Chapter Two

Jovy’s heart fell to her knees. Seriously? Why was she always visited by the bad luck fairy? Her luck sucked. What where the chances that the helpful, attractive cowboy was her miserable landlord?

Good…considering the town had such a small population.

Idiot.

As her face heated and her mind struggled for something to say, the stone-faced Stone swiped his hat from the sidewalk, then straightened and jammed it on his head.

“Not so catty now, are you Ms. Larson?”

“Catty?” She frowned. “I wasn’t catty. I was truthful.”

Anger darkened his handsome features. A clear warning she should shut up. Too bad she never heeded warnings.

She lifted her chin. “Look, I’m sorry. It was rude of me to call you a jackass, but, well, you have been nothing but miserable to me in your emails, and very unfair making me rush to get here and start early. I had to leave with just a handful of clothes and my laptop. I’m from Philly. It’s not ninety freaking degrees in early April in Philly. I had to cut a pair of jeans just so I didn’t roast to death here.”

Her favorite pair. And because she was in a hurry this morning, she cut them crooked, then had to recut to straighten them out. Now they were too short, but it was either air her goods or roast. All it took was a half hour in the Texas furnace to make up her mind. She chose air.

His gaze dropped to her legs, lingering a moment before returning to her face, a spark of heat visible in his tight expression. At least he was human.

So was she. Arousal flared low in her belly. Stupid body.

“Very sorry you were inconvenienced, Ms. Larson,” he drawled. “But it’s not my problem. If you want to rent this space—”

“I do,” she rushed to say.

Jesus, she couldn’t afford to give the place up. Her grandfather had handpicked it. Last thing she needed was to lose the challenge because the cowboy didn’t know how to keep a record of his business transitions.

He folded his arms across his chest and glared. “Then I need the first week’s rent you promised. Now.”

Seriously?

Unable to hold on to her temper, she stepped right up to him, the front of her sneakers pressing into the tips of his boots. “My grandfather already paid you.”

“He paid the security deposit. That’s why I allowed the Realtor to give you the key. He did not pay the first week’s rent.” Big and tall, the cowboy leaned closer, and the scent of heated male, mixed with his spicy aftershave, caused a fluttering in her chest. “Are you calling me a liar?”

She inhaled a sharp breath. Damn, he smelled good. It wasn’t fair. She gave herself a mental shake. “Are you calling my grandfather a liar?”

“If he told you he paid me, then yes, I am,” he replied, his tone calm and collected.

Her grandfather was a righteous and just man. Fair to a fault. Anger rushed through Jovy’s veins so fast, her vision fogged. His word was bankable and law. Everyone at Larson Industries knew that fact. Ross Larson Sr. forgot more about running a business than this cowboy could ever conceive of learning. The lessons he’d taught her over the years were invaluable. She was still learning. Heck, he was still teaching.

Stone’s gaze shifted to her mouth, and his hands lifted toward her arms. For a split second, she got the impression he was going to haul her close and kiss her senseless.

Too late. She was already senseless. Why else would her body be completely on board with that asinine move? Even going so far as to sway closer.

At the last second, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “I suggest you call him and straighten things out. I’ll be at the Beer and Steer until four thirty.”

She glanced through the window of her shop at the coffee cup–shaped clock on the wall leftover from the previous tenant and gasped. “But that’s less than an hour from now.” It was Saturday. If there was some mistake with the check, the only bank in town was closed, and she highly doubted there were any Western Union counters nearby. “How do you expect me to get you cash today?”

“Not my problem,” he replied.

Jerk.

“You’re really starting to live up to that nickname I gave you.” Rudeness wasn’t very smart, but she didn’t care. He sucked the optimistic nature from her being. She was pissed. And turned on. And pissed she was turned on.

“You can insult me all you want, but the clock is still ticking.” With that, he pivoted around and strode away, his cowboy boots clapping down the plank sidewalk in unison with the pounding in her head.

She stared at his retreating form, her mouth open to…what? Sling more insults? Try to reason with him? The man had already proved to be unreasonable, and insulting him was childish and stupid.

Why did he have to be so damn hot?

Her gaze took in the play of muscles rippling across his back under the shirt stretched over sinfully broad shoulders. A narrow waist and lean hips gave way to a great-looking tight butt hugged by a lucky pair of jeans. The guy had made a hell of an entrance, but she had to admit, his exit was equally amazing.

Too bad he had the personality of a rock.

A foreign emotion, akin to remorse, knotted her stomach, making her wish for a do-over. But then common sense kicked in. Why bother? She wasn’t staying. She was going to win the right to run the family company and keep the promise she’d made to her dad when he lay dying of prostate cancer ten years ago.

