“So you found us another cook?” Cody asked.

His uncle Ted nodded, gnawing at his toothpick. “Working on lunch in the cookhouse as we speak.”

Relief surged through him. “That’s great. I know the hands have been whining about the food. So who did you find?”

“A surprise,” Ted said with a grin Cody didn’t trust.

“You know I don’t like surprises. Just tell me. Clayton’s not that big. Please don’t tell me you listened to Jonathan and got Vivienne Clayton to come and cook.” The city chef would never last on the ranch.

Ted said nothing. Instead he opened the door of the cook shack with a flourish. Cody stepped inside.

And stared in disbelief as the very person he had warned his uncle against now stood in his kitchen.

* * *

Rocky Mountain Heirs:

When the greatest fortune of all is love.

The Nanny’s Homecoming—Linda Goodnight

July 2011

The Sheriff’s Runaway Bride—Arlene James

August 2011

The Doctor’s Family—Lenora Worth

September 2011

The Cowboy’s Lady—Carolyne Aarsen

October 2011

The Loner’s Thanksgiving Wish—Roxanne Rustand

November 2011

The Prodigal’s Christmas Reunion—Kathryn Springer

December 2011

About the Author

CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

The Cowboy’s Lady

Carolyne Aarsen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I’d like to dedicate this book to my amazing

fellow authors in this series: Linda Goodnight,

Deb Rather a.k.a. Arlene James, Lenora Worth,

Roxanne Rustand and Kathryn Springer.

It has been a lot of fun working with you all.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on

your own understanding. In all your ways submit

to him and he will make your paths straight.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

Chapter One

She was back where she started.

How many years had she itched to get out of Clayton, Colorado, aka Hicksville? As soon as she graduated from high school, Vivienne Clayton headed for New York to make her name as a gourmet chef.

But here she was. Back in her hometown. And looking for a job at the Cowboy Café.

Oh, the irony!

Vivienne adjusted the black cardigan she put over the white ruffled T-shirt she’d agonized over choosing. She glanced down at the skinny jeans and black flats she’d chosen for her mission. Too dressy? Not dressy enough?

It would be perfect if she were applying for a chef’s job at any restaurant in New York.

But for the Cowboy Café?

C’mon, Vivienne, she told herself, finger combing her long hair away from her face. You’re a Cordon Bleu–trained chef. You can rise to any culinary occasion. Rise to this one.

And before she left the house this morning, her sister Brooke had said she’d be praying for her—for what that was worth. Vivienne wasn’t sure God heard prayers anymore.

Back in New York, living in her tiny apartment, she felt like a minuscule mote in the endless humanity filling the city. She doubted God even knew where she was then.

Doubted he even cared that she was back in her hometown now.

Just before she took a step up to the door, a memory intruded. Her as a young girl coming to this selfsame café, hoping to get a job as a waitress, hoping to help out her family after her father passed away.

But that was then. This was now, and now she was taking charge of her life.

Before she could reach for the door, however, it flew open and a teenage girl stormed out, sandy brown hair flowing out behind her, her eyes a smudge of black mascara and green eye shadow, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I hate the ranch. I hate living there!” she shouted to the tall, broad-shouldered man who came out right behind her, dropping his cowboy hat on his head. “Just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean you can make me go back.”

“Bonnie, now is not the time,” the man growled. He slanted an embarrassed glance toward Vivienne.

And to her surprise, Vivienne couldn’t look away. Time halted as her heart quickened with an unidentifiable emotion.

He was good-looking—she had to concede that—but something else was happening with her reaction to him. She knew him. Clayton wasn’t a large town, and she had grown up here. She held his gaze, searching his hazel eyes, making note of his dark brown hair, glancing over his stubbled cheeks and chin.

“Viv?” he asked, his dark eyebrows shooting together in a frown. “Vivienne Clayton? I heard you were back.”

She blinked, trying in vain to pull up something to trigger a memory. But nothing. She lifted her hands as if in surrender. “Sorry, I don’t remember who you are.”

His eyes grew suddenly hard and he pulled back as if she had slapped him. “And why would you?” he said with a short laugh.

Who was he? And why did she feel they had some history? Some connection? And how come he seemed angry with her?

“So are we going back to your stupid ranch, Cody?” Bonnie’s imperious voice rang out down the street as the man named Cody jerked his gaze away from Vivienne’s.

“Just get into the truck,” he ordered. “We’re leaving right now.”

As he walked away, his long legs eating up the distance between him and the young girl, the mention of his name teased recollection out of Vivienne’s past. And her face flushed as the memory returned.

It was years ago. When she was still in high school. She had been hanging around after school with her friends, tossing her long blond hair in an effort to gain the attention of the basketball player who had snagged her interest.

Until a tall, lanky senior tapped her lightly on the shoulder, asking if he could talk to her. She turned to him, puzzled as to what he could want.

Working his cowboy hat in his hands as he stood in front of her, Cody Jameson stumbled out a halting request for a date.

Normally, if a senior asked a sophomore to go out, the answer would be an automatic yes. But Vivienne remembered looking at the frayed collar of his shirt and the patch on his faded blue jeans. While the other guys in school all wore loose shirts open over T-shirts, baggy pants and sneakers, Cody still wore narrow blue jeans, shirts with snaps and cowboy boots.

And while Cody wasn’t hard on the eyes and seemed like a decent guy, a cowboy from Clayton, Colorado, had never figured in Vivienne’s glittering future in the Big Apple.

Hearing her friends giggling at Cody’s stumbling invitation didn’t help the situation. Though she kind of liked Cody, there was no way she could accept his date in front of them. They’d tease her forever. So she laughed, as well, just to show her friends he didn’t matter, and turned him down flat.

After that she saw him from time to time. Once she had hoped to approach him, to apologize, but she never worked up the nerve.

After graduation, he disappeared to his uncle Ted’s ranch, where he lived and worked. And when she graduated a few years later, she hightailed it out of Clayton and never gave him a second thought.

Until now.

Cody Jameson had filled out and grown up, she thought, watching as he pulled his cowboy hat lower on his head before yanking open the truck door for Bonnie, his broad shoulders straining at his shirt.

But he was still a cowboy and she was a city girl, albeit transplanted to Clayton. Just for a while, she reminded herself as she pushed the old memories and history aside. I just have to stay long enough to fulfill the terms of the will. That’s all.

And for now her biggest concern involved getting a job. Though Brooke liked having her live in the same house and hadn’t pushed her older sister to work, Vivienne was too used to pulling her weight. She wanted to be able to pay her share of the bills.

Country music and conversation washed over her as she stepped inside the diner. Kylie Jones, recently engaged to Vivienne’s brother Zach, stood by a table of patrons, hands on her hips, her brown ponytail bobbing as she laughed at one of the jokes from the group of old men hunched over the table.

Two stools at the counter were empty, so she walked over to one and sat down.

Then Kylie saw Vivienne and scurried over, grinning. “Welcome back! How was Denver? Busy?”

“Compared to New York, no. But it was fun.” She’d gone to Denver to connect with an old friend she’d gone to school with and to give herself some breathing space.

Three months ago her life was on a completely different track. A tiny apartment in New York City. Sous chef in a trendy and up-and-coming restaurant and a boss who was encouraging, fun to work with and very attractive. They had dated a few times. During their last date they had shared hopes and dreams and whispered promises of a future.

When news came of the will and the inheritance, Vivienne wasn’t sure she wanted to give up what she had—especially when the money from Grandpa Clayton had so many strings attached. One of which was moving back to Clayton for a year.

Then, shortly after she’d come back from her grandfather’s funeral, her boss told her they weren’t compatible. Then he quit.

Vivienne’s heart was broken. On top of all of this, the new chef was demanding and hypercritical of everything Vivienne did. She began doubting her skills and grew increasingly tentative. Five weeks ago she made a drastic mistake on a menu for a small, exclusive wedding at the restaurant.

And it cost Vivienne her job.

Now she was back in Clayton. No job. No money saved up. No boyfriend.

Back where she started. Looking for work and banking on a maybe.

