Stroke of Luck
He’s hoping to bury the past. She’s ready to settle the score.
The Sterling Ranch’s season opening isn’t going so smoothly. With the ranch’s lodge full of guests and a Montana blizzard threatening, Will Sterling needs help—and he needs it fast. So when his childhood friend Poppy Carmichael agrees to lend a hand, he’s grateful for a second chance...and more enticed by the woman she’s become than he cares to admit.
For Poppy, it was supposed to be a retreat full of horse rides and hoedowns—with a side of showing Will what he’s been missing all these years. But as the snow deepens outside, the guests’ suspicion and mistrust turn sinister inside, catching Will and Poppy in the crosshairs.
Weathering the storm in each other’s arms is all too easy for Will and Poppy, but will a confrontation with a killer mean their reunion is short-lived?
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author B.J. Daniels starts her Sterling’s Ranch series off with a bang in this suspenseful story of romance and revenge.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels
“With a surprising villain, a mystery full of twists and turns and engaging characters, Renegade’s Pride is an addictive page-turner.”
—BookPage
“B.J. Daniels has made Cowboy’s Legacy quite a nail-biting, page-turner of a story. Guaranteed to keep you on your toes.”
—Fresh Fiction
“I kept reading until I finished it once I started. It was that good.”
—Night Owl Romance on Cowboy’s Legacy
“Hero’s Return by B.J. Daniels is a creative masterpiece.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Daniels is an expert at combining layered characters, quirky small towns, steamy chemistry and added suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Hero’s Return
“I would recommend this book for anyone who loves mysteries and romance. It is the perfect blend of these two.”
—Night Owl Romance on Hero’s Return
“As per usual, the writing of B.J. Daniels is infectious and compelling... I can honestly say Cowboy’s Redemption is a real page turner.”
—Fresh Fiction
Also available from
B.J. Daniels
and HQN Books
Sterling’s Montana
Stroke of Luck
The Montana Cahills
Renegade’s Pride
Outlaw’s Honor
Cowboy’s Legacy
Cowboy’s Reckoning
Hero’s Return
Rancher’s Dream
Wrangler’s Rescue
The Montana Hamiltons
Wild Horses
Lone Rider
Lucky Shot
Hard Rain
Into Dust
Honor Bound
Beartooth, Montana
Mercy
Atonement
Forsaken
Redemption
Unforgiven
B.J. DANIELS
Stroke of Luck
This book is dedicated to my husband, Parker William Heinlein, who puts love into everything he cooks for me.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
POPPY’S OATMEAL CAKE WITH BROWN SUGAR GLAZE
EASY COCONUT PIE
POPPY’S GUEST RANCH BROWNIES
EXCERPT FROM LUCK OF THE DRAW BY B.J. DANIELS
CHAPTER ONE
“BAD LUCK ALWAYS comes in threes.”
Standing in the large kitchen of the Sterling Montana Guest Ranch, Will Sterling shot the woman an impatient look. “I don’t have time for this right now, Dorothea.”
“Just sayin’,” Dorothea Brand muttered under her breath. The fifty-year-old housekeeper was short and stout with a helmet of dark hair and piercing dark eyes. She’d been part of the fixtures on the ranch since Will and his brothers were kids, which made her invaluable, but also as bossy as an old mother hen.
After the Sterling boys had lost their mother, Dorothea had stepped in. Their father, Wyatt, had continued to run the guest ranch alone and then with the help of his sons until his death last year. For the first time, Will would finally be running the guest ranch without his father calling all the shots. He’d been looking forward to the challenge and to carry on the family business.
But now his cook was laid up with a broken leg? He definitely didn’t like the way the season was starting, Will thought as the housekeeper leaned against the counter, giving him one of her you’re-going-to-regret-this looks as he considered who he could call.
As his brother Garrett brought in a box of supplies from town, Will asked, “Do you know anyone who can cook?”
“What about Poppy Carmichael?” Garrett suggested as he pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator, opened it and took a long drink. “She’s a caterer now.”
Will frowned. “Poppy?” An image appeared of a girl with freckles, braces, skinned knees and reddish brown hair in pigtails. “I haven’t thought of Poppy in years. I thought she moved away.”
“She did, but she came back about six months ago and started a catering business in Whitefish,” Garrett said. “I only know because I ran into her at a party recently. The food was really good, if that helps.”
“Wait, I remember her. Cute kid. Didn’t her father work for the forest service?” their younger brother, Shade, asked as he also came into the kitchen with a box of supplies. He deposited the box inside the large pantry just off the kitchen. “Last box,” he announced, dusting off his hands.
