“SO, MR. Fannin, you say you’re looking for work?”
The temptation to snarl, That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? was huge, but that would be an asshole move, and God knew he needed this job, so he went with “Yes, ma’am.”
“God, that was a stupid question. I’m sorry. I’ve interviewed about a hundred cowboys today, and my head is killing me.” Jerilyn Webb looked vaguely like the wardrobe from Beauty and the Beast somehow, but more deadly.
She sure had Texas lady hair. He smiled at her, nodding easily. “You want a cup of coffee, Miz Webb? It always helps my people when they’re headachey.” He stopped short of saying his mom, even if she and Miz Webb were of an age.
She stared for a second, and then the smile spread across her face. “God yes. Let’s go to the kitchen. I think there are cookies, even.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her to the kitchen, allowing himself a little happy dance when she wasn’t looking. Okay, he didn’t have the job, but damn it, he was doing better than those other hundred, he’d bet.
Kindness first, right? Even if she chose someone else, she’d remember that he wasn’t a dick.
“Have a sit, son. Do you want coffee or a Coke? I have Sprite, Coke Zero, and Dr Pepper. Oh, and iced tea.”
“Coffee please, ma’am. What can I do to help?”
“There’s a plate of cookies on top of the fridge. I have Great Danes, so I have to keep them high.”
“Oh? I didn’t see any dogs. Such pretty animals, Danes.”
“They’re just babies. Eighteen months old. A pair of harlequins.”
“Oh wow. I’m guessing they’re kenneled today?” He pulled down the cookies, which had a towel on them that he didn’t want to lift off and get in trouble.
“Yes. I didn’t want them cooped up all day while I was dealing with this for my nephew.”
He blinked. “Can you tell me a little about who owns the ranch?” He thought that was a real diplomatic way to ask. He’d watched a bunch of YouTube videos on how to do interviews.
“My sister married an Italian count and gave her part of the ranch to her son. He comes in to play cowboy now and again, but I need someone to run the day-to-day operations. Livestock, haying—what have you.”
“Oh, I see.” He didn’t. Bonner couldn’t imagine having that kind of life. He’d had a spring break thing with a European guy once—hot and kinky and wonderful in Padre—but that was the closest he’d come.
His cheeks heated just remembering, and he was glad Miz Webb was making coffee.
“So. I have your resume. Tell me about some of your ranch experience.” She was filling cups and putting out sugar and cream.
Come on, man. Fake it ’til you can make it. “I grew up working different ranches—everything from horses to cattle to pigs and chicken. Then I moved to rodeoing.”
“So you’ve been mostly a rodeo man?” She fastened a sharp look on him, and he had a feeling she knew all his secrets, like how he’d wildly exaggerated his skills without actually lying.
“Lately, yes. Not as many jobs for a working cowboy these days.”
“Rumor is you have a young lady staying with you. A Brianna Fannin?”
“You have a fine network, ma’am.”
“Your wife is fixin’ to have a baby?”
Wife? What?
Oh, wait. Wait, this could be good. If they thought Bri was his wife, he’d maybe get single housing instead of a bunkhouse or something.
“Brianna’s having twins.” He couldn’t call her his wife.
“Oh. Oh! Twins. Aren’t you lucky?”
Right. Lucky. That’s what he was. Fucking lucky duck asshole Fannin.
He bared his teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sat down at the kitchen island with him, sliding a cup of coffee across at him. She stirred cream and sugar into hers, but he kept his black just to keep him alert.
Miz Webb picked up a cookie, then pointed it at him. “All right, Bonner, I’ll tell you what. I think you don’t have the experience to run a ranch this size. Not at all. I also think you’re a little desperate to find a steady, not-rodeo job before the little woman pops out twins.”
“Fair enough. Give me a week to prove myself. You don’t like my work, I’ll leave and you can keep my paycheck.” He managed not to gag around the words.
She nodded slowly, biting off a chunk of cookie, then chewed before she spoke. “Deal. I like you. You’re not a bit smarmy, and you don’t treat me like a doddering granny or a silly woman.”
“No, ma’am. That’s not in my makeup.” He wasn’t a woman hater. Maybe a sister hater sometimes….
“Good. As long as you’re good to the animals and organized, we can get along. I’ll ride you hard until you learn all you need to know.”
“Yes, ma’am. I won’t let you down. You have my word.”
“We’ll see. Now, shake my hand and have a cookie before I show you to the foreman’s house.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held a hand out to shake. “Let’s do this.”
She shook his hand, which sent a pure wave of hope and relief through him. He could do this, and Bri would have a safe, stable place to have babies.
He’d done his job and, well, gotten a job. Go him.