Fannin's Flame. Tina Leonard
She laughed. “Oh, that’s a new one. Why don’t you just say you need a date?”
She seated herself in the chair to read the rest of the request. From everything her mother had told her, the wild boys of Malfunction Junction did not have to go hunting for women. Women knocked those boys over any chance they could. Her mother had mentioned thongs in the mailbox and bras hanging off the front doorknob, all inscribed with phone numbers, names or addresses.
“Attractive, understanding, somewhat petite female,” she read. “Mr. Jefferson, you are obviously way too proud of yourself. You want to order the moon to spec, and say it’s a job. Then you can fire my employee when she doesn’t meet your lofty requirements.”
No one would describe Kelly as attractive or petite. She had her mother’s German genes, which showed in her robustness, and her Irish father’s red hair, neither of which brought men running to her side.
“Needs to have a good sense of humor,” she read out loud. Blinking, she thought about all the women the agency had on file: mothers, secretaries, teachers, even a mathematician. It wouldn’t be hard to find someone dainty for him, even though the agency’s matchmaking file was small. Yet it wouldn’t be fair to send the women out on a false lead to a persnickety, overimpressed-with-himself cowboy who maybe had no intention of being any nicer to his “assistant” than he was to Kelly’s mother.
“Mr. Smooth Operator,” she murmured. “Ordering Dream Date Barbie so you can send her back after you’ve looked under her skirt. No, I don’t think so, Lascivious Ken.”
Maybe Kelly would go there herself.
She knew her mother was homesick. She had been worried enough to threaten to come visit the ranch and slap those wily cowboys into line herself if they didn’t start appreciating Helga. It hurt Kelly’s feelings that her mother was sad, especially during the Christmas season. A job was a job, but her mother had been at the Jefferson household for nearly a year now.
“My mother has a heart of gold,” Kelly said, peering into her oversize purse. “Those cowpokes ought to know that by now. Obviously, they’re not too bright. Isn’t that right, Joy?”
Kelly pulled out her very red, very opinionated teacup poodle, a sweet baby who had bonded with Kelly instantly upon the dog’s rescue from the local animal shelter.
“Miss Joy,” Kelly said, “what do you think about a road trip to visit Grandma?”
Joy quivered in her hands. Kelly adjusted the poodle’s little sweater and fake-diamond collar as she thought about Fannin’s request.
“It’s only one night,” Kelly said to the poodle. “There’s nothing on our dance card for tonight or tomorrow. Mama’s homesick, and we can cheer her up. And it wouldn’t hurt this ornery cowboy too much if his order isn’t exactly fit-to-fill. We just won’t charge him while we teach him to mind his manners better where your grandma is concerned. Or better yet, we could double bill him! He’d deserve it, the rat, even though Julia wouldn’t allow it.”
Joy licked Kelly’s hand. No crime was being committed if every tiny detail wasn’t perfect for Fannin Jefferson.
Kelly reread the e-mail. “Good sense of humor,” she repeated, switching off the computer and getting up from the chair. She turned out the lights. “Gee, cowboy, hope you don’t mind a little joke being played on you.”
“I’VE THOUGHT OF A WAY to get rid of Helga,” Archer said smoothly. “This is so easy we should have thought of it before.”
“Mason likes her. At least she keeps him reasonably happy. For years, we’ve dreamed of him getting off our cases. What’s the point of changing a good thing?” Calhoun asked.
“We could have a new housekeeper. We could talk one of the Union Junction Salon girls into coming over here to work for us,” Navarro said reasonably.
“Yeah,” Bandera agreed, flipping some cards onto the table. “Give me an ace out of the deck, Last.”
“May I just point out that whatever you do to Helga will adversely affect Mimi,” Last said. The youngest brother, he was prone to clear thinking at times and steering his brothers on many occasions. “Mimi needs help with her dad. The sheriff hasn’t improved in months.”
“Mimi’s happily pregnant,” Crockett pointed out. “I mean, have you seen the size of her lately? She looks like she swallowed the Great Pumpkin. Marriage clearly agrees with her.”
“I dunno,” Last said. “I don’t think she’s all that happy.”
The brothers stared at him.
“Then let Mimi hire Helga, since Mimi hired Helga for us in the first place,” Archer said, annoyed. “That’s the proper thing to do, and it was what I was going to suggest. Mimi needs Helga more than we do. Mimi sneakily hired Helga in here to keep Mason occupied. But now Mimi’s married, so Mason is free to shake loose of those shackles. I say this is the right solution for everyone. And I want to get up in the morning and look at a face that’s young and beautiful and smiling. Instead of scouring me.”
“Scouring you?” Bandera asked. “Do you mean souring you?”
“No. I mean scouring me. I put my elbows on the table and she scours me with her eyes. I put my feet on the coffee table, she scours me. I leave clothes lying on the floor in my room, and she scours me. It’s like being assaulted daily by a Brillo pad.”
“She doesn’t have to clean our houses, just Mason’s,” Calhoun pointed out. “She doesn’t have to take care of anyone except Mason, since he’s really the one who wants her.”
“Archer has a good theory,” Last said slowly. “I never thought of it before, but with four less of us on the ranch, we don’t need as much help as we did. Mimi’s got her sick dad and a baby on the way. We could offer Helga’s services to the Cannadys.”
Archer sighed with relief. “I just knew you’d see it my way.”
Fannin walked in, tossing his hat on the table.
“Any luck?” Last asked him. “Call out the harpist yet to serenade the hooved lovers with romantic music?”
“Shut up,” Fannin demanded.
“We’ve got a plan we need your vote on, ornery one,” Bandera said. “How would you feel about us giving Helga to Mimi as a baby gift?”
Fannin grinned. “Now that’s the first positive thing y’all have said all day. The sooner the better!”
He fixed himself some lunch, feeling much better about life in general. The phone rang in the kitchen. “Fannin Jefferson,” he said.
A soft voice said, “Mr. Jefferson? This is the Honey-Do Agency calling to confirm and fill your order.”
He scrambled with the phone, the sandwich he’d fixed and a notepad into the farthest corner of the kitchen so his nosy brothers couldn’t hear. The minute they realized he was trying to have a private conversation, they grouped around him, listening.
“Do you mind?” he demanded of them.
“Mr. Jefferson?” the voice asked.
He couldn’t help noticing that the voice was sweet. But confident. “Just a moment, please. I’m having some interference here.”
“I’m on a cell phone,” the sweet voice said. “I’m afraid the line is breaking up. Can you meet your date in town, to help her get to the ranch?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “How about we meet at Lampy’s Bar on the square?”
“I’ll tell her,” the voice said. “Nine o’clock all right?”
“It’s fine.” He shooed his brothers away. “Um, does that mean that tonight is the one night she’s going to be my personal companion?”