved a hand at her father and smiled brightly, hoping neither he nor Aaron realized they were being snubbed. “See you later.” Sipping her coffee, she hurried toward the kitchen.

Natalie had her own list to go over with Olivia Barraza, supervisor of the kitchen crew and indisputable queen of her domain.

“Buenos días, chiquita,” she said to Natalie upon seeing her come into the kitchen. Though it had been a good many years since Natalie was a little girl, Olivia still used the endearment.

When Natalie took over her mother’s position, she’d worried that some of the staff, particularly those employees like Olivia who’d watched Natalie grow up and, on occasion, supervised her, wouldn’t accept her once they were on equal footing.

In Olivia’s case, Natalie’s worries were for nothing. They worked well together. When they weren’t on duty, Olivia treated Natalie like a beloved niece and Shiloh like one of her numerous grandchildren.

“I’ve got the most recent advance-booking numbers to go over with you.” Natalie pulled a stool up to the counter and took a seat. Weekly menus varied, depending on the number of guests staying at the ranch. To ensure the food served was the freshest possible, orders weren’t placed until the last minute.

Olivia dried her hands on a dish towel and came over to join Natalie. She was followed by one of her helpers, who, like Olivia, had been cleaning up after breakfast. The dishwasher, a young man barely into his twenties, remained at the sink, scrubbing a pot.

No sooner would the last fork be washed and dried and put away than the staff would start preparing lunch. When the new season started and there was an army of hungry guests to feed, twice the current staff would run the kitchen sixteen hours a day, operating with the precision and efficiency of a factory assembly line. Olivia tolerated nothing less.

“Before you get into that—” she settled herself onto the stool beside Natalie with a grace that belied her generous size “—there’s something we want to talk to you about.”

“We?”

She nodded at her helper. “Gerrie and I. Lucia and Pat, too,” she said, referring to her other two helpers who weren’t there.

“About what?” Natalie asked, a tad uneasy. Olivia was so rarely somber.

“Shiloh.”

“Shiloh?”

“Yes.” Olivia inched closer. So did Gerrie.

Natalie felt surrounded. “I don’t understand.”

“We know you need a babysitter and can’t find one.”

“That’s true. But—”