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“So, why did you leave?” Shorty asked, reminding Carlene of his presence.
“It was time to move on,” she replied noncommittally.
“Leave behind a disgruntled lover?” asked the irrepressible Shorty.
Carlene frowned. It was too near the truth. “I left behind a life that didn’t fit me any longer.”
Win’s expression turned distinctly chilled. “Did that life include a husband? Children?”
“No.” She was inexplicably hurt that he would have such a low opinion of her as to believe she would leave her own children behind, and her voice came out tight. “I’ve never been married.”
His expression didn’t lighten. “Do you do that often?”
“What? Move on?” Was he worried that she would move and leave him in the lurch looking for a housekeeper as Rosa had? “Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of notice when I’m ready to leave.”
His expression turned even more forbidding. “I see.”
She hated it when people used that catch all phrase. It made for lousy communication. For instance, what exactly did Win believe he saw and why had it put him in such a dour mood?
“There’s nothing to see. I’m a responsible employee, Win. I won’t leave you in the lurch.”
“You said when, not if. You’re already planning to leave.”
He didn’t need to make it sound as if she were betraying him. She was just an employee. A housekeeper…a job easy to fill again, as she was testament to. But perhaps she should tell him about her plans to get a teaching position in the fall. She discarded the idea as quickly as it came. This wasn’t exactly a position with a contract and long-range career plans. She would do the job she’d been hired to do as long as she worked for Win Garrison, and she’d do it well.
And she’d give him sufficient notice to find someone else. He couldn’t ask for more than that.
She did say, “I’d have to be a different person to be content with the position of cook and housekeeper for the rest of my life.”
Win nodded, his face blank. “Yes. You would.”
A couple of days later, Carlene was washing up the dishes left over from breakfast when Lonny came in. Once they learned she knew her way around the kitchen, Shorty no longer came up to the house to help. So, she was alone with the stable hand. She pushed the discomfort that thought caused aside. She could handle a young man like Lonny, even if he did have eyes colder than a meat locker.
Determined to take control of the encounter right from the start, she forced a smile to her lips. “If you’re looking for Shorty, he’s down at the stables.”
“I didn’t come to talk to Shorty. I came to talk to you.” Lonny leaned negligently against the counter about a foot from where she stood at the sink.
She put the last plate into the bottom rack of the dishwasher and then closed it. Standing straight, she dried her hands on the kitchen towel she kept by the sink. “What can I do for you?”
Lonny’s smile didn’t travel from his lips to his eyes. Carlene suppressed a shiver.
“I don’t want anything special,” he said.
She knew he was lying. There was purpose along with unmistakable confidence in the younger man’s eyes. Well, that confidence would turn to surprise if he tried anything. He would learn just as her former boss had that Carlene was not, nor would she ever be, easy prey. She was grateful that Lonny had no way of exacting the terrible price that her former principal had for her rejection. At least this time, she could say no without losing her job and her reputation in the process.
She stepped around him to pull down the platter she intended to use for lunch, using it as an excuse to move away from Lonny. She needn’t have bothered. He moved with her.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” she asked with no little exasperation. Really, Win could keep better track of his hands.
“You know the old saying. All work and no play makes Lonny a very dull boy and I’m anything but dull, babe.”
Carlene set the platter down with more force than necessary. “My name is Carlene, not babe.” She took a deep breath to recenter. “And the truth? I am a bit dull. I believe in working when I’m paid to work. I’ve got lunch to prepare and a house to clean, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Lonny moved forward, crowding her against the wall. He put one hand on the wall and the other on her hip, effectively caging her in. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to have a little fun.” He squeezed her hip and she pushed against his chest, but he didn’t move.
Letting his gaze travel down her body, he paused at her breasts hidden behind the big white apron, before moving on. His leer sent her insides churning. She really didn’t want to have to deal with this. “Although, with the way you’re built, I bet you know plenty about fun, don’t you, babe?”
His head came down as if he planned to kiss her.
Enough was enough. Some guys just didn’t comprehend when a woman wasn’t interested. Lonny might be young, but he was old enough to learn this lesson. She’d worn a pair of her more conservative heels today, her body too used to spending hours on heels to be comfortable in her flat sandals.
She was glad she’d done so now. Using the short, but very spiked heel of her shoe, she came down with all her weight on the top of his boot. He grunted and stumbled back a step. Before he could steady himself, she’d curled her fingers into a fist and punched him right below his ribcage just as her self-defense instructor back in Texas had taught her.
Letting out a high-pitched curse that ended on a big oof, he doubled over.
She drew herself to her full five-feet-four-inch height. “I am not anyone’s babe, least of all yours. Do I make myself clear?”
He lifted his head, his arms still curved protectively around his midsection. “Yeah.”
She nodded. Good. “Though I may not be old enough to be your mother, I’m certainly too old to be your anything else. I can’t even be your friend because I don’t offer that kind of trust to idiots who don’t know any better than to make a pass at a co-worker on their boss’s time.”
He glared at her, but he didn’t argue.
“I work for the same man you do and I expect the same respect that you give any of the other hands. Is that understood?”
He finally stood up straight, but his breathing was still a little shallow. “Understood, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”
She let that slide. A man needed some pride, after all.
