Starting Over (Nugget Romance 4) (9 page)

“That’s unsatisfactory,” he said.

“Could we at least try?” She looked inside the suitcase again. “It looks like it’s mostly jeans and sweatshirts.”

The man continued to argue with her, when Mrs. Cole stepped in. “How long would it take?”

“I could have it taken care of right now.” Sam hoped that would appease them because she really didn’t think the Lumber Baron should have to buy the Coles a new wardrobe. Compensating them for the room seemed above and beyond. God, now she was sounding like Nate.

“All right,” Mrs. Cole said. “We’ll have lunch at that place across the square in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cole. Would you like me to get another room ready for you? Or, if you prefer, I could give you directions to the Beary Quaint just down the road.” That would be her revenge. Although she’d never been inside the motor lodge, Sam had driven by enough times to know the place was of a much lower caliber than the Lumber Baron. Shabby, really. Besides, Nate and Maddy didn’t like the Beary Quaint owners. So let them deal with difficult guests.

Mrs. Cole looked at her husband, who gave a slight nod. Apparently, he’d had time to cool off and wanted to stay.

“Great,” Sam said. “We’ll get that ready for you and have your fresh laundry delivered to your new room.”

As soon as they were out the door, Sam called Colin. Besides making stunning furniture, the man could fix anything. He’d been intimately involved in the Lumber Baron’s rehab, so he’d know exactly how to trace the leak. Afterward, she found Loretta, the inn’s head of housekeeping, and gave her the bundle of laundry with instructions to make the Coles’ clothes as shiny and new as if they’d come straight from the factory.

Sam sighed with relief, thinking her troubles were over. Then she found two hundred pounds of cowboy in her lobby.

“L
ucky Rodriguez.” He clutched his cowboy hat in one hand and held out the other to shake Sam’s hand.

“How do you do? I’m Samantha Dunsbury.”

He eyed her up and down, not in a suggestive way but in a way that said
How did a girl like you wind up in a town like this?

Admittedly, she had on a Chanel suit. She wore it in Nugget because no one here would know it was from last spring’s collection. Then those big brown eyes swept the lobby, taking in everything from the stained glass to the mahogany staircase.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This place never looked like this when I lived here.” He continued to gape, then let out a low whistle. “How much this set you back?”

She blinked, because where she came from people weren’t so blunt—especially when it came to money.

“I wouldn’t know, Mr. Rodriguez. But it is lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, and poked his head inside the front parlor. “Wow. You able to fill this joint?”

“You seem surprised.” Sam didn’t want to divulge too much information, but Lucky appeared so genuinely impressed with the restoration that she let it slip that they had very few vacancies.

“Nice,” he said, and wandered into the dining room, checking out the fireplace and the built-ins that Colin had painstakingly stripped of layers of paint and brought back to the original wood grain. Sam knew because she’d seen the before and after pictures.

“Would you like a tour?”

“I would,” he said. “But I was actually hoping to meet with the owner. I take it you’re not the owner.”

“No, Mr. Rodriguez. I’m the Lumber Baron’s event planner. Nate and Maddy Breyer own the inn. Nate’s in San Francisco and Maddy’s on maternity leave. Perhaps I could help you?”

Okay, she was probably overstepping, but curiosity was killing her. Plus, Nate wanted her to do reconnaissance. Hadn’t he asked her to feel out Emily?

“Call me Lucky.”

She nodded, noticing that he wasn’t as tall as he’d seemed in the pictures Harlee had found on the Internet. Maybe five-eleven at the most—and ripped. He was certainly handsome in a rugged kind of way, but not nearly as good-looking as Nate. And why was she comparing them?

“A tour would be great,” he said. “I’m buying some property on the other side of town and was hoping to pick your brains.”

“Oh?” Sam tried to sound nonchalant as she took him through the main floor of the inn.

“You know the old Roland summer camp?” He explored the kitchen with her but seemed more interested in the common rooms.

“I’ve never been there, but I’m familiar with the place.”

“I’m planning to raise rodeo stock.” When she looked at him quizzically, he said, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Connecticut.”

“Connecticut, huh?” He lifted his brows and rubbed the scruff on his chin. “Then let me break it down for you. I’m raising bucking bulls, broncs, and roping steers for rodeos and PBR events.”

“But you ride bulls, right?”

He looked a little taken aback, then flashed a cocky grin. “So you know who I am?”

Busted.
“People talk. They also say you’re opening a dude ranch.”

“I don’t know where they came up with that. Owen, right? The guy never could get a story right.”

