Teasing Tuesday…3rd excerpt from SADDLED AND SPURRED!!

February 22, 2011

We are ONE short week from the release of SADDLED AND SPURRED!!! Here’s another sneak peek to whet your appetite for more Blacktop Cowboys!

SADDLED AND SPURRED ~ Blacktop Cowboys book 2 ~ NAL ~ pub date March 1st 2011

Bran glared at Harper Masterson wondering if he’d become the butt of some joke. He said as much to her, steeling himself against the tears he imaged would fill Harper’s pale brown eyes.

But her golden eyes narrowed. A bit haughtily, in fact. “Celia didn’t tell you I was coming?”

“Celia told me she’d found me a hired hand. She didn’t say a damn thing about it bein’ you.”

Harper’s chin shot up. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”

“I am.” Shit. Not the right thing to say. “Look, I don’t know what Celia told you about this job–”

“She didn’t tell me anything except to drive out here and talk to you. So here I am.” She pierced him with another lofty look. “Are you conducting the job interview on the porch?”

He scowled, biting back, “Ain’t gonna be a job interview.” Instead, he pushed away from the doorframe. “Might as well come in instead of standing out there freezin’.”

“Thank you.” Harper wiped the souls of her dominatrix boots and peeled off her pink, leopard print gloves. When she dipped the cowl of her wool coat, her golden hair stuck up in a million directions, making her seem approachable, not like a goddamn beauty queen.

A beauty queen. As his hired hand.

She smoothed her hands over her scalp, taming the wild strands. She jammed her hands in the front pockets of her fancy velvet suit jacket, embroidered with gold threads, and ignored his pointed stare.

Jesus, she was stunning. A wide face comprised of such sharp angles and strong lines shouldn’t look so startlingly feminine, but it worked perfectly on her. Add in a generous mouth with a tiny beauty mark above the curve of her full lips, those brandy-colored eyes, and Bran was nearly struck stupid by her magnificence.

Get a grip, man.

He gestured to the couch. “Have a seat. Coffee?”

“Yes. Please. Black.”

Bran poured two cups, handed one to her and parked himself in the easy chair across from her. They both took a sip. He waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he said, “Why would you even be interested in this job? Don’t seem like your kind of thing.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on the dark liquid in her mug.

“Harper?”

Finally she glanced up. “With all due respect, Mr. Turner, you don’t know anything about me. So how would you know if this was my kind of thing?”

Damn. She did have a little fire. “I’ll give you that. And that answers the last part of my question, but not the first. Why do you wanna work as a hired hand?”

“Honestly? Because I’m out of options.” Harper set her mug on the table and rubbed her hands across her skirt. Her tight skirt that’d inched halfway up her thighs the instant she’d primly perched on the edge of his lumpy sofa.

Good Lord. The woman had worn a miniskirt, a silky shirt and hooker boots to apply for a job…as a ranch hand. Didn’t she realize most days she’d be covered in cowshit, mud and hay? Probably not. This would be the shortest “interview” in history. Pity, really. He’d almost like to see what outfit she’d wear to the branding. Images of her rockin’ a red thong, topped with metallic chaps and a teeny bra with strategically placed silver stars and blue fringe popped into his head.

“I went to work this morning at Tan Your Hide and Alice informed me she’s shutting it down.”

“Is that your only job?”

“No, I also work part time at Get Nailed, which is part of Bernice’s Beauty Barn, but that hardly pays the grocery bill. So when Celia called me and heard my tale of woe, she lined this up.” She locked her troubled gaze to his. “Believe me, I had no clue she hadn’t told you that I was the one applying for the job.”

“Have you ever worked on a ranch?”

She shook her head. “That’s why I was suspicious when Celia suggested it. She knows I’m not a ranch kid.”

Silence.

They both said, “Look,” at the same time.

Bran smiled. “Ladies first.”

“I may not have cleaned barns or spread hay, but I have been working since I was twelve years old. I’ve babysat, served fast food, cleaned motel rooms, waitressed, sold clothes in a retail store. I have a great work ethic. I’m not afraid to try new things, nor am I set in my ways on how ranch work should be done, as I suspect other hired hands with experience might be. So if you’re wanting a reliable worker you can train to do things the way you want them done, that would be me.”

“Nice pitch,” he murmured.

Harper blushed.

Oh hell no. Not a blusher. The pretty pink tinge on her cheekbones made him wonder if her whole body flushed that color.

“I don’t want permanent employment,” she said, forcing his thoughts away from the image of her rosy nekkid body rolling around in his flannel sheets.

“Why’s that?”