Jovy could still see the fierce pride and immense relief that had momentarily chased the pain from her father’s features when she told him she’d been accepted as a business major at Temple that fall, and promised to follow her dream—to take over Larson Industries. She wasn’t about to slip up and let her father down now. Not when she was so damn close to bringing her promise to fruition.

Once the cowboy landlord disappeared around the corner, she turned her attention to the fallen ladder and was struggling to carry it inside when he reappeared on a beautiful horse he rode down the street.

Again, not something she saw every day. At least, not in Philly. A blatant reminder she wasn’t back east. She was in Texas. On her own. Her one chance to prove herself.

And she was blowing it. Big-time.

With a grumble, she stowed the ladder in the supply closet and pushed aside her discontent. Anger solved nothing. She headed to the counter in the center of the shop to grab her phone. The cowboy was right. She needed to talk with her grandfather and get the mess straightened out. A smile tugged her lips. She couldn’t wait to shove a copy of the receipt in the grumpy landlord’s face. Her grandfather would have a receipt. No doubt about it. He never made a money transaction without requesting one. Heck, the consummate businessman even demanded one when he bought a hot dog at a Phillies game.

She snatched her phone from where it sat on the counter next to a pile of brightly colored napkins and hit speed dial. Adrenaline rushed through her body at the prospect of marching into the Beer and Steer to hear the handsome jerk apologize. Jovy wasn’t one to gloat, but she didn’t appreciate the man insulting her grandfather.

“Hello, Jovy.” Ross Larson Sr. answered on the first ring. “How’s Texas?”

“Hot.” And not just the weather.

He chuckled, and she could clearly see his head of thick silver hair and a jovial smile crinkle his bright blue eyes, still sharp at the age of seventy-three. “Well, it is farther south than here.”

“True.” She leaned her hip against a display counter the previous tenant had left and began to sort the cloth napkins according to color, thrilled to be able to repurpose a lot of things in the old restaurant. A time and money saver. “Listen, I’m calling to see if you can send me a copy of the receipt you received when you paid the security deposit and first week’s rent on this place you picked out.”

“Sorry, hon. I can’t do that.”

She stilled, along with her pulse. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“I don’t have one.”

Jovy’s heart dropped into her knotted stomach. If Ross Larson Sr. didn’t have a receipt, he had a damn good reason.

This was bad. Very bad.

She drew in a long breath, her heart not wanting to believe what her mind already knew to be true. Her grandfather did it again. This was another lesson. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Always double-check the books. Keep an eye on the account. Never take anything for granted.

She failed all three.

Idiot.

Jovy opened her eyes and shook her head. “You never paid the rent, did you?”

“No. Just the security deposit to get you the key,” he replied, followed by a beat of silence. “This conversation is one you probably should’ve initiated before you left.”

And there was her lesson. “You’re right.”

Shoot. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Her dream was on the line. Breaking her deathbed promise to her father was on the line. All because the damn landlord had thrown a curveball by insisting she arrive early. There was a checklist to starting up a business, and rushing through that list had knocked her off her game.

“I have to put you on hold a second, dear.”

Wallowing in self-disgust, Jovy nodded as if her grandfather could see, and because he couldn’t, she stomped her foot. Twice. Then another two.

She was an idiot. A stupid, dumb idiot. No. A stupid, dumb jackass.

Like her landlord.

It was all S.B. Mitchum’s fault.

Normally, she did everything herself, but because time was of the essence, she’d taken her grandfather up on his offer to help, signed the lease he handed her, and allowed him to take charge of paying the deposit and first week’s rent while she’d scrambled to obtain all her permits and hire a food service manager/cook. This left little time to pack a bag and make arrangements with a friend to send her appropriate clothing, as well as feed her cat and water her plants while she was away.

All right. She closed her eyes and nodded. Technically, it wasn’t Stone’s fault. Running a business was all about dealing with the unexpected, adapting, finding solutions, and moving forward. She opened her eyes as a comforting thought occurred.

Had her grandfather played the same trick on her cousin?

While Jovy had been sent to Texas to sell gluten-free, vegan food to cowboys, her cousin, Ross Larson III, headed to Hawaii to sell snowmobiles. Both were seemingly impossible tasks, but a savvy businessperson could sell anything. And that was the point of the test. Whoever had the best business portfolio after four short weeks would be named the new CEO of Larson Industries, and her grandfather would retire, keeping a seat on the board of the multimillion-dollar pet food distributor.

With their bank accounts frozen, they both had to work and live off their initial start-up and what they made. Considering she didn’t quite have enough in her account to pay all four weeks of rent, Jovy was prepared to drink water and eat lettuce for the month if need be. She’d do whatever it took.

