Wrangled and Tangled (6 page)

An unspoken communication passed between them.

The dark-haired woman Renner called the tyrant leaned against the wall.

Janie stared at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Me’n Tierney were chatting when you called,” Renner answered. “And because she never listens to a fucking thing I tell her, she opted to follow me instead of staying put and handling resort issues, like I asked.”

“If you call the ear-blistering diatribe you treated me to a chat, I shudder to think how an actual conversation with you might go. And you didn’t
ask
me a damn thing. You commanded. Big difference.”

Renner sniped. Tierney sniped back. Abe wondered how much of Janie’s job entailed refereeing.

A guy in a white coat entered the room. He flicked the arguing visitors a perfunctory glance and they both shut up. He tapped on his clipboard. “You’re cleared to leave. No signs of head trauma or internal bleeding. You’ll have a nasty headache and body aches, but the pain meds should make it bearable.” He looked up at her. “Any questions?”

Janie shook her head.

“Got someone who can stay with you tonight?”

“She’ll stay with me,” Abe and Renner said simultaneously.

Tension distorted the air.

“Sort it out. She doesn’t leave until it’s decided, understood?” The doctor ducked out of the room.

Abe tried to reiterate his point as Renner talked over him.

Janie whistled loudly. “Someone just get me back to my place.”

“I’ll take you,” Tierney offered. “I’ll stay with you too.”

“You?” Renner scoffed. “You’d give up the mini princess palace to cool your heels in a trailer? I don’t think so.”

Tierney drilled her index finger into Renner’s chest. “You don’t think at all, which is your problem. I’m staying with Janie tonight. Period. So why don’t you trot your smarmy cowboy self back to the Split Rock to handle any issues that might’ve come up in your absence?”

Renner’s lips flattened into a thin line.

Abe would’ve enjoyed Renner getting his comeuppance if not for Tierney directing her attention to him next. “You can take off too.”

“But—”

“Save it.” Tierney grabbed the pile of clothes on the dresser and pointed to the door. “Move it. Both of you. Leave her be. She needs to rest and won’t get any if you two are peeing circles around her. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.”

“Tierney—”

She gave Janie the stink eye. “No negotiation.” Then her face softened. “I want to help out, okay?”

Janie nodded. And seemed relieved.

Neither man spoke until they stood outside the emergency room doors.

“She’s a tough little thing,” Renner said.

“Janie? Yeah. At least on the outside.” Abe rubbed his jaw. “Just so you know, Deputy McConnell said this wasn’t an accident. Someone hit her car from behind a couple of times. Any idea why anyone would wanna run her off the road?”

Renner’s face remained blank. Too blank. Then his gaze shifted to the back of Abe’s truck. “Are those the boxes Janie was picking up at your place?”

Not a subtle segue and it left Abe uneasy. “Yeah. I was on my way to drop them off when I saw . . .” He cleared the lump from his throat. He doubted he’d ever get that image out of his mind and his immediate, almost paralyzing bone-deep fear he’d lost her. “I need to unload because I have other stuff to haul tomorrow.”

Renner scowled. “I don’t even wanna think about tomorrow being the opening day of the Split Rock and Janie being out of commission.”

No wonder the man was in such a piss-poor mood. “I assume you have keys to the store?” Abe sent Renner a sly look. “Or do you need to ask Tierney for them?”

“Fuck off. I don’t answer to Tierney. Let’s go.”

Chapter Six

T
he opening day of the Split Rock Ranch and Resort was a total cluster-fuck.

They’d forgotten to designate a baggage handler, so Renner was stuck schlepping luggage.

The ice machine went crazy and shot out every cube of ice like a baseball-pitching machine. Then it gave up the ghost entirely in a wire-sizzling pop.

The damper hadn’t been opened in the stone fireplace and the main area of the lodge filled with smoke, forcing the guests to evacuate for two hours.

The second day? Worse. Way worse.

The power went out due to a freak electrical storm.

It began pouring before dawn. It rained so hard the hunting party was called off and the guests were trapped inside the lodge. With nothing to do but drink, play pool, and drink.

Which meant they ran out of beer. And whiskey.

But the awful part? The food. It’d been a nightmare watching the guests’ faces as they were subjected to another lousy evening meal: overcooked roast beef, lumpy mashed potatoes, salty gravy, and undercooked root vegetables.

After the disgruntled guests adjourned to the main room, Tierney sagged against the wall inside the kitchen. Willie and Denise finished cleaning up quickly and got the heck outta Dodge, not that she blamed them. She wished she could retreat to her cabin, because she hadn’t slept in her own bed for two nights.

Renner approached and opened his mouth—probably to growl a command at her—but she held up a hand, warning him off. He rested his shoulders on the wall right next to her. After a few beats of silence, he said, “How’s Janie?”

Janie, for all her bravado at the hospital, took a turn for the worse after she’d returned to her trailer. She’d been downing painkillers and sleeping nearly round the clock to deal with the trauma to her body. So in addition to slapping on a happy face as a hostess and dealing with the shit storm at the Split Rock, Tierney had been playing nursemaid, checking on Janie every couple of hours. Talk about exhausting. “Better, but not ready to come to work yet.”

“Does she know about the last two days?”

Tierney shook her head.

“Good.”

“Are the guests ready to run for the hills yet?”

He rubbed his jaw, in what she recognized as a frustrated move. “Damn close. There’s part of me that’s happy we’re not full on opening week.”

“Well, I hate to bring it up, but Dodie burned the pies. I’ve never seen an apple pie with a black crust.”

“I have. My first wife broiled a frozen pie once. We’re talkin’ flames. Hell, we had to buy a new oven.”