Kylie grabbed a menu from the old cash register and poked her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s an empty space in the back if you prefer to sit there. I have to bus it yet—”

“Sorry, Kylie, I’m not here to eat. I’m, um … well … looking for a job.”

A frown wrinkled Kylie’s forehead. “A job? But you’re getting—”

Vivienne held up a manicured hand, forestalling the next statement. As Zach’s fiancée, Kylie would know about the inheritance their grandfather, George Clayton Senior, had given to each of his six grandchildren. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money no matter where you came from. And the 500 acres of land was a bonus, as well. But all of this would only come to each of them if all six of the cousins showed up by Christmas and then stayed around Clayton for a year.

Trouble was, none of the cousins knew if the sixth, Lucas, would show up in time, if at all. And if she stuck around Clayton for a year, Vivienne still had to find a way to pay off school debt and a credit card she had maxed out while she worked in New York.

“You know I won’t get the money unless we all stick around for an entire year,” she said with a determined note in her voice. “And until then I still need to eat and pay bills. So I thought I’d see if you had any openings.”

Kylie ran a thumbnail along the edge of the menu, biting her lower lip. “We really don’t need a waitress,” she said slowly.

“I was thinking of the cooking part.”

This netted her another frown from Kylie as she glanced over her shoulder. Vivienne followed her gaze and caught sight of Jerome’s lanky frame through the pass-through window as he flipped a burger on the grill, the sizzle of grease and the smell wafting over her at the same time.

Burgers? Really?

Don’t be a snob. You need work.

“Um, I’m not sure Gerald or Jerome need any help.” Kylie worried at her lower lip, wearing away the pink lipstick she had been wearing. “You’ll have to talk to Erin about that.”

“Who wants to talk to me?” A woman with red hair and a pencil stuck behind her ear showed up at the cash register beside the seat on which Vivienne had perched. The register chimed as she rang up a total and pulled the bill out of the top.

“I do.” Vivienne tossed a glance at an old cowboy limping toward the counter. She had to hurry. Ted Jameson, Cody Jameson’s uncle, may walk slow, but she remembered all too well that anything he found out spread through town faster than a wildfire. “I was wondering if you need a cook.”

Erin shot her a frown, then grinned as she glanced from Kylie to Vivienne. “This is a joke, right?”

Vivienne squirmed. “No. I’m serious. I need a job.”

“But goodness, girl. You’re a Cordon Bleu–trained chef. And you’re getting your inheritance.”

Vivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Who in town didn’t know about her grandfather’s will?

Kylie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “She only gets the money if all the cousins stick around for a year.”

Erin nodded, understanding. Then she gave Vivienne an apologetic look. “Sorry, hon. I’ve got nothing. Jerome and Gerald don’t really need any help.”

“I can do pies,” she offered. “And my mousse cake is so light, it would just float in here.”

Erin scratched the side of her head with her index finger. “Arabella does most of my dessert and pastries.”

So much for that idea. Vivienne had never thought her own cousin would end up being her competition for work.

“What about working for the resorts over the pass?” Erin suggested, brightening.

“I don’t—”

“Her brother Zach would never let her do that,” Kylie interjected with a firm shake of her head. “Not after that horrible accident he had to deal with on the road up there. And winter is coming, so the roads would be really bad.”

Erin folded the bill she had just printed off.

“Even if she applied and got a job, he’d talk her out of it,” Kylie continued, crossing her arms over her chest in a decisive manner, as if she and her fiancée were on the same page.

“So she can’t work there,” Erin replied.

I’m right here, Vivienne felt like saying as their talk slipped past her.

“Who can’t work where?” Ted Jameson had reached the counter at the same time Erin and Kylie had reached their conclusion. His blue eyes looked all the brighter against his tanned skin. A fine network of white lines radiating from his eyes deepened as he frowned down at her. A battered straw cowboy hat sat askew on his head, and the grin he gave her had a few gaps.

“Vivienne—” Erin said.

“—Can’t cook at the resorts over the pass,” Kylie finished.

“You can’t cook?” Ted asked, leaning to one side to pull his wallet out of the back pocket of a pair of blue jeans shiny with grime. Vivienne guessed they hadn’t been washed in months.

Mental note. Don’t sit in any booth Ted has just sat in.

“I thought you liked to cook,” he continued. “Thought you were some fancy chef?”

“That’s right,” Vivienne said, struggling to keep the haughty edge out of her voice. “I trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.”

Ted eased a few bills out of a wallet thick with cash. “Well, I suppose that means something to somebody.”

“It’s a very famous cooking school,” Kylie explained. “Gourmet cooking, in fact.”

“Gourmet, you say?” He snickered as he shoved his wallet in his back pocket. “Hey. That rhymes. I’m a poet.”

“And you didn’t know it,” Kylie finished for him with a happy grin.

“So you really know your way around a kitchen?” Ted asked, snagging a toothpick out of the miniature wooden barrel sitting beside the cash register.

“Yes, I do. I cook very well.” This was said with a defensive tone. Very well was not a phrase to be used by a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu. Graduates of that famous cooking school were superb. Amazing. Par excellence.

But her confidence had been shaken in the past month. How could things have gone so wrong with the wedding menu? She never had any doubts about her cooking.

Don’t go there. That’s over. Stick around long enough to get your inheritance. Then you can go back to New York with your head held high and your bank account flush. Then you can start your own restaurant and prove your old boss wrong.

“And you need a job?”

“Yes. I do.”

Ted looked her up and down, as he unwrapped the toothpick. Vivienne felt like he was assessing her as he would a prize stud or a bull.

“You look like you have an idea,” Kylie prodded.

A few more people came up behind Ted to pay their bills. The entry grew crowded.

Ted angled his head to the door as he tucked the toothpick in his mouth. “Let’s chat outside,” he said to Vivienne.

So she followed Ted across the street to the park, where he sat down on a picnic bench. Vivienne glanced down at the seat, trying not to make a face at the bird droppings liberally decorating the bench. She found a clear spot on the edge and perched there, hoping she didn’t come into contact with any other questionable material.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, crossing her long legs and flipping her long hair back over her shoulder.

“We’ll consider this part of your interview,” Ted said, resting his elbows on the rough wood of the table.

“Interview?”

“Yep. If it’s a cooking job you’re looking for, we could sure use you up at the Circle C.”

“But that’s a ranch,” Vivienne said, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweater. The sun had drifted behind a cloud and a breeze had picked up, tossing bright yellow leaves around their table, swinging the seats on the swings of the playground beside them. “I’m a gourmet chef.”

“Well, yeah. I get that.” The toothpick in his mouth migrated from one side to the other.

“I do gourmet cooking for high-end restaurants.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Ted leaned closer, his gnarled hands folded together, his eyes twinkling at her. “But we need a cook, and from what I hear, you need a cooking job.”

Vivienne chewed her lip, her eyes flicking down the street to the grocery store across from the Cowboy Café and the drugstore beside it. She doubted either place was hiring.

The squeaking of the chains from the swings created a melancholy counterpoint to her reality. No job, no skills other than kitchen ones.

She glanced back at Ted, wondering what Cody would think of this setup. “Do you think I would get the job if I applied?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’d get the job.”

“But shouldn’t I do a test meal first?”

“If that’s what you want.” Ted gave her an encouraging grin.

Even as she turned the idea over in her head, Vivienne couldn’t stop her mind from moving ahead. Sure, it was cowboys she would be feeding, but surely she didn’t have to serve steak and biscuits every day? She could still bring her own brand of cooking to her job. Keep her skills sharp.

“So do I bring my own ingredients? Or is the kitchen fully stocked?” she asked.

“Honey, you bring what you think you’ll need and I’ll make sure the kitchen is clean and ready for you.”

Vivienne couldn’t help another look at the grime on the elbows of his shirt, the bits of mud and straw still clinging to his worn cowboy boots.

She made a note to bring her own pail and disinfectant.

“I guess I can show up tomorrow,” she said.

“Sounds good.” He pressed his hands against the top of the table to get up. “Now I gotta check in on my little girl, Karlee. She works at Hair Today, you know.” He pointed a crooked finger at Vivienne’s hair. “She could get you set up with a whole new look. She’s good.”

