Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel Read Free

now?”
    She sighed dramatically. “Fine. I totally understand that you don’t trust me. I’m a little hurt that you think I’d take advantage of you to somehow benefit myself.”
    “Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll get over that sting of hurt,” he drawled. “I’ve no doubt whatever scheme you’re up to will have some added benefit for you. So why don’t you quit playing the part of the insulted maiden and tell me what’s what.”
    “You know . . . I don’t think I will tell you that I found you a hired hand, Mr. Smart-ass.”
    That made him sit up and take notice. “No joke?”
    “No joke. I swear. That’s why I called you.”
    “Where’d you find him?”
    “Don’t you worry about that. Drop your cock and grab your socks, Bran. Your new hired hand will be on your front stoop within the hour.” The phone went dead.
    Bran glared at his cell phone. “Son of a bitch. When I get my hands on that girl, I’ll . . .”
    You ain’t gonna do jack shit, hoss. You’re gonna get your ass in the shower, brew a pot of coffee, and wake the hell up.
    Still cursing, Bran threw back the covers and stumbled down the hallway to his bathroom.

    Harper pounced on the phone the second it rang. “Celia?”
    “Good news! I found you a job, right outside of Muddy Gap. It might have funky hours the first few weeks, but after that it should level off. It pays well.”
    “Okay,” she said slowly. “What’s the catch?”
    “No catch. You’ll be workin’ on a ranch.”
    “What will I be doing?”
    “Whatever Bran tells you to do.”
    Harper froze. Her mouth went bone-dry. “Bran. As in Bran Turner?”
    “Yep. He’s a longtime family friend, his hired hand got injured, and he’s needing temporary help.”
    Skeptically, Harper asked, “How’d the guy get injured?”
    “I dunno. Between us, Les is not that bright. I think he tripped over his own two feet. Anyway, he’s out of commission until the end of May, which fits into your time frame perfectly.”
    “Too perfectly. You sure this isn’t some kind of romantic fix-up?”
    Celia laughed. “You and Bran? Please. You are so not his type. And vice versa. This is just me helping out two friends who need something from each other.”
    Harper stopped pacing. “Bran’s okay with this?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the real question: Does Bran know I have zero experience with livestock and anything else related to ranching?
    “I just got off the phone with him. He’s expecting you in about forty-five minutes.” Pause. “You know where he lives?”
    “No clue.”
    “Three miles past the turnoff to my house, there’s a fish-shaped mailbox. Turn right at the cattle guard and go a quarter mile until you see his trailer. He keeps the road plowed. That’s how you’ll know you’re in the right place.”
    “Got it.” Harper closed her eyes. “Thanks, Celia. Even if this doesn’t work out, you have no idea how much it means that you’ve gone out of your way to try to help me. Everyone else . . .” Has made me pay for my mother’s mistakes.
    “That’s what friends do, dumb ass. And you’re welcome. Now get crackin’ out to Bran’s place. Let me know next week how it goes.”
    “Next week? Why can’t I call you later tonight?”
    “Because Tanna’s folks’ ranch is out in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. I don’t know when I’ll have cell service, so it’ll be best if I call you. Later. Good luck.”
    “What does luck . . .” And Harper was speaking to the dial tone.
    No matter. It’d take a solid thirty minutes to drive out to the Turner place, so she’d better get a move on. She changed into her “lucky” interview outfit—a pin-striped pencil miniskirt, a white silk blouse, a Western-cut bolero jacket embroidered with tiny gold guns, and her black patent stiletto boots, which came up just over her knees.
    The Dodge Neon didn’t warm up until ten minutes into the drive. January in Wyoming was always cold, but this year seemed colder