“So you’re not opening a dude ranch?”

“Nope. A cowboy camp. For corporate team building and anyone who wants to experience ranch life.”

“How’s a cowboy camp different from a dude ranch?” Because it sounded a lot like a dude ranch to her.

“For one thing we won’t be doing any lame nose-to-tail trail rides. The guests will get to ride bulls, broncs, and wrestle steers.”

She wondered what insurance agency would be crazy enough to give him a policy. “What do you want to know from us? It sounds like you have a good idea of what you want to do, and bull riding is your bailiwick, not ours.” She laughed at the notion.

They climbed the stairs so she could show him one of the vacant rooms—not the one with the leak, of course. He seemed to want to see everything and couldn’t be more complimentary.

“I want to talk to you guys about the lodging end of it. I don’t know fu . . . fudge about running a hotel. I’m even thinking that some of our more finicky participants may prefer better digs than a bunkhouse, and we could work out some kind of a crossover deal.”

“You’re not planning to have private rooms?” Her head was already spinning with ideas—like maybe some of the Lumber Baron guests, especially the event guests, might like to do a day at cowboy camp. This could actually be a boon.

“Nah, not the kind of place I have in mind. I’m looking at something real authentic. At the end of the day, the place will still be a working ranch.”

“You’d have to talk to Nate,” Sam said. “But I think we could probably work something out.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He glanced around room 200 at the antique four-poster bed, crocheted canopy, and thick Aubusson rugs. “They all look like this?”

She showed him the bathroom, which had a vanity with a double sink, spa tub, and a walk-in shower. “Some are even better appointed. And we have a couple of suites on the third floor to accommodate families.”

“How many rooms total?” he asked.

“Twenty. Some of the suites can sleep up to five.”

“Yep,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. “This will work real fine.”

Lucky turned to look at her like he was taking her measure. “You’re the event planner, huh? Maybe you want to moonlight and do a little work for me? I could use help getting this thing off the ground.”

“I don’t think my current employer would appreciate that.” Not to mention that she knew nothing of cowboy camps or bull riding. Then again, she’d known nothing about the hospitality industry until four months ago. “But if Nate likes the idea of us doing business together, I’m sure we could work something out.”

“When will this Nate fellow be around?” He was clearly anxious to get going on the project.

“Later this week. How soon until you open your dude . . . uh, cowboy camp?”

“The property needs work, the bunkhouses are a disaster, and the lodge could use some cleaning. But I have a crew coming in tomorrow. Shouldn’t take too long. My stock’ll be here in a month. I’m hoping to open by summer.”

It seemed rather ambitious to Sam, but clearly he envisioned the camp as a working ranch, not a resort. In that case, maybe he could set up quickly.

“Will you do meals?” If so, they’d be in competition for a chef. Emily wasn’t going to stay on forever at the Lumber Baron and they were having enough trouble finding someone to replace her.

“Three squares a day for the folks who stay. I’ve already got a cookie.” When she looked confused, he said, “That’s a ranch cook—an old buddy of mine. This’ll be the real deal. No fancy California cuisine, no spa treatments, no Sleep Number beds. If our guests want that, then we’ll send them to you.”

“This is just a hypothetical,” Sam said. “But what if our guests wanted to participate in your cowboy camp, but only for a day or a few hours?”

“We could work something out,” he said, and seemed to be examining her shoes. Jimmy Choos. “How long have you lived in Nugget?”

“Less than a year. How come you chose Nugget for your camp?”

“I’m from here, born and raised.” He said it with pride, even got a gleam in his eyes.

Well, why not? Despite the town’s somewhat run-down appearance, Sam thought the Sierra was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. Here a person could breathe.

And just be.

“What brought you here?” he asked.

Apparently he hadn’t read the news clips—didn’t know she was the “runaway bride.” “I was looking for a change and fell in love with the place.” Lucky didn’t probe, which was fine with her.

“I need to get going.” He handed her a business card. “But we’ll be in touch?”

“Absolutely. I’ll call you as soon as Nate gets back.”

 

Two days later, Nate pulled into his garage at Sierra Heights. He’d left the city after six to avoid the evening traffic and stopped near Roseville to get a bite. Five hours on the road, plus a nine-hour work day. He was bone tired.

Once inside the house, Nate switched on a few lights, went into his bedroom, and automatically glanced out his window at Sam’s room. It had become a bad habit.

Her house was dark, which meant she’d turned in for the night. What did he expect? It was after eleven. More important, why did he care? A question he wasn’t prepared to dwell on.