Vivienne nodded, then held her hand up to stop him. “So just to clarify. I head down Railroad Avenue to get to the Circle C?”

Ted frowned. “You’ve never been there before?”

She shook her head.

“Really.” He rubbed his forefinger alongside his nose in a gesture of puzzlement. “I thought for sure …” He flapped his hand again. “But, yeah, that’s right.” He pulled a tattered agenda out of his pocket, licked his finger and flicked through the pages. Then he ripped out an empty piece of paper edged with grease. “I’ll give you the directions, just in case.” He sketched a map with the stub of a pencil.

“And here’s where the cookhouse is,” Ted said, drawing an arrow, too.

“And how will I know which one is the cookhouse?”

“It’s the long, skinny building. The one with the most worn path to it,” he said with a chuckle. “Cowboys love their grub.”

He gave her the map and she folded it carefully over, trying to avoid the grease stains. “So I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“You bet.” He tipped his hat to her, then eased away from the table. He shook her hand, gave her another gap-toothed grin, then limped across the grass to the other side of the park where Hair Today was located.

Vivienne watched him go, shivering as another breeze created a swirl of orange and yellow leaves around the table. Fall was definitely creeping up, bringing a hint of cold with it. Could she really spend a winter in Clayton stuck out on a ranch in the boonies?

She glanced down at the map in her hand, misgivings eroding her decision.

But what was her alternative? Pound the few streets of town looking for something—anything—to pay her living expenses and her debts? Move back to New York and lose a chance at starting her own restaurant with the money from the inheritance?

But what if Lucas didn’t show up in time? Their grandfather’s will clearly stipulated that they all had to be around for them all to get their money. Would she be making a wrong career move for nothing?

She shook her head, dislodging her second thoughts. This was an opportunity to keep her cooking skills sharp and make some money.

And for now, she had no other choice.

“So you found us another cook?” Cody hung the halters on the pegs from the tack shed, glancing over his shoulder at Ted. “I’m impressed.”

His uncle nodded, gnawing at his toothpick. “Working on lunch in the cookhouse as we speak.”

Relief surged through him. “That’s great. I know the hands have been whining about the food.”

“Delores’s grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and supper only get a man so far,” Ted said.

“At least it’s food.” Cody had been fielding steady complaints about the grub ever since the last cook got fired for just about killing the hands with food poisoning. He’d managed to rope Delores, a hired hand’s wife, into cooking. She claimed the only thing she made was reservations. Or grilled cheese sandwiches. So that’s what they’d been eating. “So who did you find?”

“A surprise,” Ted said with a grin Cody didn’t trust.

“You know I don’t like surprises. Just tell me. Clayton’s not that big.” He stopped and put his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Is it Arabella? Did you talk her into coming?” He could hardly believe his luck. Just thinking about Arabella’s pies and pastries got his mouth watering.

Ted angled him an “Are you kidding” look as he limped toward the cook shack. “Woman’s got triplets and takes care of that Jasmine girl. As if she’d have time to come out and cook for us.”

“So who did you get? Please don’t tell me you listened to Jonathan and got Vivienne Clayton to come and cook.”

Ted said nothing. Instead he opened the door of the cook shack with a flourish. Cody stepped inside.

And stared in disbelief as the very person he had warned his uncle against now stood in his kitchen.

Vivienne wore a tall chef’s hat and a white smock and apron. She stood at the stove, her back to them, stirring something smelling, for lack of a better word, weird.

What kind of joke was Ted playing? He yanked his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. He didn’t have time for this kind of malarkey. Too many things on the go and hired hands who grew more grumbly with each grilled cheese sandwich they had to choke down.

Vivienne wiped her hands on a cloth lying beside the stove and gave Cody a quick smile, a dimple flashing in one cheek. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity,” she said, holding out her hand.

Under that goofy looking hat, her hair was pulled back in a shining ponytail, low on her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and her cheekbones as beautiful as ever.

She looked even more amazing than she had in high school.

He caught himself, frustrated with how easily she brought back feelings he thought he’d dealt with years ago.

You’re not some dumb, love-struck senior anymore. You’ve lost a wife and—

He stopped his thoughts there. He couldn’t go to that dark place. Not now. Not ever.

“What is going on here?” he said, giving her hand a perfunctory shake. He shot an angry glance at Ted, who lifted his shoulders in a vague shrug.

“I’d like to go over the menu with you, to see what you and your uncle think of my choices,” Vivienne said, gesturing toward the stove. She pulled off her hat and whipped off the smock to reveal a black dress with no sleeves and some kind of shiny brooch pinned to one shoulder. “I hoped to have everything ready for my presentation, but you came earlier than I had anticipated.”

He didn’t want to look at her. “Menu?”

“Yes. For my test meal?”

“Test meal?” He felt like slapping himself on the head. He sounded like some robotic moron.

“Pauley Clayton doesn’t carry much of what I needed in the grocery store, but the best chefs can and do improvise.” She gave a quick laugh, her eyes flicking from him to Ted.

“I thought we could start with a spinach salad with spiced walnuts and pears and a light vinaigrette followed by glazed pears and a filet mignon with red wine tarragon sauce. I’d like to serve the filet with a reduction made from the pears, but only if you agree.” Cody felt bombarded by words and terms he knew nothing about.

Which made him feel stupid.

Which, in turn, made him angry, mostly because it was Vivienne Clayton he felt stupid in front of.

“That sounds like something for a restaurant, not cowboys,” he said.

Vivienne lifted her shoulder in a vague shrug. “Cowboys can enjoy gourmet cooking, too.”

“Gourmet? Not likely.”

Ted grabbed him and gave him a half turn. “You’d sooner eat grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and supper?” he asked, turning, as well, so his back was to Vivienne and he was facing Cody.

“I’d sooner eat ordinary food.”

Ted yanked on his arm to pull him closer. “We could use some decent food here,” he muttered. “I think we should hire her.”

Before Cody could reply, Vivienne handed him and Ted each a plate with half a pear sitting on a leaf of lettuce, and the whole business was sprinkled with nuts.

“Why don’t you give this a taste and tell me what you think,” Vivienne was saying, “and I’ll get the steak ready.”

Cody looked from the pear all fancied up to Vivienne. Gold hoops hung from her ears, and her eyes had that smudgy look Bonnie was always trying to create with endless pots of makeup and tubes of mascara.

She looked exactly like she did in high school. Fancy. Unapproachable. The epitome of the same city girl Tabitha, his wife, had been. Someone who couldn’t live out here.

His heart hardened at the memory. He wasn’t going there again. Girls like Tabitha and Vivienne didn’t belong on a ranch. They couldn’t handle the isolation and the stress.

“Sorry you wasted your time coming, Miss Clayton,” Cody said, clenching the brim of his battered cowboy hat. “But we’re not hiring you.”

Then he spun around on one booted heel and left.

Chapter Two

Not hiring her?

He hadn’t even given her a decent chance.

“Cody. Hold on,” Ted called out.

Vivienne pressed her hands together, trying to keep the panic at bay.

Cody stopped and slowly turned around, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. Vivienne stifled the tiny frisson of fear at his belligerent look as she took a long breath.

“We need a cook,” Ted said.

“I need someone who can do beans, beef and biscuits. Not … that.” He waved a dismissive hand at the pears that, Vivienne thought, had turned out very well considering the number of ingredients she’d had to improvise on.

She wanted to be upset with Cody’s dismissive attitude, but she couldn’t.

Because after speaking with Ted, on a whim, she walked around town talking to the various businesses. No one was hiring. Not the flower shop. Not Hair Today, the only beauty salon in town. Not the post office or any of the schools. She had even, out of desperation, tried the feed supply store, but Gene Jones, the proprietor, wasn’t looking for help either.

The town of Clayton had been dying a slow death even when she lived there. Now, even with the reopening of the Lucky Lady Silver Mine, it was worse. This job was her only chance at making some money while she waited for the inheritance.

Which will only come through if Lucas shows up.

She smothered the errant thought. Lucas had been informed of what was at stake. He would show up.