Harper gave him a sardonic look. “No offense. But I can’t wait to get out of Muddy Gap.”

“Remind me, again, how you ended up in our part of Wyoming?”

“My mother hooked up with some trucker from here when we lived in Montana, so she followed him, once again believing it was true love, which once again, lasted oh, about four months before she kicked him to the curb.”

Tempting, to chuckle, but Bran didn’t think Harper saw the humor in the retelling even now, so he kept quiet.

“Moving again was the dead last thing I needed, since I’d just started my final year of high school. But Mom never cared what any of us wanted. However, she couldn’t force the issue because I’d won a couple of pageant titles which required me to live in the area for the duration of the reigning year.”

“How many titles did you win?”

“Six. Sounds like a lot, but Wyoming can’t boast a big pool of candidates to choose from, so some I won by default.”

That was…humble. And unexpected. He figured with the knockout way she looked, she’d be cocky as hell.

Hadn’t she already pointed out once that you’ve prejudged or maybe misjudged her?

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, as if the rumor mill hadn’t churned the instant the “hot, jailbait blonde” rolled into this sleepy Wyoming town.

“Six years. Longest we’ve stayed anywhere.” She frowned. “Although Mom didn’t make it that long. Anyway, as soon as Bailey graduates from high school, we’re gone. Celia made it sound like your hired man would be back on his feet by then?”

Bran nodded.

“How did he get hurt?”

“A freak accident. A bull stomped on Les’s foot and when he fell, he twisted his body, breaking his hip when he hit the dirt. Never had that happen before.”

“Ouch.” Harper sipped her coffee.

He sent her a challenging look. “But be aware. Accidents happen with the livestock and the equipment all the time. I’ve been kicked damn near every place on my body. I’ve practically ripped my hand off fixin’ fence. Almost lost my arm getting tangled up in a rope with a runaway horse. I’ve nearly been struck by lightning. I’ve been tossed on my ass by a horse. Knocked on my ass by cows and by bulls. Flipped over my ATV. Got my rig stuck in the mud. And in the snow. I’ve been chased by bulls. Chased by cows. Been stung by bees, wasps and hornets. Almost burned up in a wildfire a time or twenty.”

“You trying to scare me off?”

“No, I’m sharin’ the cold hard facts so you know what you’re up against.”

“So you’re considering me for the job?”

Say no. “Possibly. Can you work seven days a week?”

Harper paled a little. “Ah. Sure.”

“It’s only until we’re through the worst of calving. Then it’ll be more normal.”

“Normal being…what?”

“Six in the morning until four in the afternoon.”

“What’s the pay?”

Bran shrugged. “Negotiable.”

“That isn’t a dollar amount. I need a solid number.”

He tossed out a number because he honestly wasn’t sure what Les made. “One hundred dollars a day.”

Her eyes widened. “For how many hours a day?”

Harper wasn’t the pushover he’d imagined. Not that he’d take advantage of her, but it was encouraging she paid attention to details. Maybe she’d be detail oriented on the job too. “A ten hour day. Obviously any hours you logged over forty in a seven-day period you’d get paid time and a half. Paychecks are cut every other week by my accountant.” He drained his coffee. “Is that more or less money than you expected?”

“More.”

Well, well. Miss Half A Dozen Beauty Titles didn’t hedge either. “I ain’t gonna lie. It’s damn hard work.”

“I know.” Harper’s forehead crinkled and he was as fascinated by her coy demeanor as her long sooty eyelashes that brushed her cheek. Those had to be fake, didn’t they?

Bran’s cell phone rang, breaking his contemplation of other parts of Harper that might be fake. “Hello.”

“Thought I’d catch ya nappin’.”

He snorted. “I’m nappin’ just about as much as you are these days, Hank. What’s up?”

“Same old, same old. Lainie wants to know if you’re free for supper tonight.”

“Sure. I’ve always got time for supper with a pretty woman.”

He felt Harper’s curious gaze.

“You are aware I’ll be there too,” Hank said dryly.

“A man can hope against that.” When Hank made a snarling noise, Bran laughed. “What time?”

“Six-ish?”

“I’ll be there. Tell her thanks.” He hung up and looked at Harper.

She set her empty coffee cup on the table and met his gaze. “So, where do we stand on this? Are you gonna give me a shot?”

Bran gave her a head to toe inspection, frowning at her attire. “Be here tomorrow. Six a.m. And for Godsake, leave the pearls, beauty sash, silk shirt, fuck me stiletto boots and tiaras at home. Come dressed ready to get down and dirty with me.”

*********

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