She had only one final thing to say to him. “As far as how I’m built having anything to do with my ability to have fun, I’m here to tell you that I’ve got all the same parts that other women do. Fun, especially the kind you appear to want, is a state of mind, not body. How I look has nothing to do with it, unless we’re talking how my brain works and then maybe you’d have a clue.”
Lonny nodded and sidled out of the kitchen without further comment.
Win came in the door as Lonny was leaving. “You forget what I told you to do this morning?”
Lonny shook his head. “Just needed to talk to Carlene about something.”
Win looked at Carlene and then back at Lonny. “Anything I need to know about?”
Lonny’s cheeks, which had taken on a slight pallor, turned red. “No, boss. Nothing important.”
Win looked at Carlene. “That true?”
Carlene nodded. “It definitely wasn’t anything important.”
It appeared as if Win wanted to ask more questions, but Lonny was already headed toward the stables. Win stepped completely into the kitchen.
“I’m going into town to pick up some things. Do you want to come along and get groceries?”
She took longer to consider his question than she was sure he expected. She did need groceries. Rosa, the previous housekeeper, had left some things well stocked and some nearly empty. The problem was going to town with Win. She avoided him and the intensity she experienced whenever he was around as much as possible. And after her little dust-up with Lonny, she did not want any more challenges from the male of the species.
He raised a mocking brow. “I didn’t realize it would be such a difficult question.”
She frowned. Why did she get the feeling that he knew exactly why she hesitated? Inexplicably, the thought stung her pride. “That would be fine, Win. Just let me get my purse.”
He shrugged. “You don’t need it. I’ll buy the groceries.”
“Don’t you know that a woman feels naked without her purse?” she asked.
His eyes took on a distinctly disturbing quality and she tensed in preparation for some ribald comment, but none came. He merely said, “My sister’s mentioned that a time or two.”
He led her out to the car and she said, “I didn’t realize that you had a sister. Does she live around here?”
Maybe Carlene had met her.
“No. She and her husband live in Portland.”
Carlene settled into the passenger seat of Win’s midnight-blue Ram pickup and buckled her seat belt. “Oh. What’s her name?”
If he thought she was nosy, he didn’t say so. He started the truck and headed toward the highway. “Leah Branson. Her husband runs Branson Consulting out of Portland. Maybe you’ve heard of it. They get their names in the paper from time to time.”
Carlene searched her memory, but couldn’t remember ever reading about the consulting firm. “No. Sorry.”
“I guess you aren’t real interested in the financial section of the paper?”
She bristled at his condescending tone. “As a matter of fact, no. I like to read human interest stories, not dry articles on the state of the economy.”
She also liked to read popular fiction. She’d been teased at college because of her taste in reading material, but she refused to conform to someone else’s idea of what a French Literature major should want to read.
She realized she was taking easy offense again and sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get defensive.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, honey.”
Now why didn’t Win calling her honey bother her a bit when Lonny calling her babe was like nails scoring a chalkboard?
“You didn’t. Not really. But just because I’m not interested in the financial section of the paper doesn’t mean I’m a bimbo.”
He took his gaze off the road for a few seconds to meet hers. “Does that happen often?”
“What?”
“People think you’re a bimbo.”
“Because I don’t read the stock reports?”
“Because of how you look.”
The man saw too much.
“People assume a lot of things about me based on the way I look.” She joked, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not blonde. I’d have a whole slew of assumptions made about my intelligence based on the color of my hair.”
Win frowned. “Is that why you left Texas? Were too many people judging you based on your looks?”
His insight startled her and she didn’t answer immediately. How much did she want to say? “You could say that,” she hedged.
“I’d rather hear what you have to say about it.”
“I don’t like revisiting my past.”
“Okay.”
His easy agreement should have set her mind at rest, but she had the distinct impression that he was just biding his time. She was almost certain the subject wasn’t closed as far as Win Garrison was concerned.
Looking for something besides herself to discuss, she said, “Tell me more about your sister.”
His expression softened. “She’s five years younger than me. She and Mark have got a couple of real cute kids.”
“Where are your parents?”
His fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I don’t know where our dads are. Mom moved after each divorce and we lost touch. Neither of them were big on visitation rights.”
“And your mom?” she asked.
“She died in a plane crash twelve years ago.”
“Who raised your sister?”
“I did.” He spoke with no inflection in his voice.
“That must have been really hard, taking on the responsibility to raise a teenage sister and losing your mom at the same time.”
“Raising Leah was nothing new. Mom was too busy getting married and divorced to pay much attention to either of us. Leah was my responsibility from the day Mom brought her home from the hospital.” He smiled ruefully. “I still get tied up in knots every time she cries.”
His admission touched something deep inside Carlene. It was so far from something she would have expected him to say. “Divorce is incredibly traumatic for children. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to go through two of them.”
“Four.”
She stared at his profile. “Your mom was married four times?”
“Five. She was divorced four times. I guess modern pop psychologists would say she had a problem with commitment.”
“What happened to her fifth husband?” Carlene knew she was being unforgivably inquisitive, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Hank Garrison died in the plane crash with my mom.”
“You use your stepfather’s name. Did he adopt you?”
Win gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “Nothing so formal. Every time Mom remarried, she insisted Leah and I take her husband’s name. I had more last names growing up than pets.”