Ted turned to her and set his hands on his hips. “This is real nice, but would you be willing to cook simpler food?”

Vivienne set the pear down, disappointment vying with practicality. “It’s not what I was trained to do.”

“But you can do that,” Ted insisted.

“I’m a professional chef …” As her words faded off, so did her anticipation at the thought of this job. Gourmet cooking was what she loved. What she was best at. “I suppose I could do what was required of me,” she continued.

Cody pulled on his chin with one hand as if this answer didn’t satisfy him either. “I’m still not sure—”

“She can go over the menus with us and make sure we think it’s okay,” Ted insisted.

Cody fiddled with his hat, his teeth working at one corner of his mouth. “I don’t think she’s the right person for the job.”

“We got no one else,” Ted insisted. “We kind of need her.”

That Ted had to argue Cody into hiring her raised Vivienne’s ire. Sure she wasn’t a beans-and-bacon cook, but she was, as she had pointed out to Ted, a professional cook. And the thought that someone didn’t want to hire her made her angry.

And, perversely, made her want the job even more.

“I’d like a chance,” she said quietly.

Vivienne watched Cody’s face, trying to get a read on where he was going. Then he looked at her, and as their gazes meshed Vivienne caught a glimpse of the young man who had asked her out all those years ago. Then his features tightened and any trace of that Cody Jameson disappeared, replaced by this hard-looking, uncompromising man.

“We need someone who isn’t afraid of hard work,” he said, his voice gruff as he addressed her. “We need someone who can live out on a ranch for weeks at a time and not think they’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Which, as far as Vivienne was concerned, was exactly where they were. But she sensed from the intensity in Cody’s voice that her comment wouldn’t be welcome.

“I need someone who can live out here when storms blow into town and cut us off from civilization for days at a time,” Cody continued. “Do you think you could do that?” His voice had taken on a puzzling, belligerent tone, but even as she held his stern gaze she tried not to wince at the thought of being stranded up here.

“I … think I could do it.” She lifted her chin and injected a note of steel in her voice. “I know I can.”

It was only a year, she reminded herself, even as her knocking heart belied her confident tone. Three hundred and sixty-five days out here was a small price to pay for a quarter of a million dollars. And maybe more, once she sold the land that was part of the inheritance.

After that, New York and her new restaurant.

Keep your eye on the prize, she reminded herself. This is only a necessary detour.

Cody’s gaze locked with hers, his hazel eyes probing, as if trying to find a weakness. She held him look for look, but as she did, her heart did a little unexpected flutter at his attention. She swallowed, willing the emotion away.

He’s good-looking. It’s a normal reaction, she reminded herself, forcing herself to keep holding his gaze.

He’s going to be your boss.

“No one else wants to live out here,” Ted said. “I think we should hire her.”

Vivienne caught the angry look Cody shot his uncle. Obviously, Mr. Jameson wasn’t happy with Ted.

“I’m okay with this,” Vivienne said, stilling the threatening note of panic. She’d just have to get creative. Maybe take out a loan to pay off her other debts. Sell some stuff. Live cheap.

“Look, Cody, you make the decision. You know where I stand. I’ll be out at the horse pen,” Ted said. He dropped his hat back on his head and spun on his heel.

After he left, Cody shoved one hand through his thick brown hair and blew out a sigh.

“We’re not looking for gourmet cooking or anything even close to that. I’m just looking for—”

“Someone who can do beans and biscuits.” Vivienne gave him a quick smile to counteract the faintly bitter note in her voice. “I get that.” She held her head high. She needed this job, but she wasn’t begging.

Cody dragged his hand over his chin, still holding her gaze as if testing her.

“It’s not just that,” he said, his voice grim. “Like I said, it’s a hard life out here. And if I think you can’t hack it, you’re down the road. I’m not risking anyone’s well-being again.”

She wondered what he meant by “again,” but before she could ask, he continued. “You got the job, okay?” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand at the food she had so carefully prepared. “Just don’t get carried away with that fancy stuff.”

Don’t get angry. Just smile and nod. You’ve got work for now.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to keep the prim tone out of her voice. “You won’t be sorry.”

Cody’s glance ticked over her hair, her dress and her high-heeled shoes that she had slipped on before he came. All in an effort to impress a boss who, it seemed, wasn’t impressed.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said grimly.

Then the door of the cookhouse burst open and the young girl Vivienne had seen Cody with in town launched herself into the room. Cody’s head snapped around and Vivienne saw a look of frustration and … was that fear? … flit across his face.

“Where’s my makeup?” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Cody’s chest. “What did you do with it?”

“Why do you think I did anything with it?” Cody asked, dropping his hat back on his head and tugging the brim down.

“I know you hate it when I wear makeup.” The girl’s voice grew even more shrill, but then her eyes shifted past Cody. She frowned, pointing a crimson-tipped finger at Vivienne, suddenly distracted by her presence. “Isn’t that the woman you were talking to at the diner? Why is she here?”

Cody’s broad shoulders lifted in a sigh as he clenched his fists. “This is Vivienne Clayton. Vivienne, this is my little sister, Bonnie.”

Bonnie’s heavily made-up eyes narrowed and Vivienne understood Cody’s difficulties with his sister’s beauty regimen. The girl could use a lighter hand with the eyeliner and the mascara. And those bloodred lips. Way too harsh for her coloring and age.

“Vivienne Clayton?” Bonnie took a step closer, her frown deepening. “Are you related to all those Claytons who are coming back to town just for the money?”

Vivienne smiled, choosing to ignore her insult. “I’m George Clayton’s granddaughter, yes. And George Junior and Marion were my parents.”

“Uncle Ted said you were from New York,” Bonnie added, her dark-ringed eyes holding hers. Then Bonnie looked down at Vivienne’s shoes and her eyes grew wide. “The soles of your shoes. They’re red. Are they made by—”

“Christian Louboutin? Yes.” She held up her foot, angling it so Bonnie could see the signature red leather soles on her black pumps. “I bought them at Saks.” They had cost her a ridiculous amount of money, but they were her first purchase with her first paycheck. And a down payment on a promise she’d made to herself to bury her country roots deep in her past. She was now a New Yorker. And the shoes told people she was going somewhere, which was all the way to the top of her profession.

Bonnie’s face beamed at the sight. “Seriously?” she breathed. “You’ve shopped at Saks?”

“Yes. And Bergdorf Goodman.” Never bought anything there, but Bonnie didn’t need to know that. Now she was obviously impressed and Vivienne felt the little bit of her self-worth, chipped away by Cody’s easy dismissal of her work, restored.

“That supposed to mean something?” Cody asked.

Bonnie looked Vivienne over more carefully. “Do you do your own makeup?”

“Of course I do.”

“Could you teach me?”

“Miss Clayton is here to work,” Cody snapped. “She won’t have time to fool around with girlie stuff like makeup.”

Bonnie pushed out a heavy sigh, then turned and stomped out of the cookhouse. As she left, Cody turned back to Vivienne. “Just so you know, I’d prefer it if you keep your distance from my sister.”

Annoyance vibrated through her. “I realize I’m here to work, but may I ask why?”

Cody adjusted his hat on his head, then he looked down at her, his eyes narrowed again. “My sister is only fourteen, and she is my responsibility while my parents are overseas. I take that responsibility seriously. I don’t want her turning out … I don’t want her getting all flighty and full of highfalutin ideas.”

Vivienne’s spine stiffened so quickly that she was surprised she didn’t hear a snap. “And you think I’ll give her those highfalutin ideas?” The chill in her voice was a mistake, but she resented the implication that she would be a bad influence on his little sister.

Cody gave a pointed glance at the shoes she had recently shown off. “Living out on the ranch here is hard, and it’s not for prissy city girls.”

And before she could protest that comment, he strode out of the cookhouse, the echo of his booted feet on the wooden floor underlining his comment.

As the door shut behind him, relief mixed with puzzlement drifted through her.

She got the job. Not the gourmet cooking job she’d hoped to get, but a job nonetheless.

As to living out here with Cody Jameson watching her every move?

It would work, she told herself, smoothing her sweaty palms over her skirt. She would make it work.

