Foolin'

By Allyson Young

When Kathleen and Carter meet, it’s intrigue at first sight, and they awaken from emotional exile. A turn of events finds her spontaneously joining him on his working ranch. Despite being really hard work, she’s blissfully happy—and the fringe benefits aren’t too shabby either.
Carter can’t believe his luck. He desperately needed a housekeeper, not that he welcomed this amazing woman into his home for that reason. He can cope with her bond with her daughter, no matter how it forces him to remember his lost young son. And he can’t give her his heart, but what he can give is surely enough.

In love with this amazing man, Kate ignores that Carter withholds, believing he’ll change, and she’s willing to wait. When she inadvertently discovers he was angling for a housekeeper all along, it knocks her blinders off.

She’s done waiting. She deserves more—and so does he.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Jun 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781773399799

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2019 Allyson Young

ISBN: 978-1-77339-979-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

Sincere thanks to my beta readers, Karen Hawk who appreciated reading an older heroine, Janka Dustan who hoped for one who was tall, and Dawn Stone who ranches and knows all about hard work! And to my editor Audrey Bobak who caught all those simultaneous action verb errors! Foolin' was fun to write.

FOOLIN’

Allyson Young

Copyright © 2019

Chapter One

Carter Rodgers shoved his fingers through his overly long mop of hair—yet another thing to address on his to-do list—and groaned. For good measure, he shut his eyes against the sight of the detritus of a hastily and poorly prepared meal scattered over the large farm table.

Deke chuckled. "I expect they’ll be raiding their stash in the bunkhouse. Those hands know your skill in the kitchen, brother. Their motto is Be Prepared."

At least Merry will feed you when you get home, jerkwad. I’ve got men who put in a long, hard day with the cattle, filling up on junk food. All because I can’t attract a decent housekeeper. He shoved his chair back and stood, stretching out his spine back and taking stock of his sore muscles. Separating calves from their doting mommas for first-round vaccinations was his least favorite task on his ranch—next to cooking and cleaning.

You need to advertise further out.

Leave it to Deke to state the obvious. Gathering up plates and balancing cutlery on top, Carter then stalked to the farm sink and dropped them in with a crash and a clatter. The distinct crack of china let him know he’d broken another. Son of a bitch.

I’ve done that, he snapped. I either get applicants with a passel of kids or women who must figure it’s a dating site. No clue of the hard work involved, thinking to snag themselves a wealthy rancher like in the romance books.

His brother said quietly, Kids aren’t so bad.

Kids were fine. As long as they were someplace else and someone else’s. He loved his two nephews, hellions that they were. They reminded him of when he and Deke were that age. But he couldn’t be reminded…

Deke cut in on his thoughts, probably divining their direction. You weren’t supposed to outlive your kids. It fucking gutted a person. And when a child died so senselessly… So, no kids, his brother said. No ditsy women. Maybe it’s in the wording of the ad. You know, really make it clear. Mature housekeeper slash cook wanted for busy cattle ranch. Salary, no benefits whatsoever.

Appealing. Though nothing else had worked.

Mention the salary. Make it worth their while.

I gotta do something.

Carter, you could marry again. There’s the waitress down at the Watering Hole. She’s from good stock, ranchers. Sarah somebody. Or—

Marry someone to get a housekeeper? He scoffed, knowing what Deke was up to.

His brother passed a hand over his face. It could be more than that. You’re killing yourself to make the ranch a goer. What happens to it when you can’t work it anymore?

He never let himself think about that. Justin was to have inherited, grow up learning the cattle business and taking over for his old man, like Carter had with his dad. His dad with Gramps. Deke had stepped away, his own choice, and became a veterinarian, a handy profession in these parts and handier still to have one’s own personal vet on call.

You and Merry have two boys. Alex and Noah love the ranch.

Deke sighed and stood, looming over the table as he reached for his hat. No guarantee that either will want to actually work it though, Carter. Not that we don’t appreciate you thinking of our kids. Guess we’ll see what happens down the line. I was just thinking you’d benefit from female companionship.

Carter finished clearing the table, aware of his brother brooding behind him. After Carolynn left, hard on the heels of Justin’s death, he hadn’t considered marrying again. He hadn’t chased her, hadn’t tried to dissuade her either, and granted the divorce without a qualm.

