The Cowboy's Perfect Match. Cathy McdavidЧитать онлайн книгу.
“That’s generous of you to offer.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m afraid the hours aren’t regular. We perform weddings on any given day, including holidays. Most are on weekends, which means you’d probably work Friday through Sunday.”
“Not a problem.” Ryan finished off his fruit, remembering to take smaller bites. “My schedule’s flexible. And I have no place special to be on weekends.”
He caught Bridget casting him another quick glance. How had she interpreted his remark? That he was currently unattached? Well, he was. What about her?
Ryan hadn’t been in a serious relationship for some time and didn’t see it happening now or in the immediate future. Flipping horse properties didn’t allow him to remain in one place very long and most women he met wanted to put down roots. He occasionally dated when the right woman came along—one who was okay with a casual, hanging-out kind of relationship.
Unfortunately, Bridget struck him as a woman with deep, deep roots, being fifth generation and all. Yet another reason to rein in his enthusiasm. Plus, if he got the job she’d be his boss’s granddaughter. Darn if those “keep away” signs weren’t springing up one after the other.
“Starting tonight, we’re having regular hayrides,” Emily said. “In the evenings when the weather’s warm and in the afternoons during winter months. Right now, we’re limiting the hayrides to guests. If they go well, we might open them up to the public. There’s a cookout at the end of each ride.”
“Sounds great.” Ryan glanced at Bridget. She was probably responsible for the food.
“Perhaps you’d like to come along tonight,” Emily suggested.
He returned his attention to her. “I’d like that very much.” Was she offering him the job? He hesitated because he didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion.
“You can ride with Big Jim. He’s our part-time wrangler. Maybe come early and watch him harness the team.”
Ryan finished off his remaining croissant, using the last piece to mop up his strawberry jam. Emily didn’t seem to find him ill-mannered. If anything, she liked his enjoyment of her granddaughter’s food.
“How many horses do you have?” he asked.
“Five. Two for driving and three for trail rides. We’re planning on offering either sixty- or ninety-minute trail rides. Up to twice a day, one couple each ride.”
During their entire conversation, the sound of guests entering the parlor through the front door and helping themselves to the breakfast could be heard. Twice, Bridget carried out a tray or pitcher to replenish the food. In between, she sliced and chopped and mixed and diced.
“I suppose you’d like to know the pay,” Emily said.
The amount she named was fair. The perks were better. Besides breakfast every day, Ryan would get dinner at the cookouts and during any other function when a meal was served. Emily was hoping the ranch could eventually host nonwedding events, like family reunions and corporate parties.
There was also double time on holidays as well as paid sick and vacation days after six months. Altogether, considerably more than Ryan had expected.
If he had an inkling to stay past the sale of his latest ranch-flipping project, a job like this one—with growth potential—would be right up his alley. In the meantime, he’d work hard for the O’Malleys. Everything about the job appealed to him, including his coworkers. One in particular.
“I don’t like to assume, Emily, but are you officially offering me the job?”
She laughed. “Sorry. I should have been clearer. Yes, I am. Nora’s recommendation carries a lot of weight with me. As does Owen’s.”
“You talk to him?”
“Right before you got here. He thinks you’re a straight shooter.”
“I try to be.”
“Am I to assume you’re considering accepting the job?” she asked. “Please take some time to think about it. We’re in a rush but not so much we can’t wait a day or two.”
“I don’t need any time to think about it.” He reached across the table toward Emily. “I accept.”
She shook his hand. “Welcome to Sweetheart Ranch, Ryan. Glad to have you with us.”
He couldn’t stop his gaze from cutting quickly to Bridget. She was openly staring at him.
“There’s some paperwork to sign. Molly will see to that. She’s busy at the moment, though. Meeting with a potential client. She should be free in about an hour.” Emily checked the clock on the wall. “Speaking of which, I have an appointment myself at the bank. Otherwise, I’d take you on a tour of the ranch. You can meet Big Jim and, if you’re not busy, go with him on the honeymoon carriage ride later this morning.”
“I can do that.” Ryan waited for Emily to rise first before pushing to his feet. “What time? I’ll come back.”
“Nonsense. You’re here now. No need to make a second trip.” She turned to her granddaughter. “Bridget, you’ll be finished shortly, won’t you?”
“I still have to deliver brunch to cabin two.”
“Ryan can go with you,” Emily announced. “Then you can take him to the stables and introduce him to Big Jim.”
“I need to clean up the parlor.”
“It’ll keep for a while.”
“An unattended buffet won’t look good. Molly will be showing the potential client around.”
“Molly may want to offer them breakfast. Could be just the ticket to close the sale.”
“The food here is good,” Ryan concurred.
“Grandma... I—” Bridget blew out an expansive breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Great.” The older woman swiped her hands together, clearly pleased with this latest turn of events. “I’ll see you tonight at the hayride, Ryan, if not sooner.”
“Thank you again, Emily, for the opportunity.”
“I have a good feeling about this.”
“Me, too.”
“You can wait here for Bridget.”
He sat down after Emily left through the back door.
From across the kitchen Bridget uttered a sound of distress. It might have been because of whatever she was cooking. She did have the oven door cracked open and was staring inside. It also might have been because of her grandmother forcing Ryan on her.
Unable to help himself, he chuckled softly. Working at Sweetheart Ranch was shaping up to be far better than he’d ever imagined.
“SWEET!” RYAN STOPPED to admire the trim, sleek, fire-engine-red vehicle parked behind the ranch house. “Top speed, how fast can this baby fly?”
Bridget was securing the insulated food container holding brunch for cabin two in the vehicle’s rear bed. She then straightened to give him an exasperated look. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.” Ryan continued his inspection, circling the front of the vehicle and pausing at the passenger side. “Forty-eight-volt motor, right? I bet you can do eighteen easy. Twenty on the downhill.”
“It’s a golf cart.”
“And a beauty at that. Electric. Eco-friendly.” He gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Top-of-the-line and brand-spanking-new.”
“Let’s