Her gaze flicked to the window over the large double sinks. Through the fly-specked glass she saw pastures, then hills, then mountains.

And not a house, or a road or any other sign of civilization. She shivered again, wondering if she had what it took to stay out here.

“I still can’t believe my big sister will be living out on a ranch with cows and horses and no department store within a hundred-mile radius.” Brooke dropped another empty suitcase on the pink-and-white checked quilt and unzipped it, her long blond hair swinging over her cheeks. She flashed Vivienne a cheeky grin, her dark blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Sure you won’t suffer from shopping withdrawal?”

Vivienne glanced around the bedroom of their family home remembering pillow fights between her, Brooke and Zach. She thought of the time Zach had found a snake and threatened to put it in her bed. She smiled as she rolled up a pair of socks. Since coming home, she’d been assailed by memories, many of them happy. Maybe being back in Clayton wouldn’t be so bad. She turned her attention to Brooke and her skepticism. “Give me some credit, sis. I grew up in this town.”

“And when you weren’t at Hair Today buying yet another bottle of hair product, you were forever grazing through old fashion magazines Mrs. Donalda brought into the library specially for you.” Brooke held up a pair of distressed blue jeans. “I can’t imagine what Cody would think about these.”

“I highly doubt he would even notice. They’re just blue jeans.”

Brooke found the heavy cardboard price tag still dangling from a leather string attached to the button and whistled. “I’ve paid this much to put tires on my car.”

“They are renowned for their good fit and quality.” Vivienne grabbed the offending pants from her sister, curbing a surge of guilt at how much she had paid for them. She bought them on a self-indulgent pity splurge. After a particularly brutal dressing-down from her new boss, which came on the heels of her boyfriend breaking up with her because, in his words, “We are on different levels,” whatever that meant. “And I wouldn’t have bought them if I knew I’d be out of work a week later.”

“Still, I never thought I’d see the day that someone who would pitch a fit if she broke a nail would end up cooking on a ranch in Clayton.”

“I’m hoping I’m a little older and wiser now,” Vivienne said, closing the suitcase and zipping it shut.

“With a lot more clothes and makeup.” Brooke pulled up the handle for the suitcase and grabbed Vivienne’s oversize cosmetic bag.

“Speaking of makeup, what’s with Cody and his little sister?” Vivienne followed her sister out of the bedroom, bumping the cases down the narrow stairs.

“Okay, that leap in logic makes perfect sense,” Brooke joked.

“Work with me, sis. Bonnie asked me to help her with makeup and I thought Cody was going to have a coronary. He told me specifically to stay away from her.” Vivienne grunted as she got the last suitcase to the bottom of the stairs. “I get the impression he thinks I’m a bad influence.”

Brooke shrugged as she rolled the suitcase through the living room. “From what I hear, Cody is pretty protective of his little sister, though I’m not sure why he would think you’re a bad influence.” She shot a mischievous glance over her shoulder. “Unless you’ve picked up some evil vices in New York or Paris I’ve never known about.”

Vivienne was about to give her sister a snippy retort, but the front door burst open and a little boy came toddling through, his little feet pumping as he headed directly to Brooke. He had a baseball cap on backward and his T-shirt was stained with chocolate, as was his ear-to-ear grin.

“Book. Book,” he babbled, reaching up for her.

“A.J., stop running,” she heard a deep voice call out from behind him.

Brooke’s face softened as she let go of her sister’s suitcase and bent over to pick up the son of her now-fiancé.

Gabe Wesson stepped into the house and, without breaking stride, walked straight to Brooke.

Vivienne felt a twinge of envy as she watched this tall, smiling man rest his hand on her sister’s shoulder, then bend over and brush a light kiss over her mouth. Though she hadn’t been around when Brooke and Gabe started dating, it hadn’t been difficult to hear the change in her sister’s voice whenever she called. And when she met Gabe and his little boy, A.J., ten days ago when she moved back into the old frame house she and her siblings had grown up in, she understood why.

A.J., now secure in Brooke’s arms, batted his father’s face with one chubby hand, his grin even wider.

Gabe dragged his attention away from Brooke and A.J. and frowned as he saw the suitcases surrounding the two of them. “So who’s moving out?”

“Vivienne got a job on the Circle C. Working as a cook.” Brooke shifted A.J. in her arms, giving him a quick hug.

Gabe’s one eyebrow lifted in disbelief. “Really?” he drawled, his incredulous tone telegraphing his opinion of that situation.

“What? You think I can’t do that?” Vivienne asked, planting a hand on her hip.

Gabe raised his hand. “Sorry. Wasn’t implying anything. It’s just you lived in New York, and I can’t see you cooking on a ranch—”

Brooke placed a fingertip on his lips. “And you should stop now,” she said with a wry smile.

“A good chef can adapt the menu to the patrons,” Vivienne said, grabbing a suitcase handle in each hand and lifting her chin in defiance.

“Of course you can,” Gabe said with a placating tone, reaching for the other suitcases. “And it looks like you’re well equipped to head into the fray.” He grunted as he dragged the suitcases down the stairs, Brooke and A.J. right behind. Vivienne brought up the rear, then groaned as a deputy sheriff’s car pulled up in front of hers. Great. Just what she needed. More comments from yet another family member.

Zach Clayton eased himself out of the car, and when he saw Gabe toting the suitcases, he frowned.

“Who’s going on safari?” he said, sauntering toward them.

“If I have to hear one more comment about how many suitcases I’ve packed or doubts about how I’ll survive on that ranch, I’m hitting somebody,” Vivienne muttered, her suitcase bumping over the sidewalk to the waiting car.

“No hitting,” A.J. cried out, sounding alarmed.

Brooke patted his back soothingly. “Aunty Vivienne was just teasing, honey.” She shot her a questioning glance. “Weren’t you?”

“Barely.”

“So, my little sis is going to be a ranch cook,” Zach said as he helped Gabe heave one of her heavier suitcases into the trunk of her car. “Great advertisement for that fancy cooking school you went to.”

Vivienne ignored him as she opened the back door of her car and laid her smaller suitcases inside. “I like how everyone is so confident of my abilities and so supportive of my decision to actually make some money while I’m waiting for Grandpa’s money to come through,” she snapped as she slammed the car door shut. “I’d like to think it shouldn’t be hard to feed a bunch of cowboys. I’m not the prima donna everyone seems to think I am.”

She spun around and faced a sheepish-looking Zach and equally embarrassed Gabe.

“Sorry, sis,” Zach said, with a light shrug. “Just having some fun with you. We know you’re an amazing cook, and that’s why it seems like a stretch to see you working out there.”

Vivienne knew that and she knew she was being touchy. She also knew her lack of confidence was tied up in the reason she was fired from her previous job.

“Well, I could be working at the resorts—”

Zach held up a hand. “Not a chance, girl. That pass over the mountains to get there is too dangerous.”

In spite of her pique with her family, Vivienne felt a flush of affection at her brother’s protectiveness. She knew it was because he cared, and it had been a while since she’d had that.

“Anyhow, this is what I chose to do,” she said, tempering her stern tone with a smile. “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all again.”

Zach pushed his hat back on his head and heaved out a sigh. “That’s one of the other reasons I came here. I still haven’t heard anything more from that private investigator I hired to find out what’s happening with Lucas. He said he would let me know if I should send in help, but nothing. I wish I knew what to do.”

“Our mother would say that we should pray,” Vivienne said with a melancholy tone, leaning back against the car. She hadn’t prayed in years. Not since she left Clayton. As far as she was concerned, God had died when her mother had. She hadn’t talked to Him since.

“I have been,” Brooke said, cuddling A.J. close as if to protect him from the trouble Lucas was involved in. The information the family had received so far was that their cousin was trying to rescue a child orphaned by a drug gang deep in the Everglades. The bits of information were confusing and frightening and no one knew what they could or should do. Lucas wasn’t in direct contact with any of them.

“If I don’t hear anything in the next week or so, I’ll have to make a decision about getting the police in Florida involved,” Zach said, heaving a heavy sigh.