“You remember, Will. Poppy and her dad lived in the old forest service cabin a mile or so from here,” Garrett said, grinning at him. “She used to ride her bike over here and help us with our chores. At least, that was her excuse.”
Will avoided his brother’s gaze. It wasn’t like he’d ever forgotten.
“I just remember the day she decided to ride Lightning,” Shade said. “She climbed up on the corral, and as the horse ran by, she jumped on it!” He shook his head, clearly filled with admiration. “I can’t imagine what she thought she was going to do, riding him bareback.” He laughed. “She stayed on a lot longer than I thought she would. But it’s a wonder she didn’t kill herself. The girl had grit. But I always wondered what had possessed her to do that.”
Garrett laughed and shot another look at Will. “She was trying to impress our brother.”
“That poor little girl was smitten,” Dorothea agreed as she narrowed her dark gaze at Will. “And you, being fifteen and full of yourself, often didn’t give her the time of day. So what could possibly go wrong hiring her to cook for you?”
He groaned. “You a
ren’t making this any easier.” He was already short-staffed. Normally the guest ranch didn’t take guests this early in the season. Late spring and summer were the guest ranch’s busiest times, with a fall season for hunters. But a friend of their father’s had made a special request for Will to open for four days in March.
Big Jack Hanson owned a small fly-fishing vest company outside of La Quinta, California, called On the Fly. Big Jack wanted to hold a retreat for some of his employees at Sterling Montana Guest Ranch, a place from his youth. He’d been uncompromising on when.
Although anxious to get his first season running the guest ranch alone started, Will had tried to talk him out of it, reminding him what the weather could be like this time of the year in the mountains of Montana. Also that they would be short-staffed. Which meant that the guests would be making their own beds each day and taking care of the housekeeping in their cabins. Dorothea would be helping in the kitchen and making sure their guests had everything they needed from daily treats in their cabins to clean towels.
“Sounds perfect,” Big Jack had said. “Won’t hurt them a bit to do for themselves for what time we’re there.”
A charismatic, large man with red hair like a fireplug, blue eyes and a talent for hyperbole, Big Jack had offered to pay extra. “My crew needs this. I need this. You don’t have to roll out the red carpet or go to any trouble.” Spoken like a man who knew nothing about hosting guests. But Will had given in since, at one time, Big Jack had been like family. He knew his father would have wanted him to do whatever was necessary to accommodate Big Jack and his employees.
At the sound of the shuttle van arriving from the airport down in the valley, Will knew he couldn’t be choosy about a cook. His guests would be expecting dinner tonight and since neither he nor Dorothea could do more than boil water...
He called information for Poppy Carmichael’s number and was put right through. The moment she answered, he hesitated, reminding himself of why this was a bad idea on so many levels. He and Poppy had a history—and not a good one. True, it was twenty years ago, but still...
Through the front window, he saw his guests begin to pile out of the van. They were all wearing what appeared to be new matching navy winter jackets with an On the Fly logo on the back and matching stocking caps. They looked tired from the long trek from the airport up into the mountains outside of Whitefish, Montana. They also already looked hungry.
“Poppy?” He cleared his voice. “It’s Will. Will Sterling. Up at the Sterling guest ranch.”
“Will.”
The sound of her voice threw him for a moment. It was soft, refined, his name spoken on almost an amused breath.
He plunged on. “My cook, Buckshot Brewster, broke his leg and I’m desperate, as I have guests arriving as we speak. Is there any way—” Dorothea was shaking her head and mumbling again about bad luck and this whole retreat already being cursed.
“How long?” Poppy said on the other end of the line.
“Four days starting today, Sunday. The guests leave Wednesday afternoon. If there is any way you can fit it into your schedule...”
A soft laugh. “So you need me.” There was a small hesitation before she said, “Right away.”
“Yes! I have nine guests that have to be fed tonight. I’m sorry for such short notice. If you can swing it, I’ll pay your going rate and a bonus at the end of the four days. What do you say? Buckshot brought most of the supplies up already and my brothers just delivered the rest, so I think we have everything you’ll need to cook up here. We have our own supply of beef, bison and elk, and plenty of canned goods. We just need a...cook.”
An amused chuckle. “I see.”
“I would be in your debt.” He squeezed the receiver of the landline in the kitchen. To say that the guest ranch was remote was putting it mildly. There was no TV, no internet, no cell phone service. The lodge had three landline phones with outside access, one of them large and black and possibly original to the ranch. It was located in the lodge lounge. Guests always got a kick out of it since anyone under about thirty had never used a phone with a dial.
“Seriously, I apologize for calling at such late notice,” he said, closing his eyes as he made a wish that this would work out. “I’ll understand if you really can’t do it.” There was no reason this woman would agree to this given the way he’d treated her when they were young.
