Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel Read Free Page B

job at a T & A sports bar. The lower the cut of her bra, the higher her tips. Truthfully, Harper didn’t know how long she would’ve lasted at that gig. She’d hated dressing in the skimpy uniform the first night. By the end of her two-month mark of jiggling her butt and her boobs for cash, her mother had taken off, forcing Harper to quit both jobs—and community college—to return to Muddy Gap to become Bailey’s legal guardian.
    Over the years, after the fishing hole incident, she’d occasionally run into Bran. He’d never said a whole lot. He just studied her from beneath the brim of his Stetson, looking like the rugged, one hundred percent Wyoming cattleman that he was. They’d both danced at Buckeye Joe’s, but never together. They’d both gone out drinking at Cactus Jack’s in Rawlins, but never together.
    Harper passed the turnoff to the Lawson place and watched the odometer. As soon as the green and orange fish-shaped mailbox appeared, she turned. Although the road was plowed, it was still slick, so she slowed to a crawl.
    The buildings came into view over the next rise. A traditional wooden barn. Alongside it were four metal structures of varying sizes and an old farmhouse that appeared to be abandoned. Off to the left a trailer and two pickups were parked in front of an enormous detached garage.
    Her heart beat faster. This was a real working ranch. This was way out of the realm of her job experience. Out of her comfort zone. What if she couldn’t do it?
    You can do it. You have to. Just a few months and then you’re outta here.
    She parked behind the older pickup and gazed across the yard to the metal structures and the enclosed pens. Did Bran have chickens as well as cattle? Would taking care of those critters be part of her chores?
    Only one way to find out.
    Harper climbed out of the car and scaled the steps of the deck attached to the front of the trailer. Standing on the mud-covered mat, she gathered her courage and knocked.
    The door didn’t immediately open. Just as she was about to knock louder, the handle turned and the door swung inward.
    The stunned expression on Bran Turner’s face might’ve been comical if it hadn’t filled Harper with dread.
    His mouth tightened. His dismissive gaze swept over her as if she’d coated herself in skunk oil. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. You’re my new hired hand?”

Chapter Two

    B ran glared at Harper Masterson, wondering if he’d become the butt of some joke. He said as much to her, steeling himself against the tears he imagined would fill her eyes.
    But her golden brown eyes narrowed. A bit haughtily, in fact. “Celia didn’t tell you I was coming?”
    “Celia told me she’d found me a hired hand. She didn’t say a damn thing about it bein’ you .”
    Harper’s chin shot up. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”
    “I am.” Shit. Not the right thing to say. “Look, I don’t know what Celia told you about this job—”
    “She didn’t tell me anything except to drive out here and talk to you. So here I am.” She pierced him with another lofty look. “Are you conducting the job interview on the porch?”
    He scowled, biting back, “Ain’t gonna be a job interview.” Instead, he stepped away from the doorframe and said, “Might as well come in instead of standing out there freezin’.”
    “Thank you.” Harper wiped the soles of her dominatrix boots and peeled off her pink leopard-print gloves. When she pushed the cowl of her wool coat back, her golden hair stuck up in a million directions, making her seem approachable, not like a goddamn beauty queen.
    A beauty queen. As his hired hand.
    She smoothed her hands over her head, taming the wild strands. Then she jammed them in the front pockets of her fancy velvet suit jacket, with its gold embroidery, and ignored his pointed stare.
    Jesus, she was stunning. A wide face composed of such sharp angles and strong lines shouldn’t look so startlingly