Vivienne wished she knew what to do to help her brother and Lucas. Zach had always been the one to take care of her and Brooke. Their father, distracted by work and the ongoing feud with his uncle Samuel’s side of the family, was an absent father. And when he died in a car accident that also killed his brother—their uncle Vern—Zach had taken the role of protector to Vivienne and Brooke. It had made him older than his years, but it had also brought the three very close.

“Should I take this job then?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “Or should I stay around to help find Lucas?”

Zach gave her a tight smile and shook his head. “There’s not much any of us can do, sis. So just go and work. We’ll keep you informed.”

“I can come back whenever you need me,” she said. She suspected that Cody Jameson might not mind if she decided to quit. He seemed reluctant enough to hire her.

Zach patted her shoulder. “We’ll keep in touch. Cook good at that ranch and make us Claytons proud,” he said, giving her a quick, hard hug.

The various paraphernalia of his police belt dug into her waist as she hugged him back, its heft and weight a grim reminder of Zach’s ongoing responsibilities as deputy sheriff of the town.

Then he strode back to his car and was gone.

Vivienne watched him go, then turned to her sister and Gabe. “I should leave, as well.” She hugged her sister and gave A.J.’s cheek a quick stroke. “Love you, little guy.”

“You’ll stay in touch?” Brooke asked, shifting A.J. to her other hip like a seasoned mother. She had grown up quickly in the past few months, Vivienne thought. Her little sister no longer.

“I’ll be back for groceries sometime or other,” Vivienne assured her. “I’ll contact you then. Find out what’s happening with Mei and Lucas.”

Brooke gave her another hug, Gabe flashed her a quick smile, and then Vivienne was in her car and pulling away from the curb. In her rearview mirror, she saw Gabe drop his arm around Brooke’s shoulder and pull her close. The domestic scene tugged at her heart, and again Vivienne felt a surge of envy blended with joy for her sister’s happiness.

Would she ever find what Brooke and Gabe seemed to have?

Chapter Three

“Where are you going?” Cody called out to his newest hired hand, Bryce, as he walked toward the cookhouse. “Your horse needs to be brushed yet.”

The young boy turned and then dropped his gloved hands on his narrow hips, brown hair hanging in his eyes. “I’m beat. I’m hungry and tired from riding all day. My horse is fine.”

And with that he spun around, skinny arms pumping as he ran off.

Cody pressed his lips together, sending up a quick prayer for patience, which was immediately followed by guilt. Lately his prayers were the “Help me, help me” kind sent up in a rush between getting the horses ready for the roundup, getting the last batches of hay hauled and trying to keep his sister from driving him crazy. He hadn’t had time for proper devotions in weeks. He just prayed God understood.

Cody sighed as he dismounted, his own legs stiff from riding all day. He should insist the boy do things the right way, but he was new and Cody didn’t have the energy to follow through.

Not after spending almost twelve hours in the saddle sorting through the first batch of cows and calves and getting them ready to move in a couple of weeks.

“Why’s Bryce heading for grub?” Ted grunted as he swung his leg over the saddle. “Didn’t see him brush his horse down.”

“He says he’s tired.”

“Aren’t we all? And you’ve been working since five o’clock. Kid needs an attitude adjustment.”

“He’s willing to live out here for ten days at a time, so I put up with him.” Cody led his and Bryce’s horse to the tack shed, the slow thud of the horses’ hooves telegraphing their own weariness.

“And hang out with spineless Les Clayton and that no-account Billy Dean Harris when he’s not working.”

Which made Cody think of another Clayton now inhabiting the place. Vivienne had come to the ranch last night, dragging enough suitcases to outfit every woman in town. But he hadn’t had time to talk to her. Instead he got Cade, her cousin on the other side of the Clayton family, to help her.

“As long as Bryce is working for me when he’s here, I can’t tell him who to hang out with,” Cody replied.

“Food smells good,” Ted exalted as he pulled the halter off his horse. “Wonder what Vivienne whipped up for supper. Bet it’s a whole lot better than grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“She better not be making some fancy stuff we can’t choke down” was all Cody said, jerking on the saddle’s cinch. He still felt like he’d been railroaded into hiring Vivienne. And Ted’s constant singing of her praises all day didn’t help either. It was annoying.

“Didn’t see you for breakfast.” Uncle Ted let his horse spit out the bit and hung the bridle over his arm. “You weren’t hungry?”

“Had things to do.”

“Seems to me like you’re avoiding our new cook,” he said with a knowing grin.

Cody heaved the saddle off the horse and moved to Bryce’s. “You know how busy I am.”

“You’ve got to learn to delegate more. Life isn’t just work. And now there’s a pretty new cook on the ranch.” He winked. “And I heard she’s single. You might want to make time for her.”

Cody didn’t bother responding to Uncle Ted’s blatant comments. In the distance a coyote sent up a lonely shivering wail into the cool evening air. But he heard no replying howl.

“It’s been almost four years since Tabitha,” his uncle said, his voice quiet.

Cody clenched the brush, knowing exactly where Ted was heading.

“You’ve been pushing yourself since then, working every hour of the day, going nonstop.” Ted kept his voice low, as if he knew he had to approach this subject with caution. “Tabitha is gone, and you can’t change that.”

Cody walked over to Bryce’s horse and started brushing him but said nothing. He didn’t want to talk about his former wife. Though he missed Tabitha, her betrayal had hurt him more than her passing had. They’d been drifting apart for months before she took off from the ranch.

“So now Vivienne Clayton is cooking here,” the older rancher continued, “and I think that’s a good thing.”

Cody snapped his head around, glaring at his uncle. He should have known his partner wasn’t trying to be sympathetic and understanding. Should have known that Uncle Ted always, always had a plan.

“I only hired her ‘cause I had no choice, thanks to you,” Cody said, wanting to stop Ted mid-matchmaking. “As for her cooking here, she’s a Clayton, and she’s only hanging around long enough to collect the money that old miser George left her. Once that happens, she’s back to New York where she belongs, far as I know. I would be surprised if she sticks it out here longer than a week.” He stopped, realizing how defensive he sounded.

Ted led his horse to the corral. “Why don’t you like her? I heard you two were an item a time back,” he called out over the screeching of the opening gate.

That Ted. He just never let up.

“We were never an item.” Cody’s movements were brisk as he finished brushing off Bryce’s horse.

“But I thought—”

“Look, Uncle Ted, you’re my partner, not my life coach.” As soon as he spoke the words, Cody wished he could take them back. It was thanks to his uncle he even had a stake in the Circle C. Uncle Ted had only one daughter, Karlee, who had no interest in ranching and lived in town. Ted had taken Cody in during the many trips his missionary parents made overseas and instilled in him a love of the land and a love of ranching.

One of Cody’s first memories was of Ted helping him onto a horse and leading him around the corral.

His uncle knew more about Cody than even his parents did. He knew Cody had a “thing” once upon a time for Vivienne Clayton. Ted just didn’t know how flatly Vivienne had turned him down. Cody had been too humiliated to give those details out and had let Ted believe something was brewing with him and “that gorgeous Clayton gal,” as Ted insisted on calling her.

“I’m sorry,” Cody said quietly, staring over the back of the horse at the darkening sky, unable to meet Ted’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just, well, I’ve got Bonnie driving me crazy with wanting to move closer to the center of town and we’ve the gather to take care of and hay to haul …” He let the sentence drift off. Too much to deal with. Too much to think about.

“It’s okay.” Ted untied Cody’s horse and led him to the corral, as well. “I get it.”

“I hope you do,” Cody said quietly. “Vivienne Clayton is just the cook here. Nothing else.”

“Sure. Of course.”

“She’s a city girl and always will be now.” Just like Tabitha was.

“Yup. I hear ya.”

Cody shot his uncle a warning glance as he put Bryce’s horse away, but Ted was already through the gate, obviously lured on by the mouth-watering smells drifting from the cookhouse. “You coming?” Ted called over his shoulder.

“Yeah. In a bit.” Reluctance kept him back, watching the horses rolling in the dirt, grunting with satisfaction as their legs flailed awkwardly in the air.

His stomach rumbled and he knew he couldn’t put off going to the cookhouse any longer.

