Seduce Me, Cowboy

Then a line began to form, and Hayley was grateful she had come as early as she had.

A moment later, her order was ready. Popping the lid off her cup at the cream and sugar station, she gave herself a generous helping of both. She walked back out the way she had come in, going to her car, which was parked behind the building in her reserved space.

She got inside, wishing she’d warmed up the vehicle before placing her order. It wasn’t too cold this morning, but she could see her breath in the damp air. She positioned both cups of coffee in the cup holders of her old Civic, and then headed to the main road, which was void of traffic—and would remain that way for the entire day.

She liked the pace of Copper Ridge, she really did. Liked the fact that she knew so many people, that people waved and smiled when she walked by. Liked that there were no traffic lights, and that you rarely had to wait for more than one car at a four-way stop.

She loved the mountains, and she loved the ocean.

But she knew there were things beyond this place, too. And she wanted to see them.

Needed to see them.

She thought about all those places as she drove along the winding road to Jonathan Bear’s house. She had the vague thought that if she went to London or Paris, if she looked at the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben, structures so old and lasting—structures that had been there for centuries—maybe she would learn something about herself.

Maybe she would find what she couldn’t identify here. Maybe she would find the cure for the elusive ache in her chest when she saw Ace with Sierra and their kids.

Would find the freedom to be herself—whoever that might be. To flirt and date, and maybe drink a beer. To escape the confines that so rigidly held her.

Even driving out of town this morning, instead of to the church, was strange. Usually, she felt as though she were moving through the grooves of a well-worn track. There were certain places she went in town—her parents’ home, the church, the grocery store, The Grind, her brother’s brewery and restaurant, but never his bar—and she rarely deviated from that routine.

She supposed this drive would become routine soon enough.

She pulled up to the front of the house, experiencing a sharp sense of déjà vu as she walked up to the front porch to knock again. Except this time her stomach twisted with an even greater sense of trepidation. Not because Jonathan Bear was an unknown, but because she knew a little bit about him now. And what she knew terrified her.

The door jerked open before she could pound against it. “Just come in next time,” he said.

“Oh.”

“During business hours. I was expecting you.”

“Expecting me to be late?” she asked, holding out his cup of coffee.

He arched a dark brow. “Maybe.” He tilted his head to the side. “What’s that?”

“Probably coffee.” She didn’t know why she was being anything other than straightforward and sweet. He’d made it very clear that he had exacting standards. Likely, he wanted his assistant to fulfill his every whim before it even occurred to him, and to do so with a smile. Likely, he didn’t want his assistant to sass him, even lightly.

Except, something niggled at her, telling her he wouldn’t respect her at all if she acted like a doormat. She was good at reading people. It was a happy side effect of being quiet. Of having few friends, of being an observer. Of spending years behind the church desk, not sure who might walk through the door seeking help. That experience had taught Hayley not only kindness, but also discernment.

And that was why she chose to follow her instincts with Jonathan.

“It’s probably coffee?” he asked, taking the cup from her, anyway.

“Yes,” she returned. “Probably.”

He turned away from her, heading toward the stairs, but she noticed that he took the lid off the cup and examined the contents. She smiled as she followed him up the stairs to the office.

The doors were already open, the computer that faced the windows fired up. There were papers everywhere. And pens sat across nearly every surface.

“Why so many pens?” she asked.

“If I have to stop and look for one I waste an awful lot of time cussing.”

“Fair enough.”

“I have to go outside and take care of the horses, but I want you to go through that stack of invoices and enter all the information into the spreadsheet on the computer. Can you do that?”

“Spreadsheets are my specialty. You have horses?”

He nodded. “This is kind of a ranch.”

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize.”

“No reason you should.” Then he turned, grabbing a black cowboy hat off a hook and putting it firmly on his head. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. And I’m going to want more coffee. The machine is downstairs in the kitchen. Should be pretty easy. Probably.”

Then he brushed his fingertips against the brim of his hat, nodding slightly before walking out, leaving her alone.

When he left, something in her chest loosened, eased. She hadn’t realized just how tense she’d felt in his presence.

She took a deep breath, sitting down at the desk in front of the computer, eyeing the healthy stack of papers to her left. Then she looked over the monitor to the view below. This wouldn’t be so bad. He wasn’t here looking over her shoulder, barking orders. And really, in terms of work space, this office could hardly be beat.

Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

* * *

By the time Jonathan made a run to town after finishing up with the horses, it was past lunchtime. So he brought food from the Crab Shanty and hoped his new assistant didn’t have a horrible allergy to seafood.

He probably should have checked. He wasn’t really used to considering other people. And he couldn’t say he was looking forward to getting used to it. But he would rather she didn’t die. At least, not while at work.