He’d already talked to her on the phone today and gotten caught up on the daily sales numbers, the continuing saga of the leak in room 207, and more about Lucky Rodriguez, who, according to Sam, was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Nate hadn’t even met the guy and already knew he didn’t like him. Although Nate agreed with Sam that Lucky’s dude ranch—cowboy camp—whatever he wanted to call it—could be a license to mint money for the Lumber Baron, he’d have to meet the guy. See if he was on the level.

Nate continued to stare out his window at hers. At one point he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker from a television. He deliberated for few minutes and then said, “Ah, screw it” and opened his bedroom slider to the back deck, hopped over the railing, walked to Sam’s house, and rang her doorbell.

When she didn’t answer, he started to walk away. Epically dumb idea to go there in the first place. Not just because it was late, but he was her freaking boss.

“Nate?”

He turned around to find Sam standing in her doorway in a silky robe that gaped open at the top, showing something lacy as well as a fair amount of cleavage. Her hair was mussed and her face flushed . . . and under the category of dumb ideas this one went into the Hall of Fame.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I just got in and thought I’d check in with you.” At nearly midnight with a hard-on.

God, he needed to start dating someone.

“You want to come in?” She tied the sash tighter around her waist—a waist he could span with his hands—and motioned for Nate to come inside. To temptation.

“I woke you,” he said, looking at his watch. “Damn, I didn’t realize the time. Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I was just reading.” She continued to hold the door open and he went in, hoping that his shirt covered the evidence of his arousal.

“I’ll make some tea,” she said, and wandered toward the kitchen, signaling that he should follow.

And if he thought the robe had given him a nice peek at her breasts, the way it molded to her ass should’ve been outlawed in all fifty states.

“You like chamomile?” She reached into the cupboard to get a box of tea and he watched the silk ride up on her. The woman was killing him.

“Yeah. Sure,” he managed to say, even though he didn’t like tea, and took a seat at the center island.

He watched her hands prepare two cups, hoping that it would keep his mind off the rest of her. But even her long, slender fingers turned him on.

“How was the drive?” she said.

“Fine.” Small talk was good. “What’s going on with the leak?”

“Colin’s pretty sure he fixed it, but we’ll want to watch it for the next couple of days.”

Nate nodded. “You ready for Sacramento?”

“I think so. I picked up the pamphlets from the printer. They’re fabulous.” He’d given her a budget to have event brochures made. “I used a lot of pictures from the wedding and anniversary parties you held at the Lumber Baron last summer.”

“Mmm. That’s good,” Nate said. “What’s going on with the dispute between you and your dad?” Maybe she’d tell him that she’d decided to go back to Connecticut. Then they could have hot sex and not worry about it.

“We’re at a stalemate,” she said, and seemed reluctant to discuss it further. Weird, because she’d been an open book about it the last time.

“You still suing him?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But on further reflection, do I need to further embarrass myself?”

You mean like when you left your fiancé and twelve hundred wedding guests stranded?
But he didn’t go there. “So you’ll let him sell the property?”

“He’s agreed to hold off until we can come to a mutually satisfactory resolution, which means Daddy getting his way.” She obviously felt bad talking about him, because she was quick to add, “He really does love me.”

Nate’s heart broke a little for her, because she seemed so divided on whether to be loyal to her family or to herself.

“Ever since my mother died, he’s been overly needy,” she continued. “It’s not like they had a stellar relationship, but she was the Dunsbury anchor. And now he expects me to be that.”

“What’s your plan?”

“To stay here and keep working at the Lumber Baron.”

Nate highly doubted it. Right now she was going through a rebellious stage. But when the dust cleared, she’d take her rightful place in the family. Families like the Dunsburys, the Kennedys, the Vanderbilts, and of course Kayla’s family, the Cumberlands, weren’t like the rest of Americans, Nate knew. They operated like royals. Princesses didn’t live in the dusty back roads of Nugget, California.

“Just don’t leave us in the lurch, Samantha.” He sipped the repulsive tea she’d made for him.

“Do you ever notice that you call me Samantha when you want to assert your power?”

“You ever notice that your eyes get really blue when you try to challenge me?” he threw back. “Seriously. They go all cobalt and make you look possessed.” Like a sex witch.

She laughed. “Have you been drinking?”

He smiled and held up his teacup. “You put anything in this besides that chamomile crap?”

She reached into the cabinet again, brought down a bottle of brandy, and arched one cinnamon brow.