Trouble was, Uncle Ted had hit on a nerve.

Vivienne Clayton looked as beautiful as he remembered, and in spite of what he’d had to deal with, she still held a certain fascination.

You’re older, wiser. She was just a high school crush.

He straightened his shoulders, told himself to man up and followed his uncle across the yard.

But before he could get into the cookhouse, the door slammed open and one of his hired hands, Dover, stormed down the stairs, grumbling as he went.

“What’s the matter?” Cody asked, catching his arm as he passed him.

Dover glared at the cookhouse then dropped his hat back on his balding head. “I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“If you want to call that eating,” Dover returned, hitching his belt up over his protruding stomach. “Have to fill up on those lousy energy bars you got us a while back.”

And before Cody could ask him more, Dover was gone, his short, stubby legs pounding the dusty ground between the cookhouse and the bunkhouse.

Cody stepped into the cookhouse to the sound of grumbling and his heart dropped as a couple of the hands stared at him, looking as grumpy as Dover had.

Bryce sat at the table, frowning at his plate, Cade beside him poking something around on his plate. Even Ted, who had been so enthusiastic about hiring Vivienne, was looking at Bryce’s food with a puzzled expression.

Not again, he thought with a feeling of inevitability.

He sent up another prayer for an extra dose of energy and pushed open the door to the kitchen.

Vivienne stood with her back to him, stirring something, her silly cook’s hat crooked on her head.

Bowls, plates, pots and utensils covered every square inch of counter and even the butcher block table behind her. Even Stimpy Stevens, the cook who dipped a little too deeply into the cooking sherry, never made the kitchen this messy.

He was about to speak up when his little sister came out of the adjoining pantry carrying a bag of flour.

“Put the flour bag on the floor,” Vivienne said. “I’ll take care of it. For now, bring those plates of food out to your uncle Ted and your brother.”

As Bonnie set the flour down, Cody stifled a sigh. He thought her makeup was bad before. Today her lips were a bright crimson slash on a face adorned with pancake makeup. Her eyes were ringed with black and deep brown. She looked like a raccoon.

Obviously she had found the makeup he thought he had hidden.

“What in the world is going on here?” he called out, his voice coming out louder than he intended.

Vivienne spun around and her cheeks flamed red. Then she straightened, brushing her hands over her apron.

“Why are you here?” He pointed at Bonnie. “Why aren’t you up at the house?”

Bonnie lifted her chin and Cody saw that defiant look take over her face as she grabbed a plate of food. “Vivienne needed help cooking and serving.”

Which brought him to his original reason for coming here. Trouble was, he didn’t know what to deal with first.

“Right now, Ms. Clayton and I need to talk and you need to go back to the house and wash your face.”

Bonnie pressed her red lips together. “I’m not a little girl.”

“Not the way you look,” he concurred. He poked his thumb over his shoulder. “To the house. When I come back there, I want all that goop cleaned off your face.”

She pursed her crimson lips and shot a quick glance at Vivienne, as if looking for help.

“Get your uncle Ted his dinner and dessert, and then you can go,” Vivienne said quietly, and Bonnie left.

Which, in turn, made Cody feel as if he couldn’t handle Bonnie on his own. Which made him feel even more frustrated. He knew he was being cranky and blamed it on a long day in the saddle and too many things weighing on his mind.

One of which was an uncle and partner spouting dumb ideas about the woman standing in front of him, her blond hair falling in loose wisps around her flushed face.

She looked as beautiful as she had in high school. More beautiful, if that was possible.

He shook his head to dislodge that thought. He had more important things to deal with.

When the kitchen door fell shut behind his little sister, he turned back to his cook. Belatedly he pulled his hat off and released his breath on a heavy sigh.

He couldn’t help but be distracted by her looks. By her presence.

How was he supposed to do this?

Chapter Four

The kitchen was a decent size, but somehow Cody’s presence dominated the room. And as he glanced around at the pots, pans, dishes and bowls strewn over every available working space, she tried not to squirm.

Here it comes, Vivienne thought, a prickling dread working its way through her veins. Another failure.

“What is it?” Vivienne wiped her hands on her apron, then clasped them in front of her.

Cody gave her a curt nod of recognition as he slapped his hat against his leg. His blue jeans were coated in dust, as was his loose jacket, and his damp hair was plastered to his head. He looked rough and rugged.

And oddly appealing.

Vivienne wanted to give herself a shake. You’re about to lose a job, and you’re making eyes at the man who’s going to fire you?

She straightened, determined to hold her head up in the face of whatever criticism was coming.

Cody scratched his one eyebrow with a forefinger and sighed. In that moment, Vivienne caught a look of utter weariness fall across his features. He looks exhausted, she thought with a flicker of compassion. Then his features tightened, his eyes narrowed and the moment fled.

“So what’s for dinner?” he asked her.

“Cornish game hens and savory stuffing balls with chocolate mousse for dessert.” Why had it sounded like such a good idea when she was making up the menu and so oddball now that she was saying it out loud to Cody?

Cody’s frown told her exactly what he thought of that menu as he glanced around the kitchen. For a moment she saw it through his eyes. Saw the pots, pans, dishes and bowls spread over every available working space, and she struggled to stay composed.

“I usually keep my kitchen cleaner than this,” she said, clenching her hands tighter to stop herself from fussing and tidying. “But I’m also used to having a couple of assistants.”

“Is that why you got Bonnie to help?”

“She volunteered,” Vivienne said in her defense, knowing exactly how Cody felt about Bonnie hanging around her.

“Stimpy didn’t need help.”

“And he was fired because he was careless,” she retorted.

As were you.

She stifled the accusing thoughts. That was different.

Was it? Careless is careless.

“So why do you need help?”

She gestured around the kitchen. “I think this speaks for itself.” She felt tired just looking at all the work ahead of her.

“I’m sure it would be easier if you made simpler food.”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches is simple food.” The retort came out before she could stop it. “I thought I would give the men something tasty.”

“I don’t know how tasty they thought it was,” he said with a frown. “All I’ve heard was grumbling. Beans and biscuits would have been a better idea than what you dished up tonight.”

Each word was like a blow to her own self-worth. Had she really lost her touch? Was she really such a failure as a chef that she couldn’t even please cowboys?

“I said to keep it simple,” Cody continued.

She rolled her eyes. “What I made wasn’t that complicated.”

“Savory stuffing balls for hungry hands? Seriously?”

Her cheeks tightened at his mockery. “Sorry, I’ll try to dumb down the menu.” As soon as she spoke she realized how brusque that came out.

“It’s just food, Miss Clayton,” he retorted. “Fuel for the body.”

All her training and years of work rebelled against this blunt comment. “Food is more than that. It’s enjoyment. It’s one of life’s pleasures. It’s … it’s …” Her He r outrage at his ridiculous comment left her stumbling around trying to find how to explain how wrong he was.

“Food is calories,” he said, cutting into her explanation. “Just make sure you give my men enough calories to do their job.”

“Calories can still taste good.” Vivienne tried to keep the prim note out of her voice but could tell from his raised eyebrow she hadn’t succeeded. She realized she was butting against a brick wall. For now. “But I’ll still need help even if I’m dumbing down the menu.”

This netted her a heavy sigh. Cody ran his hand over his face and glanced around the cookhouse. “I can’t spare any of the hands. I suppose I could talk to Delores, Grady’s wife.”

Grady, she understood, was one of the few married men who lived in a rented house on the ranch. “Delores has made it pretty clear she’s not stepping foot in the kitchen again,” Vivienne stated. “Which leaves me with Bonnie.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed. Why did it bother him so much?

“I know you don’t like having Bonnie help,” Vivienne continued, “but I also know she’s bored … and bored teenage girls get into trouble. Especially when there’s a couple of young men on the ranch.”

Cody glared at her, but she could tell he was wavering.

“Bryce knows better than to get near my sister, and Cade is engaged to Jasmine Turner,” he said.

“Cade Clayton is a grandson of Samuel Clayton,” Vivienne said sharply. “I know my family thinks he’s a good kid, but I don’t know him well enough to form a positive opinion.”

