Allie threw an arm around her grandmother, wishing she had a muzzle. “We’ll have to check our workload and get back to you.”
“You was complainin’ last week that you needed a job and things were slower,” Irene fussed. “But I’m not doing one damn thing to help anyone on this ranch after the way Walter acted. You didn’t know him like I did, Allie. What in the hell are we doing here, anyway? Take me home right now.”
“Let me get your things, Miz Miller,” Blake said.
Allie’s eyes followed him as he walked away. He filled out those jeans really well and she could imagine what that tight butt would look like with nothing on it at all. Good lord, she had to get a grip.
“Who’s Walter?” Allie asked.
Irene’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “You just stay away from this ranch. It don’t bring nothing but heartache and pain to anyone who comes around it because no one ever stays. It should be called Hard Luck not Lucky Penny.”
Allie folded Irene’s hand in hers. “Tell me more about Walter and his family. When did they live on this ranch?”
Before Allie could get any more information, Blake came back with Irene’s flamingo boots and her cane, plus an empty trash can to put under the leak. “So, can you ask the carpenter in your family if he’d be interested in a job?”
Irene waggled a finger at him. “No and that is final. We ain’t interested in your leaky roof and I’m not talking about Walter even if you put me in my room and give me nothing but bread and water for a month.” She pulled free from Allie’s hand and stormed out of the house into the rain.
Allie watched as she marched straight to the van, stomping right through the mud puddles. The bottom of her robe was soaked by the time she slung the passenger’s door open and crawled inside.
Blake chuckled. “And to think thirty minutes ago she was trying to talk me into running away to California with her to pick fruit. Someone named Walter must have lived on this ranch and she loved him at one time.”
“Sorry that you had to be Walter, whoever he is, today,” Allie said.
“I wasn’t going to argue with her. Besides I got to meet you. Like Mama says, dark clouds can have silver linings.” He shot her a wicked grin that zinged right through her. “You will check that calendar and have your carpenter give me a call. I’ll get you my number.” He hurried over to the sofa, wrote the number on the bottom edge of a magazine page, and handed it to her.
His fingertips grazed hers and there was definitely a tingle. Sweet Jesus! She had to remind herself that this was the Lucky Penny. Folks came and went on it and no one ever lasted, especially not any sexier than hell cowboys. She straightened herself and put some steel in her spine.
“I’ll call when I check the calendar. And I’ll keep a better eye on Granny. Thanks for calling the feed store.”
“You could call about other things, too…if you wanted,” he drawled.
The glint in his eyes promised some temptation beyond imagining, and the gravel in his voice had an underlying tone of making all her dreams come true. She came close to promising to build him a brand-new house for free from the ground up. Lord, have mercy! He was flirting. Flirting with Allie when she looked like shit in her work clothes with her hair up in a messy ponytail. He was a player for sure, one of those wicked, wild cowboys who got what they wanted with a slow drawl and a sexy strut. He flirted, not because he was interested in Allie, but because it was a way to get a roof on his house.
“I should be going. She’s going to be a handful the rest of the day. Her mind is like a dozen jigsaw puzzles in one box. Who knows what pieces go with what time frame? It’s all a muddle. Thanks again for taking care of her.” Allie opened the screen door and took a step out onto the porch.
Blake leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed—the perfect pose to show off those long legs and broad shoulders. Just the sight had her almost forgetting about her grandmother altogether.
“Well, you’re both welcome here anytime. Pleased to meet you, Allie,” he said.
“Good-bye, Blake.” She jogged through the rain to the van but she could feel the heat of his eyes on her back the whole way.
Chapter Three
Shooter gave Blake a wistful look with his big brown eyes and wagged his tail.
“What?” Blake said. “She has pretty brown eyes, and I need a roof on the house.”
Shooter yipped as if arguing with him.
His mama said that good looks and hard work would get a cowboy far in life but charm would get him anything he wanted. So far she’d been one hundred percent right. Hopefully, the charm would work one more time and then he’d settle down to being a stable rancher.