Which didn’t seem like an issue…until now. Extremely grateful to have found a place that had already been a small restaurant and remained set up as such—and would rent to her on a weekly basis—she was trying not to freak the hell out. Her permits were in the window, final inspection and newspaper ads set up for next week, and she’d even met with her cook earlier that morning. Her checklist was complete. Too bad she was nearly late with her first payment and in jeopardy of losing her lease, which in turn would take her out of the running for CEO.

“Okay, I’m back.” Her grandfather’s voice came on the line. “I just got off the phone with the courier. I’m having him bring the rent money to you that you gave me to make the payment.”

Relief eased the stiffness from her shoulders. “Thank you.” At least she didn’t have to dig into what little was left of her start-up money, which she couldn’t access today, anyway.

“He said he’d be there in an hour. I gave him your phone number. He’s going to call when he gets there.”

An hour?

She glanced at the clock. Three forty-six. Damn. Her heart beat heavy in her chest. An hour would be too late. She could only hope the courier would get there sooner.

“All right. Thanks, Grandpa.” She wanted to be mad at him for letting her think he’d made the payment, but she knew it was part of his test. It was her own fault. She was no better at covering her ass than her too-short shorts. “I hope he gets here in time.”

“Me, too, sweetheart. If it’s any conciliation, I still haven’t heard from your cousin, and his rent was due today, too.”

A little spark of hope brightened her mood. Maybe Ross’s landlord wouldn’t contact him until his rent was overdue. Then she’d win automatically and could get the hell out of Dust Bowl, Texas, with its crazy rampaging cows and sexy cowboy landlords who were as unfriendly as their name.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket.

She’d rather not explain to S.B. Mitchum about the contest and her grandfather’s lesson, but with luck, she’d have the cash to pay on time and none of it would matter. Her gaze moved back to the pink-and-green coffee cup–shaped clock. It was going to take a miracle.

Or some sweet-talking.

One thing was certain, at the very least, she owed the cowboy an apology. The irate cowboy she’d called jackass. To his face.

Her sigh echoed around the empty room. Maybe she could distract him with questions about the town and its citizens. After all, she did need to know some particulars in order to convince a bunch of steak lovers to eat at her meatless café.

Remembering his cold expression and the rigid set of his incredible shoulders as he strode away, she shivered and rubbed her bare arms. He wasn’t going to graciously accept her apology. Nope. Not thanks to her smart mouth. But she’d make damn sure he accepted her money, no matter how late it arrived. She had no choice. Losing this challenge was not an option. Especially over a slightly late payment. No way. Not going to happen. Not if she could help it.

After locking the shop door, she headed upstairs to freshen up in the one-bedroom apartment included in the lease. In all fairness, she’d gotten a good deal. A great deal. The apartment was modern and comfortable, and the shop was not only spacious and bright with new light fixtures and a decent floor, it came with a cash register, counter, oven, stove, industrial sink, and refrigerator, considerably cutting down on her startup costs. She only had to spring for dishes and utensils, and tables and chairs, all of which she’d already ordered from a discount wholesaler online. Delivery was set for early next week, which gave her just enough time to slap a fresh coat of paint on the ugly yellow walls and pass final inspection.

At least S.B. Mitchum had okayed the light blue paint choice in one of his emails.

With determination straightening her spine, she entered her apartment and strode through the open floor plan to the bathroom to wash her face and hands. She needed to be calm, cool, and collected for this meeting. Diplomacy was required.

As she reapplied her body mist, Jovy recalled the feel of warm, deliciously callused hands skimming over her skin. Why did her sexy rescuer have to be her pain-in-the-ass landlord? Why couldn’t he have been a simple rancher in town to buy feed or rope or whatever cowboys bought? A guy she could get to know and explore the unexpected attraction that had zinged between them?

She stilled. What was wrong with her? Landlord or not, she had no time for a relationship. What she had was four weeks to work her ass off and win the right to run Larson Industries. Nowhere in her agenda was there time for a liaison, no matter how damn tempting. Besides, she’d already been down the handsome, hard-bodied road. All it had gotten her was a Dear Jane letter and a broken heart when her ex had deployed and fallen for a female soldier overseas.

Jovy had been crushed, but she’d persevered. Never again would she give a man the power to hurt her. Texas was essential to her future. Her business future. Not her heart. She replaced the lid with a snap and set the mist on the counter. Her body was just going to have to forget about the cowboy and his freaking amazing hands.

She had a promise to keep to her father, and by God, she’d keep it. No matter what, Jovy was going to make a sincere admission of guilt, and get Mr. S.B. Mitchum to accept a check until her cash arrived.