He held tightly to the white bag of food as he made his way to the office. Her back was to the door, her head bent low over a stack of papers, one hand poised on the mouse.

He set the bag down loudly on the table by the doorway, then deposited his keys there, too. He hung his hat on the hook. “Hungry?”

Her head popped up, her eyes wide. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me. You should have announced yourself or something.”

“I just did. I said, ‘hungry?’ I mean, I could have said I’m here, but how is that any different?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have an answer to that.”

“Great. I have fish.”

“What kind?”

“Fried kind.”

“I approve.”

He sighed in mock relief. “Good. Because if you didn’t, I don’t know how I would live with myself. I would have had to eat both of these.” He opened the bag, taking out two cartons and two cans of Coke.

He sat in the chair in front of the table he used for drawing plans, then held her portion toward her.

She made a funny face, then accepted the offered lunch. “Is one of the Cokes for me, too?”

“Sure,” he said, sliding a can at her.

She blinked, then took the can.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You expected me to hand everything to you, didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe. But, I’m sorry. I don’t work with my father anymore, as you have mentioned more than once.”

“No,” he said, “you don’t. And this isn’t a church. Though—” he took a french fry out of the box and bit it “—this is pretty close to a religious experience.” He picked up one of the thoughtfully included napkins and wiped his fingers before popping the top on the Coke can.

“How did you know I worked at the church?” she asked.

“I pay attention. And I definitely looked at the address you included on your form. Also, I know your brother. Or rather, I know of him. My sister is engaged to his brother-in-law. I might not be chummy with him, but I know his dad is the pastor. And that he has a younger sister.”

She looked crestfallen. “I didn’t realize you knew my brother.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I was trying to get a job based on my own merit. Not on family connections. And frankly, I can’t find anyone who is not connected to my family in some way in this town. My father knows the saints, my brother knows the sinners.”

“Are you calling me a sinner?”

She picked gingerly at a piece of fish. “All have sinned and so forth.”

“That isn’t what you meant.”

She suddenly became very interested in her coleslaw, prodding it with her plastic fork.

“How is it you know I’m a sinner?” he asked, not intending to let her off the hook, because this was just so fun. Hell, he’d gone and hired himself a church secretary, so might as well play with her a little bit.

“I didn’t mean that,” she insisted, her cheeks turning pink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush.

“Well, if it helps at all, I don’t know your brother well. I just buy alcohol from him on the weekends. But you’re right. I am a sinner, Hayley.”

She looked up at him then. The shock reflected in those stormy eyes touched him down deep. Made his stomach feel tight, made his blood feel hot. All right, he needed to get a handle on himself. Because that was not the kind of fun he was going to have with the church secretary he had hired. No way.

Jonathan Bear was a ruthless bastard; that fact could not be disputed. He had learned to look out for himself at an early age, because no one else would. Not his father. Certainly not his mother, who had taken off when he was a teenager, leaving him with a younger sister to raise. And most definitely not anyone in town.

But, even he had a conscience.

In theory, anyway.

“Good to know. I mean, since we’re getting to know each other, I guess.”

They ate in relative silence after that. Jonathan took that opportunity to check messages on his phone. A damn smartphone. This was what he had come to. Used to be that if he wanted to spend time alone he could unplug and go out on his horse easily enough. Now, he could still do that, but his business partners—dammit all, he had business partners—knew that he should be accessible and was opting not to be.

“Why did you leave the church?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.

“I didn’t. I mean, not as a member. But, I couldn’t work there anymore. You know, I woke up one morning and looked in the mirror and imagined doing that exact same thing in forty years. Sitting behind that desk, in the same chair, talking to the same people, having the same conversations... I just didn’t think I could do it. I thought...well, for a long time I thought if I sat in that chair life would come to me.” She took a deep breath. “But it won’t. I have to go get it.”

What she was talking about... That kind of stability. It was completely foreign to him. Jonathan could scarcely remember a time in his life when things had stayed the same from year to year. He would say one thing for poverty, it was dynamic. It could be a grind, sure, but it kept you on your toes. He’d constantly looked for new ways to support himself and Rebecca. To prove to child services that he was a fit guardian. To keep their dwelling up to par, to make sure they could always afford it. To keep them both fed and clothed—or at least her, if not him.

He had always craved what Hayley was talking about. A place secure enough to rest for a while. But not having it was why he was here now. In this house, with all this money. Which was the only real damned security in the world. Making sure you were in control of everything around you.

Even if it did mean owning a fucking smartphone.

“So, your big move was to be my assistant?”

She frowned. “No. This is my small move. You have to make small moves before you can make a big one.”