It was like there was a numb place in the middle of his chest where no one was allowed. And if he had let himself feel, he’d have been afraid of what might have spilled over onto her. He didn’t know where she was, knew nothing of what she was doing, and didn’t care. She should have been in fucking prison.

Getting his physical needs met meant using his own, capable right hand or making the trip to the city, to a cattlemen’s convention or a buying trip. He’d met up with not a few good-looking women out for one or two nights of mutual enjoyment, no strings attached. But marriage? Nope. And definitely no kids.

After fishing his phone out of his pocket, he opened up his video app. Panning around the kitchen, he tried to capture the essence of the place while avoiding the mess and continued on throughout the downstairs. Deke dogged his footsteps.

You’re gonna do a video ad?

Works for selling the cattle.

Affecting a solemn announcer’s voice, his brother narrated over his shoulder, Welcome to The Roaring R. As you can see, the house is sturdy but somewhat lacking in amenities and the touch of a knowledgeable female hand. And the owner, Carter Rodgers, has definite qualifiers for the job. No exceptions. Older woman, a plain Jane, definitely no rug rats, no romantic aspirations. He requires a woman prepared to work herself to the bone for nothing other than—

Asshole. You think that’ll entice the right woman? It’ll take more finesse than that. He fumbled the video to off. Now I’ve got to edit that out.

Deke plunked his hat on his head and adjusted the brim. I won’t give you any more grief, Carter. Just want to see you … living on all fronts. Like I tell you most every day.

Right. Carter could admit to a niggle of envy in regard to his brother’s relationship with Merry, something he thought he’d had with Carolynn, before… Time had flown by, and he hadn’t begun to face the devastation head-on. Why would he want anything to remind him of the experience? Instead, he’d adjusted. At forty-four, he was long past that pie-in-the-sky romance deal.

Deke had waited for the right woman, kept it gloved, and wasn’t put in the position to have to do the honorable thing. His kids came along at respectable intervals after the marriage. Not that Carter regretted Justin. Only Carolynn.

Shaking himself out of his reverie like his old dog used to, he walked Deke to the door. My love to Merry. Give the boys a tussle for me.

Will do. And don’t forget the fundraiser this coming Friday.

Damn. He’d consigned that to his forget about it and ask forgiveness later in the shape of a big check category. He’d donated the steer, after all. Uh…

How would it look if you didn’t show up? You’re one of the biggest operations around, Carter. C’mon. It’s a silent auction and a dance, a spread at midnight, proceeds to the clinic. Four hours out of your life for your community. Plus travel time.

And a close shave, dressing up, and avoiding any hopeful would-be ranch wives Deke had started to reference. Not to mention screwing an opportunity for completing some paperwork and—dare he think it?—getting a few extra hours of rest. Shit. I’ll be there.

He watched the truck’s tail lights recede down the long drive and out of sight before he slammed the heavy door. A few insects had taken advantage and were buzzing about, so he battered them with a rolled-up newspaper, leaving the corpses where they lay. The foyer wasn’t as bad as the back entrance, where the mudroom contained some, but not all, of what he and his hands tracked in.

The kitchen floor needed to be swept. Double shit. Dishes. Planning tomorrow’s meals. Taking meat out to thaw. A grocery list. It went on and on, and then there was the real work that paid the bills, both practical and paper-related. There weren’t enough hours in the day.

Glumly, he traipsed to his office and uploaded the video to his laptop. Editing out his brother’s comments, he summed up his requirements as succinctly as possible. Aside from contravening certain laws, he couldn’t exactly mirror what Deke had coined, and he had a brainwave to include, in any event. Regardless, he expected to have to wade through a ton of replies and still find no one suitable. More time he couldn’t afford. He fired off the ad to a number of sites and put it out of his mind.

Preferring to deal with the more mundane issues of running the ranch, he then answered emails and dealt with bills and made some notes regarding an upcoming auction. With everything relatively under control, he made himself face the kitchen.

By the time he’d done the kitchen work, he was near collapse, his eyes gritty with exhaustion and dust, his body clamoring for bed. Making a mental note to price out dishwashers and installs, he dragged himself upstairs. He nearly staggered into his Spartan bedroom, all evidence of any feminine influence long-since erased, and shucked his clothes.