First wife meant he’d been married more than once. No stunner Renner had taken a trip or two down the aisle, but Tierney wasn’t bowled over by the fact he was divorced.

“Any suggestions on what we can offer as dessert?”

“I’m hoping they’re so traumatized by the horrendous meal they won’t want dessert.”

“Or maybe they’re starved and hoping something sweet will fill up the empty spot in their gullets from the shitty supper,” he countered.

“Damn. This sucks.”

“No kiddin’.” He bumped her with his hip. “Come on, brainiac. The food service part is outta my area of expertise.”

It was out of hers too, but someone had to fix it. And since there was no one else to step up, it was trial by fire time. Literally. Tierney checked her watch. “How much time do we have?”

“About an hour.”

She had exactly one dish in her cooking repertoire. “I saw boxes of brownies in the pantry when I was looking for . . .”

“What?”

Tempting to lie, but enough half-truths existed between them. “A hiding place,” she admitted sheepishly.

Renner laughed in that deep, sexy way that made her want to press her mouth to his throat and feel the vibration on her lips.

“Brownies are easy. Add some ice cream and whipped cream, and voila, brownie sundaes.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “What? No sprinkles?”

“I can run to my place and get a jar of sprinkles,” she offered.

“You have your own jar of sprinkles?”

“I have two jars. Everything in life is better with sprinkles.” She peered at him over the top of her glasses. “If you ask if I store my sprinkles next to the rainbows and butterflies in my cupboard, I’ll leave you here all by your smart-ass self to dish up blackened apple pie.”

“Shutting up now.”

Tierney smirked and pushed off the wall.

After she’d mixed, poured, and shoved the pans in the oven, she grabbed the sprinkles from her cabin. While the vanilla ice cream softened, she lined up twelve bowls and dusted them with powdered sugar.
Hah! Take that, Dad. I can too think on my feet.

By the time Renner returned to the kitchen, she was sliding warm brownies into the bowls. “That looks fantastic. Almost like we planned it.”

“We did plan it. Late planning still counts.” She gestured with the can of whipped cream. “Start carrying those out before they melt.”

“Bossy, much?” He frowned. “You’re short a couple.”

“Twelve guests, twelve plates.”

“What about me? Don’t I get to sample your wares?”

Heat stained her cheeks. But she doubted he’d meant that as a sexually suggestive comment, especially toward her. “Got a sweet tooth?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He lifted the first two bowls and winked at her on his way out the door.

Once the guests were served, Renner positioned himself against the steel prep counter with his black cowboy boots crossed at the ankle. He should’ve looked ridiculous, holding the delicate gold-rimmed dessert plate with his large, scarred hands, but he was completely at ease. “You got raves out there.” He took a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. “I prefer my brownies more cakelike than chewy. And you were awful damn stingy with my sprinkles, but besides that, it’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated.

He offered her a roguish grin. “Just funnin’ with ya, Tierney. I’m afraid if Dodie doesn’t pull her head out of her”—he stopped and amended—“if Dodie can’t pull off consistently good cooking, you might be called in for KP duty.”

“It’s a one-time-only offer.”

Renner scrutinized her face and set down his plate.

“What?” she said testily.

“Lickin’ the bowl, were you?”

When he reached out to touch her cheek, she flinched.

“For Christsake. I’m not gonna punch you. Hold still. There’s brownie batter on your face.” Renner curled his fingers around her neck and rubbed her jawline with the pad of his thumb.

Her heart rate spiked. His fingers were so warm, so rough against her damp skin. His tender touch sent a shiver through her. Was it pure insanity to imagine Renner replacing his thumb with his mouth as he slowly, thoroughly licked the brownie batter away and grazed his lips down her jawbone to capture her lips with his?

Yes, it is insanity. You don’t like this man. Do not close your eyes and pretend you’re enjoying this.

But she did relish his attention. She raised her gaze to his, but his focus was entirely on her mouth. When Tierney moistened her lips, he dropped his hand and scrambled back.

“Ah. I think I got it all, but you might wanna check.”

“Will do.” Tierney needed to escape from his über-masculine presence, so she snatched the suit jacket she’d draped on the prep stool and headed to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He called out, “Tierney. Wait,” when her hand gripped the door handle.

She turned and Renner was a foot away.

“Thanks for pitching in the past two days. We would’ve been screwed without your help. I know we have our differences, but it’ll take all of us pulling together to make this place work.”

“I agree.”

Renner flashed that swoon-worthy smile. “So, how about a . . . truce?”

“Truce.” She smiled as cagily as he did. “At least until you piss me off.”

Chapter Seven

T
he truce lasted all of thirty-six hours.

Tierney froze in the doorway of the office—an office that’d been tidy when she’d left it the previous evening. Now the space looked as if it’d been ransacked by raccoons.

Papers strewn across the coffee table. A disemboweled printer, the spent ink cartridge next to a pair of greasy pliers and a screwdriver, teetered on the edge of the table.

She crossed to the sitting area, picking up a fleece blanket. Beneath it was a decorative tasseled pillow from the guest sofa downstairs. She studied the paisley pattern. Was it her imagination or was there a drool stain? She sniffed it. Smelled like coffee. Better than bourbon, she supposed.

Renner had left his laptop charging, a fact she’d discovered after tripping over the cord in the middle of the floor. A pair of gray athletic socks peeked out of a gap in the cushions—cushions that were askew indicating he’d slept here last night.

He’d made himself coffee, evidenced by the grounds scattered all over the coffee station. Also evidenced by the Styrofoam cups everywhere—next to the fax machine, her printer, her computer. Her eyes narrowed. Hey. Wait a second. What had he been doing in her private area? Were those . . . boot prints on the edge of her desk?