The history of the Claytons was checkered with double-dealings and backstabbings. A person didn’t have to go too far into the family tree to find the source.

According to Cade’s relatives, her grandfather, George Clayton, had swindled land and money and stolen the woman he’d loved from his brother, Samuel Clayton. Those half-truths and lies had been perpetuated by Samuel’s children and grandchildren. As a result, Vivienne’s side of the family, through George Senior, was hated by Samuel Clayton’s side of the family.

One of whom was Cade. Cade’s own cousins had been behind a string of problems that had dogged her family since Grandpa George’s funeral and will. Had Cade been able to keep himself above the invective spoon-fed to each of his relatives on the Samuel Clayton side of the family? As she had told Cody, Brooke and Zach seemed to like Cade but she still struggled with who he was related to. Les, Vincent, Marsha and the rest never had anything good to say about Vivienne or her family members.

“You Claytons and your family feuds,” Cody said in a voice that clearly expressed his opinion. “I don’t care who did what when, but I trust Cade Clayton.” Then he gave her a cool look she could only assume meant he didn’t trust her. “And as for my sister, I’m not crazy about her working with you, but I agree that she needs to stay out of trouble.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “She can help you in the kitchen once in a while and only when she doesn’t have too much homework, but I want you to know I’ll be watching you.”

“Watching me for what?” Vivienne couldn’t stop the words that burst out of her.

“Bonnie is easily influenced,” Cody said, his voice growing grim. “And she wants like crazy to get away from the ranch. And I know you think Clayton is some hick town and you’ll be leaving as soon as you can.” He stopped there and then waved his hand between them as if to erase what he just said. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. What you do is none of my business.”

Vivienne felt a confusing mixture of anger and shame at his comments. Yes, she was only staying around long enough for the money, and why shouldn’t she? Clayton held nothing for her.

But at the same time, his opinion of her bothered her on a level she didn’t want to examine too hard.

Then he looked around the kitchen again, shaking his head. “For now, I guess you’ll have to clean this up yourself.”

She wanted to make a comment but felt enough had been said for now. Tomorrow was another day.

“One more thing,” he said, dropping his hat on his head. “In the next day or so I’d like to sit down with you and figure out a menu.”

Her back stiffened at his suggestion. “I think I can figure things out for myself.”

“Savory stuffing balls?”

“We covered that,” Vivienne said, struggling to keep her wounded pride in check.

She had to believe the stuffing balls and the game hens were done to perfection. Considering what she had to work with, she thought she had done quite well. So what had gone so badly wrong that the men were so upset? Was she really as bad a cook as her former boss had accused her of being?

Her confidence wavered again, but she held his gaze. “I’ll probably be up before you in the morning. What would you suggest I make for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs. Porridge. I don’t care. Keep it simple and keep it edible.”

There went her plan of Belgian buttermilk waffles with glazed bananas. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Just remember that,” Cody shot back. Then he shook his head and turned to leave.

“You didn’t get your dinner,” she called out, picking up the plate of food she had made up. She wanted him to see for himself what the men had been complaining about. Wanted to find out from him what he thought.

He glanced down at the proffered plate. “Sorry. I’m not hungry.”

Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself as she turned away from him. Maybe he’s really not hungry.

But she couldn’t help feeling that when he rejected her food, he was rejecting her.

Why do you care? After all … he’s a cowboy. You’re a city girl.

Yet, as he left, Vivienne felt as if some vitality and energy had left the room with him.

She brushed the silly feeling aside and turned back to the dirty pots and pans and dishes. She would be here until midnight cleaning up from a meal no one seemed to like. That was enough to make even the most experienced chef depressed.

The next morning Cody stepped inside the cookhouse, his stomach growling so loud he was surprised it didn’t drown out the complaining he heard rumbling through the building. After he left the cookhouse last night, he’d gone straight to his own house. Bonnie was hiding out in her bedroom. So he satisfied himself with a meal of cold cereal while he paid the bills and balanced the checkbook.

As a result, this morning, he was starving. But the sound of the griping going on in the cookhouse this morning made him want to pull his hat over his head and turn and leave.

Then Dover stood up, his back to Cody, and looked around at the gathered men, his meaty hands on his hips. “Okay, so we drew straws to see who goes to talk to her. Cade, you drew short straw, so it’s your job.”

“Give me a break, guys.” Cade Clayton held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want her mad at me.”

“C’mon. Young buck like you. Those shoulders. That Clayton blond hair,” Bryce teased, giving Cade’s belly a poke. “Rock-hard abs. What’s to be mad about? Besides, she’s your third or fourth cousin or something like that.”

Cade gave him a wry look. “Second cousin. And on the other branch of the family tree.”

“What’s going on?” Cody asked, hanging his jacket on the peg inside the door. As he walked across the wooden floor, his spurs jangled in the quiet.

“Cade drew short straw. He’s gotta talk to his cousin Vivienne about her cooking,” Dover said, scratching his ample belly. “‘Cause I tell you, what’s happened the last two meals isn’t workin’ for us.”

Cody angled his chin toward the empty bowls scattered over the table. “What was for breakfast?”

“Some kind of bread pudding,” Bryce put in.

Cody groaned. What happened to the bacon and eggs he suggested?

“Why don’t you talk to her,” Ted suggested. “She’ll listen to you.” His uncle lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that made Cody clench his jaw.

“Why do I have to go? You’re as much a partner as I am,” Cody said to his uncle Ted.

Ted shrugged and then winked. “Your shoulders got way more pull than mine.”

Cody nailed his uncle with a sharp look, but Ted wasn’t fazed.

“I don’t have time for this malarkey,” Cody grumbled even as he marched to the kitchen door and shoved it open. Why couldn’t he get anyone on this place to listen to him?

Vivienne stood by the sink, her hair pulled up, looking a lot less flushed than she did yesterday. She hummed a quiet tune, looking content and pleased with herself.

Gold hoops dangled from her ears and she wore a silk scarf around her neck. Like she was all dressed up for something. Or someone. Then she turned and the smile on her face went straight to his gut.

“Good morning, Cody. Is Bonnie coming to help me?” She angled her head to one side and gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

“No.”

Vivienne blew out her breath. “I thought—”

Cody held up his hand. One problem at a time. “She’s finishing up homework she sloughed off last night. She has to get it done before the bus comes to get her.”

“I see. Did you both have your breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Bonnie doesn’t eat breakfast.”

“What?” Vivienne looked horrified. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Hearing her parrot the same words his mom had always said to him gave him a momentary feeling of nostalgia. He waved off her comment.

“Maybe, but I’m not getting into that fight with her,” he said. He had to save his ammunition for bigger battles. Like trying to find a way to spend quality time with his sister, getting his work done and keeping her away from the single cowboys on this ranch.

Once again he wished his parents had sent his sister somewhere else. He didn’t have time to take care of her properly.

“Did you have breakfast?” Vivienne asked.

“Just got here in time to hear the men grumbling. Again. About the food you made.”

Her smile dropped away into a frown and he felt like smacking himself on the head. That came out all wrong, but something about her tangled his thoughts, which plugged up his conversational filter.

“What could the men possibly be groping about now?” she said. “I made a simple breakfast, like you told me. Bread pudding, of all things.” She balled her hands into fists and dropped them onto her hips. “Those ungrateful louses. I spent a lot of time on that breakfast.”

“From the sounds of their grumbling, you might have been better off with porridge packs.”

“Porridge packs? What are you talking about?”

Cody shook his head, trying to comprehend the fact that this fancy, New York chef didn’t understand one of the staples of breakfast out on the trail. “You boil the water. You rip open the porridge packet. You put the two together in a bowl. Stir and eat.”

Vivienne made a face as if he had suggested she use mud. “You can’t be serious. I actually know which ingredients go into the food I cook. None of that butylated hydroxytoluene added to packaging material to preserve freshness.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Vivienne held up her hand. “Work joke.”

“What I am serious about is you doing what I ask. You’ve cooked two meals for my guys, and both times they’ve bombed. Even old Stimpy Stevens didn’t have that bad a track record.”

Vivienne pulled back as if he had hit her. “But … I …” She pressed her lips together and turned away.

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