That he agreed with, more or less. His whole life had been a series of small moves with no pausing in between. One step at a time as he climbed up to the top. “I’m not sure it’s the best thing to let your employer know you think he’s a small step,” he said, just because he wanted to see her cheeks turn pink again. He was gratified when they did.

“Sorry. This is a giant step for me. I intend to stay here forever in my elevated position as your assistant.”

He set his lunch down, leaning back and holding up his hands. “Slow down, baby. I’m not looking for a commitment.”

At that, her cheeks turned bright red. She took another bite of coleslaw, leaving a smear of mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the smudge, and along the edge of her lower lip.

He didn’t realize it was a mistake until the slug of heat hit him low and fast in the gut.

He hadn’t realized it would be a mistake because she was such a mousy little thing, a church secretary. Because his taste didn’t run to that kind of thing. At least, that’s what he would have said.

But while his brain might have a conscience, he discovered in that moment that his body certainly did not.

Three

It was like striking a match, his thumb sweeping across her skin. It left a trail of fire where he touched, and made her feel hot in places he hadn’t. She was... Well, she was immobilized.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, seeing exactly what was barreling down on her, and unable to move.

Except, of course, Jonathan wasn’t barreling down on her. He wasn’t moving at all.

He was just looking at her, his dark eyes glittering, his expression like granite. She followed his lead, unsure of what to do. Of how she should react.

And then, suddenly, everything clicked into place. Exactly what she was feeling, exactly what she was doing...and exactly how much of an idiot she was.

She took a deep breath, gasping as though she’d been submerged beneath water. She turned her chair sideways, facing the computer again. “Well,” she said, “thank you for lunch.”

Fiddlesticks. And darn it. And fudging graham crackers.

She had just openly stared at her boss, probably looking like a guppy gasping on dry land because he had wiped mayonnaise off her lip. Which was—as things went—probably one of the more platonic touches a man and a woman could share.

The problem was, she couldn’t remember ever being touched—even platonically—by a man who wasn’t family. So she had been completely unprepared for the reaction it created inside her. Which she had no doubt he’d noticed.

Attraction. She had felt attracted to him.

Backtracking, she realized the tight feeling in her stomach that had appeared the first moment she’d seen him was probably attraction.

That was bad. Very bad.

But what she was really curious about, was why this attraction felt different from what she’d felt around other men she had liked. She’d felt fluttery feelings before. Most notably for Grant Daniels, the junior high youth pastor, a couple years ago. She had really liked him, and she was pretty sure he’d liked her, too, but he hadn’t seemed willing to make a move.

She had conversations with him over coffee in the Fellowship Hall, where he had brought up his feelings on dating—he didn’t—and how he was waiting until he was ready to get married before getting into any kind of relationship with a woman.

For a while, she’d been convinced he’d told her that because he was close to being ready, and he might want to marry her.

Another instance of sitting, waiting and believing what she wanted would come to her through the sheer force of her good behavior.

Looking back, she realized it was kind of stupid that she had hoped he’d marry her. She didn’t know him, not really. She had only ever seen him around church, and of course her feelings for him were based on that. Everybody was on their best behavior there. Including her.

Not that she actually behaved badly, which was kind of the problem. There was what she did, what she showed the world, and then there were the dark, secret things that lived inside her. Things she wanted but was afraid to pursue.

The fluttery feelings she had for Grant were like public Hayley. Smiley, shiny and giddy. Wholesome and hopeful.

The tension she felt in her stomach when she looked at Jonathan...that was all secret Hayley.

And it scared her that there was another person who seemed to have access to those feelings she examined only late at night in the darkness of her room.

She had finally gotten up the courage to buy a romance novel when she’d been at the grocery store a month or so ago. She had always been curious about those books, but since she’d lived with her parents, she had never been brave enough to buy one.

So, at the age of twenty-four, she had gotten her very first one. And it had been educational. Very, very educational. She had been a little afraid of it, to be honest.

Because those illicit feelings brought about late at night by hazy images and the slide of sheets against her bare skin had suddenly become focused and specific after reading that book.

And if that book had been the fantasy, Jonathan was the reality. It made her want to turn tail and run. But she couldn’t. Because if she did, then he would know what no one else knew about her.

She couldn’t risk him knowing.

They were practically strangers. They had nothing in common. These feelings were ridiculous. At least Grant had been the kind of person she was suited to.

Which begged the question—why didn’t he make her feel this off-kilter?

Her face felt like it was on fire, and she was sure Jonathan could easily read her reaction. That was the problem. It had taken her longer to understand what she was feeling than it had likely taken him. Because he wasn’t sheltered like she was.

Sheltered even from her own desire.

The word made her shiver. Because it was one she had avoided thinking until now.

Desire.

Did she desire him? And if she did, what did that mean?

