The Ultimate Texas Bachelor. Cathy Gillen Thacker
by me. Then leave. ’Cause I want to talk Lainey into helping me out here.”
Lainey sighed and tore her gaze from Brad’s. “I told you, Lewis. I am not in the market for a job as a housekeeper. I need to be at home with my son this summer.”
Lewis was undaunted. “Your son could come to work with you. Test out new games here at the ranch and at my company’s new facility in Laramie. He’d have a blast!”
It was all Brad could do not to groan as Lainey hesitated, clearly tempted.
“I’m not asking for much. I just need help getting settled,” Lewis continued persuasively. “All of my stuff unpacked and organized, along with Brad’s.”
Lainey tilted her head. “Your moving company should have offered that service.”
“They said they’d unpack it for an extra fee,” Lewis explained. “They also wanted me to tell the workers where to put everything. I couldn’t do that because I don’t know where it goes. I don’t have time to think about stuff like that. Never mind figure out how to get a kitchen put together and all that.”
Lainey looked at Brad as if expecting him to help. “Don’t look at me,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got my hands full trying to get the stable, pastures and barns ready to go.”
Sighing, Lainey turned back to Lewis. “Don’t you have a girlfriend who could help you?”
Lewis flushed beet-red and shook his head.
“What about your little sister or your stepmom?” Lainey insisted.
“They both think he should be doing it himself, and they’re right,” Brad said. “It’s best to be self-sufficient.”
“Spoken like a die-hard bachelor,” she muttered just loud enough for them both to hear.
“The truth is,” Lewis said, “Laurel and Kate probably would help me out, but Brad doesn’t want them around right now. ’Cause they ask too many questions. You know…about how he’s feeling and stuff.”
Brad rubbed his jaw. “I think Lainey Carrington can do without the play-by-play.”
“Well, it’s the truth!” Lewis countered.
Brad’s temper flared. “Sometimes the truth does not need to be told!”
“Sounds like you have a pretty complicated situation,” Lainey told Lewis sympathetically.
“So will you help me out?” he asked eagerly. “I’ll give you one hundred dollars an hour to help me get organized. Because that’s what professional organizers charge. At a few weeks—let’s say three—that would be twelve thousand dollars, give or take. If you decide you want to cook for us, I’ll pay you for that, too.”
To Brad’s chagrin, Lainey seemed intrigued.
Lainey blinked. “What were you planning to pay a housekeeper?”
Lewis shrugged. “If she lived in, fifty thousand, with free room and board. Like I said, I’m planning to make the guest house into the housekeeper’s quarters.”
Lainey cast a look in the direction Lewis was pointing. Her soft lips pursed thoughtfully. “How much room does it have?”
It was all Brad could do not to groan out loud as his brilliant but clueless brother answered. “Eleven hundred square feet—a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, one and a half baths.”
“She already told you no,” Brad interjected, knowing the last thing he needed was a nosy female underfoot. Lewis would be gone all day. It was Brad who would be here at the ranch, dealing with Lainey one-on-one, running into her every time he turned around!
Lainey scowled at Brad. “Excuse me. I don’t believe either of us was talking to you.”
Brad closed the distance between them, not stopping until they were nose to nose. “Well, I am talking to you. And let’s be serious here.” He paused to let his gaze drift over her in an insulting manner before returning to her green eyes. “A woman like you isn’t cut out to live and work on a ranch.” She was clearly pampered and city-chic. She even had pearls and earrings on. No woman on a ranch wore pearls and earrings and suede shoes with the heels and toes cut out. Plus, she had sensational legs! How was he supposed to get any work done when she was walking around in a skirt, showing them off?
Lainey folded her arms and leaned toward him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she scolded him fiercely, oblivious to the way her stance was lifting the soft curves of her breasts. “He isn’t asking me to dig ditches!”
Brad frowned, refusing to let the alluring fragrance of her perfume distract him. With difficulty, he kept his gaze away from the fabric stretched across her breasts. He’d already had one glimpse of her shapely form, he didn’t need another. “Those hands don’t look like they’ve done any hard labor indoors, either,” he continued.
Lainey released a long-suffering sigh. “I use hand cream,” she explained as if to a moron, then turned back to Lewis, all smug self-confidence. “You say I can bring my son to work with me?”
This time Brad did groan out loud.
Lewis perked up. “Heck, yeah. You can even bunk in the guest cottage if you like. That way the two of you wouldn’t have to drive back and forth to—”
“Highland Park.”
Which was, Brad thought, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Dallas.
“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Brad said, figuring the last thing they needed was some small-town-girl-turned-society-mama out here.
Lainey and Lewis turned to Brad. “No one asked you!” they declared in unison.
Lainey said to Lewis, “You understand it would only be for a few weeks?”
Lewis grinned, looking ridiculously slaphappy. “Unless I can talk you and your son into staying on permanently.”
“You don’t even know if she can cook!” Brad practically shouted.
Lewis shrugged. “If she doesn’t, she can learn. Can’t you, Lainey?”
Lainey took a long drink of her soda, then set the can down. “I certainly could. You’ve got a deal, Lewis. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to Highland Park.”
Which still wasn’t saying if she did or did not know how to cook, Brad thought. Which in his view was an absolute necessity, since it was a twenty-minute drive to the nearest restaurant and the appeal of frozen dinners, sandwiches and prepackaged food—the only stuff he and his brother were capable of fixing—was already wearing mighty thin.
“But you’ll be back?” Lewis asked anxiously.
“Oh, yes. Tomorrow.” Lainey stared at Brad, all stubborn defiance. “First thing.”
Chapter Two
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Lainey stared at her sister-in-law, sure she hadn’t heard right.
Bunny Carrington touched a hand to the glossy black chignon at her nape. “Bart and I cannot let you take Petey out to some godforsaken ranch for the next few weeks.”
Bart, Bunny’s henpecked attorney-husband, hadn’t said anything thus far. But that wasn’t surprising to Lainey. According to Lainey’s late husband, Bart had traded away his say in most everything when he agreed to marry Bunny and take her last name of Carrington, instead of have her take his.
Like Lainey, Bart’s roots were decidedly blue-collar. In marrying Bunny, he had married up. And now, twenty years and a pair of twin girls later, he was still letting Bunny run the show.
Lainey sat down on the edge of the plush, ultra-suede sofa in Bunny and Bart’s family room. Through the plate-glass windows,