Another bemused chuckle. “How about I pick up a few things and see you in a couple of hours.”
Will couldn’t believe it, telling himself that no matter what Dorothea said, their luck had changed. He let out a relieved breath. At the back of his mind, though, there remained a sliver of unease about hiring Poppy given their history. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.
He watched his younger brother leave the kitchen to go outside to welcome the guests. Shade was more of a natural at this than either Garrett or himself, Will thought. But it was late March, calving season, so both of his brothers would be returning to the ranch down in the valley today. They’d only stopped up to bring him the supplies Buckshot hadn’t been able to finish delivering himself after he’d broken his leg.
“You’re saving my life,” Will said into the phone.
“What are old friends for?” Poppy replied and disconnected.
He stood for a moment holding the phone, repeating her words in his head and trying to decide if her tone was cause for concern. They had definitely not been old friends—at least, not at the end.
“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked as he finished his water and deposited the plastic bottle in the recycling bin.
Will shook his head. “Poppy. It’s just that I don’t remember leaving things on the best of terms with her before she moved away.”
His brother laughed. “That was twenty years ago! I’m sure she doesn’t remember. She was just a kid.”
He nodded. “A kid with a crush on me. I’m betting I could have handled it better.”
“Seriously?” Garrett said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were fifteen and what was she, twelve?” He shook his head. “It will be fine.” Then he laughed. “Of course, if I’m wrong you just hired a cook who might poison you.” He seemed to think that was a lot more humorous than it was as he left laughing.
Will turned to see Dorothea shaking her head.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he tried to assure her and himself. He’d waited years for his father to step aside and let him run the guest ranch. After his father’s fatal heart attack, he wanted to make him proud. They might have butted heads, but he loved his father and knew that the man only wanted the best for him and his brothers—and the guest ranch. Now, it was up to Will to take over the legacy he’d been left and not screw it up. “I have everything under control.”
“Just keep telling yourself that,” the housekeeper said. “First Buckshot breaks his leg. Now you’ve hired a woman with a grudge against you to cook for us? Can’t wait to see what the third batch of bad luck is going to be. Should be a humdinger.” She glanced out front as if expecting doom to be knocking at the door at any moment.
“Are the cabins ready for our guests?” he asked pointedly.
She sighed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. He’d made sure that the guest ranch’s two wranglers, Slim and Huck, had helped her get the rooms ready. But he didn’t need her telling him about any bad vibes she felt right now. He had enough apprehension over hiring Poppy Carmichael.
“Why don’t I go check the cabins?” she said haughtily.
“Why don’t you?” He headed into the massive living room of the guest ranch. Through the front window, he watched the small group of men and women his age or younger drag their luggage and backpacks from the back of the van.
Near the front of the van, Big Jack Hanson stood talking to his brother Shade. Jack, too, wore the coat and hat with the fly-fishing company logo
like the rest of his crew. Will shook his head. Big Jack never did anything halfway, he thought, and was reminded of his own father. Big Jack and Wyatt Sterling had that in common. He bet the man had bought the gear as a surprise for his employees to wear on this trip and that wearing it had been mandatory. It was something his father would have done.
He pushed thoughts of his father away, feeling guilty. The two of them had disagreed about most everything, but especially running the ranch. It had been like pulling teeth to get his father to make any changes over the years.
“It’s always worked fine doing it this way,” Wyatt Sterling would say. “Worked for my father, worked for me.” He’d been a stubborn man who’d had to be dragged into the twenty-first century. “As long as I’m alive, there won’t be any Wi-Fi up here at the ranch. Our guests come here for what they don’t have at home,” his father had said even as guest numbers had declined over the past few years.
“Times have changed, Dad,” Will had argued. Not that it had done any good.
He shook away the memories. The day was cool but beautiful. The Montana sky was clear blue against the dark green of the pines. A light breeze stirred the boughs with that mountain spring smell Will loved. He would be making a lot of changes to the guest ranch over the next few months and couldn’t wait to get started. Big Jack’s retreat would pay for a lot of those improvements. It was another reason he’d agreed to it.
He could only hope that the weather cooperated. The retreat was only four days. But he’d heard about a storm coming out of Canada in a few days. The On the Fly crew should be gone by then, Will told himself. Not that weather wasn’t unpredictable anytime in Montana—let alone in March. But this one was supposed to miss them and go east before it dropped much snow.
Will had made a point of mentioning the storm when Big Jack had called at the last minute about opening the guest ranch for four days right away.
Big Jack had laughed it off. “Not worried about a little weather.”
Will had started to argue that the weatherman wasn’t talking about a shower. This could turn into a late-winter storm. But the man cut him off.