Her mouth went dry as several possibilities floated through her mind. Each more firmly rooted in fantasy than the last, since she had no practical experience with any of this.

And it was going to stay that way. At least for now.

Small steps. This job was her first small step. And it was a job, not a chance for her to get ridiculous over a man.

“Did you have anything else you wanted me to do?” she asked, not turning to face him, keeping her gaze resolutely pinned to the computer screen.

He was silent for a moment, and for some reason, the silence felt thick. “Did you finish entering the invoices?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “Here.” He handed her his phone. “If anyone calls, say I’m not available, but you’re happy to take a message. And I want you to call the county office and ask about the permits listed in the other spreadsheet I have open. Just get a status update on that. Do you cook?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Do you cook? I hired you to be my assistant. Which includes things around the house. And I eat around the house.”

“I cook,” she said, reeling from the change of topic.

“Great. Have something ready for me, and if I’m not back before you knock off at five, just keep it warm.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving her feeling both relieved and utterly confused. All those positive thoughts from this morning seemed to be coming back to haunt her, mock her.

The work she could handle. It was the man that scared her.

* * *

The first week of working with Hayley had been pretty good, in spite of that hiccup on the first day.

The one where he had touched her skin and felt just how soft it was. Something he never should have done.

But she was a good assistant. And every evening when he came in from dealing with ranch work his dinner was ready. That had been kind of a dick move, asking her to cook, but in truth, he hadn’t put a very detailed job description in the ad. And she wasn’t an employee of Gray Bear. She was his personal employee, and that meant he could expand her responsibilities.

At least, that was what he told himself as he approached the front porch Friday evening, his stomach already growling in anticipation. When he came in for the evening after the outside work was done, she was usually gone and the food was warming in the oven.

It was like having a wife. With none of the drawbacks and none of the perks.

But considering he could get those perks from a woman who wasn’t in his house more than forty hours a week, he would take this happily.

He stomped up the front steps, kicking his boots off before he went inside. He’d been walking through sludge in one of the far pastures and he didn’t want to track in mud. His housekeeper didn’t come until later in the week.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he processed that thought. He had a housekeeper. He didn’t have to get on his hands and knees and scrub floors anymore. Which he had done. More times than he would care to recount. Most of the time the house he and Rebecca had shared while growing up had been messy.

It was small, and their belongings—basic though they were—created a lot of clutter. Plus, teenage boys weren’t the best at keeping things deep cleaned. Especially not when they also had full-time jobs and were trying to finish high school. But when he knew child services would be by, he did his best.

He didn’t now. He paid somebody else to do it. For a long time, adding those kinds of expenses had made both pride and anxiety burn in his gut. Adjusting to living at a new income level was not seamless. And since things had grown exponentially and so quickly, the adjustments had come even harder. Often in a million ways he couldn’t anticipate. But he was working on it. Hiring a housekeeper. Hiring Hayley.

Pretty soon, he would give in and buy himself a new pair of boots.

He drew nearer to the kitchen, smelling something good. And then he heard footsteps, the clattering of dishes.

He braced his arms on either side of the doorway. Clearly, she hadn’t heard him approach. She was bending down to pull something out of the oven, her sweet ass outlined to perfection by that prim little skirt.

There was absolutely nothing provocative about it. It fell down past her knees, and when she stood straight it didn’t display any curves whatsoever.

For a moment, he just admired his own commitment to being a dick. She could not be dressed more appropriately, and still his eyes were glued to her butt. And damn, his body liked what he saw.

“You’re still here,” he said, pushing away from the door and walking into the room. He had to break the tension stretching tight inside him. Step one was breaking the silence and making his presence known. Step two was going to be calling up one of the women he had associations with off and on.

Because he had to do something to take the edge off. Clearly, it had been too long since he’d gotten laid.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her hands on a dishcloth and making a few frantic movements. As though she wanted to look industrious, but didn’t exactly have a specific task. “The roast took longer than I thought it would. But I did a little more paperwork while I waited. And I called the county to track down that permit.”

“You don’t have to justify all your time. Everything has gotten done this week. Plus, inefficient meat preparation was not on my list of reasons I might fire you.”

She shrugged. “I thought you reserved the right to revise that list at any time.”

“I do. But not today.”

“I should be out of your hair soon.” She walked around the counter and he saw she was barefoot. Earlier, he had been far too distracted by her backside to notice.

“Pretty sure that’s a health code violation,” he said.

She turned pink all the way up to her scalp. “Sorry. My feet hurt.”

He thought of those low, sensible heels she always wore and he had to wonder what the point was to wearing shoes that ugly if they weren’t even comfortable. The kind of women he usually went out with wore the kinds of shoes made for sitting. Or dancing on a pole.