Figuring he was the only one who had to smell himself, he opted for a shower in the morning and crawled into bed. Laundry. Another task he’d fallen behind on. He had to find help. Had to.

The memory of Deke’s reference to female companionship stirred, and for a heartbeat, so did his cock. It liked women, even if he wasn’t inclined. Tiredness won out, and he dropped into oblivion.

Chapter Two

Kathleen Walker looked around at her surroundings. A city girl, she found herself fascinated with the clearly rural décor, so warm and welcoming. She liked it.

This is such an imposition on my weekend, Susan Gillespie said.

I’m okay with it. And she meant that. Sure, it was a three-hour drive, and they’d already decided to spend the night in the two-star hotel on the edge of town rather than risk the return trip after a really long day, but it wasn’t her vehicle or her expense. And she had no social life to speak of so this was like a safe adventure of sorts.

But from the other woman’s scowl, that was the wrong thing to say.

Susan pushed her black curls off her shoulders. It’s getting so you can’t do any kind of fundraiser without an audit team standing by. I’m not much for small towns, reminds me too much of where I came from.

That was news to Kathleen. The other woman came across as high society, big city, with her model-thin shape and exotic good looks. All that black hair, pale skin, and big brown eyes, whereas she had to look ungainly alongside Susan.

At nearly six feet, she had definite curves spaced evenly along her tall frame, and her thick, dirty blonde hair resisted any curl or styling. She kept it in a ponytail or coiled on her neck, the better to stay out of her way when she toiled over whatever set of books she was keeping—or in the kitchen. And while she had regular features and hazel eyes that reflected her clothing color or her moods, she’d never be considered pretty, not that it had ever been an important consideration in her life.

You fit in well in the city, she offered.

I work at it. Susan flashed her a smile and turned up the wattage as two obvious cowboys approached the area where the silent auction items were set up. There’s a ring on the guy on the right, she murmured. But the other one looks single.

Susan was doing that preening thing beside her, a slight adjustment in body posture to better showcase her purchased breasts and long legs. Kathleen winced internally at her cattiness. Just because she didn’t date—or hook up—didn’t mean others shouldn’t. It felt a bit out of place in the surroundings, maybe.

Kathleen focused on both men, noting the similarity in their features. Family. Brothers or cousins. Clinically, she recognized how attractive they were, dual cowboy hotness. She nearly laughed out loud at her observation. There were lots of cowboys—real and would-be—in the city, roaming around, driving big trucks, but she didn’t know one personally. Had met few in the course of her career. But… Her regard suddenly didn’t feel so clinical as something within her cracked through her façade, and she really took notice of the one on the left.

Hello. Susan Gillespie of Murphy, Johnson, and Smith. Accountants and the auditors for this event. A white, even-toothed smile accompanied her introduction. This is Kathleen Walker, our bookkeeper.

Relegated to her rightful station, Kathleen hid her surprise. She didn’t know Susan very well, had never accompanied her to such an event before, so maybe this was normal modus operandi. Establish a pecking order. She nodded at the two men, the fluttering reaction in her belly to one again puzzling her.

Deke Rodgers. My brother Carter. We’d like to make a donation.

Hello. Susan’s sibilant response made Kathleen wince. The cowboys looked at the woman but didn’t otherwise appear to notice. Unless Carter’s slight brow raise qualified.

Susan recovered instantly, and Kathleen marveled, as out of practice as she was. Are you local? the other woman asked as Kathleen accepted the checks and secured them.

I’m a vet. Carter ranches.

Kathleen wondered if Carter ever spoke for himself. He transferred his stare to her, and she was struck by the startling paleness of his blue eyes, framed with dark lashes and edged by deep squint lines. Someone who either laughed a lot or spent a great deal of time in the sun.

The latter, she decided, as his mouth, while nicely shaped, was set tightly. She intuited he smiled rarely, let alone laughed. Astonished by her segue into reading a complete stranger, she smiled awkwardly.

Cattle, of course, though I’m experimenting with some crops. For feed.

His deep voice washed over her, and she felt unaccountably warm, despite her sleeveless dress and the lightness of the fabric. Ah.

Brilliant. An insightful response. She fought the color that threatened to creep up her throat and paint her cheeks. What was she doing?