Conner's Courage
Book # 4
Whispering Pines Ranch Series
Coming to Dreamspinner Press this Summer!!
a sneak peek
(unedited)
"Excuse me?"
Conner cocked his hip and put a hand on it, stuck out his chest, and met the gaze of the owner of Whispering Pines Ranch with a challenging look. “I said I’m your new cook.” He thrust the flyer he’d ripped down from the gas station wall at the large man looking down at him. “You need a cook, and I need a job. Looks like both our problems are solved.”
The cowboy ran an appraising eye down Conner from his head to his cowboy boots. Conner didn’t so much as flinch at the shock in the dark blue eyes of the ranch owner. He was used to people looking at his small, delicate frame and assuming one of two things. One—that he was much younger than his twenty-nine years, which didn’t bother him at all. Since who wanted to look their age or God forbid older? The youngin’ effect was heightened by the fact that he couldn’t grow facial hair to save his life. The second thing people thought when looking at him—because of his small stature, they assumed that he wasn’t capable of hard work. Neither were true, especially the latter. He was proud of his abilities in the kitchen and wasn’t afraid to bust his ass and get the job done. And done damn well, I might add. There was a third look he was used to as well—disgust. However, he didn’t even give that reaction a second thought anymore.
“Um…yeah… Got a name, kid?”
Assumption number one…check. “First of all, I’m not a kid. I’ll be the big three-oh on my next birthday,” Conner said with a snicker and held out his hand. “And the names Conner. Conner Burnett.”
“Cole Taylor,” the man replied, accepting Conner’s hand in a firm grip and shook it. “You sure don’t look like you’re gonna be thirty.”
“Good genes,” Conner replied with a shrug. About the only good thing his parents had given him. Well, his sexy butt and handsome face were probably due partly to his genes as well since he was naturally thin and, other than his nightly ritual of slathering cold cream on his face, didn’t fuss too much with his looks. I’m legitimately sexy.
Cole tipped his hat back and wiped a meaty paw across his brow, before settling his black Stetson firmly on his blond head. “I got eight regular hands, plus me and the wife, twice that many during hay season. You think you can handle cooking for that many hungry folks?”
Assumption number two…check. “I’m the oldest of seven kids and my mama sure as hell never learned to cook. I’ve worked as a line cook in different diners all over this great country, I’m pretty sure I can handle your folks.” Conner waved a hand at Cole. “I bet I could add some weight to your scrawny butt in no time.”
Cole threw his head back and laughed. “Scrawny? I haven’t been called scrawny since I was a kid.”
“Yeah well, you’ve got yourself a big frame, I’ll give you that, but you need more meat on your bones.”
Cole Taylor was a large man, a large and very sexy man with his dark blue eyes, dishwater blond hair, and thick stubble on his strong jaw. But, he could still use a few pounds added to that bulk of muscle. A bit more of a belly, a thicker chest and he may just be close to perfect. Especially if that barrel chest and belly is covered in a dark pelt. Yum! Heat started to infuse his groin area and he reminded his hardening shaft that Cole Taylor had a wife, they needed this job, and he’d rightly appreciate it if things didn’t start growing until later when they had a little alone time.
The answer to his silent pleading was a tingling sensation that ran down his shaft as it began to swell. Stubborn bastard!
“C’mon in,” Cole said shaking his head and jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the back door. “I’ll show you the kitchen.”
Conner followed Cole into the house, taking a relieved breath when he didn't see any of the disgust in Cole’s eyes. Two out of three he could handle.
“Take your boots off,” Cole said with slight embarrassment in his voice as he toed off his boots. “Sorry. Cindy—that’s my wife—doesn’t like boots on in the house. There’s a basket in the corner filled with slippers.” He pointed to a large wicker basket filled with what looked like various shapes, colors, and sizes of slippers. All of them looked brand new.
Conner turned a questioning look toward Cole as he toed off his own boots.
“Yeah I know,” Cole said with a shrug. “My city girl has a few strange ideas, but she means well.”
Eying the basket, Conner pulled out the smallest pair, bright yellow with fur lining and slipped them on his feet. It was his turn to shrug at Cole’s questioning look. “I think it’s sweet.”
The kitchen was bright and airy, delicate lace curtains waved with the warm breeze coming through the small kitchen window. Conner’s bright yellow slippers were obviously a favorite color of the owner since the sunny color was predominant in the flower-patterned wallpaper. The aroma in the spotless room was also in theme with the décor, a lemony, citrus scent hung pleasingly in the air. Picking up a lemon shaped dish filled with a yellow sponge, Conner said, “I take it your Cindy likes the color yellow?”
“Yup, and trust me when I tell you, the color matches her happy personality too,” Cole responded with a real fondness in his voice.
South of Conner’s waistband was disappointed, but it was nice to know that Cole obviously had a soft spot and cared deeply for his wife. Conner returned the ceramic lemon to its spot at the sink and turned to face Cole, leaning back against the Formica countertop. “So what room is mine and is there anything special you want on the menu tonight?”
“You’re a pushy little shit, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Conner said easily. “You need a cook and I’m a damn good cook, just that simple.”
Cole pulled his Stetson from his head and ran a hand through his hair, making his short blond locks stick up in a spiky mess around his head. “You got a point. What can you cook?”
“Easier question would be—what can’t I cook,” Conner snickered. He turned and started opening cabinet doors, familiarizing himself with the layout. Oh now that’s a surprise. The plates, mugs, and bowls all had the same yellow coloring as the rest of the kitchen. Cindy may have a preference for everything yellow, but she obviously hadn’t ever heard the expression, ‘Less is more’. He opened the door to a large, very nicely stocked pantry, nodding his approval at how clean and organized the kitchen was. “You just tell me what you want to eat and I’ll make it happen. I’ll need authorization to make purchases on your account down at the market. I don’t have time to be coming and looking for you when I need supplies.”
“Umm…Well—”
“And I’ll need access to a vehicle to do the shopping. My old truck is on its last leg and besides, it’s your groceries, so your gas.”
“I usually have them deliver whatever it is we need,” Cole said.
Conner shut the pantry door and pulled open drawers, checking the contents of each one. “No offense, but I’d rather get my own meats and veggies, so I’ll do my own shopping. Either you can give me the keys to your truck or you can take me into town each time I need to go. Don’t make no never mind to me either way.”
“I guess you can take the old Chevy. The keys are hanging on the hook by the back door.”
Conner didn’t turn around, just nodded and opened first the freezer, then the refrigerator. Looks like I’ll be making a run to the market today. The old Frigidaire, unlike the pantry, wasn’t well stocked and seriously lacking in the fresh vegetable department.
Southwestern Chili Con Carne. Conner started searching the fridge, making a mental list of what he’d need. Green bell pepper, red onion, Roma tomatoes, cloves of garlic, and ground chuck. Shutting the fridge, he turned and met Cole’s curious gaze. “Okay, you can show me my room and don’t even think about putting me in a bunk house with the rest of the hands. They’d skin me alive, waking them up early each morning before breakfast was cooked. Not to mention, we're having chili tonight and I’d rather not be around for the aftershocks of that.”
Cole’s eyes were wide and his mouth open and shut a couple of times before he seemed to resign himself to the idea. “We don’t have a bunkhouse, but um…” Cole scratched at his temple, looking at Conner, head cocked to the side. A small smile curled his lip then stretched his arm out. “Right this way.”
Smart man.
