Stroke of Luck Page 2

  “I’d consider this a huge favor. Like I said, I’m willing to pay extra. I have some big decisions to make about the future of the company and your ranch is the perfect place to do it. We’ll need all the cabins you have available.”

  “Cabin nine is out of commission, but I can give you eight cabins, if that will work,” Will had said, reminding himself again that his father and Jack had been good friends growing up. Big Jack had spent a lot of time at the ranch back when he was called Jackie.

  “Great,” Big Jack had said as if it was all settled. “I’ll take cabin eight.” He rattled off which cabin he wanted for each of his employees. Will had taken it all down, not surprised at how hands-on the man was being. “See you soon.”

  “I’ll have a van pick you up at the airport as soon as you call me with your flight plan,” Will had told him, since he could think of no more arguments that might dissuade the man. So they had opened the guest ranch early, with mixed emotions. If it worked out, this retreat would be a great start to the coming season.

  Now Will watched the On the Fly crew headed for their cabins. Their names would be on the outside chalkboard at each cabin. He was sure Big Jack had already told them that since it was something his father had initiated years ago. What surprised him, though, was that none of the guests appeared that happy to be here. He told himself they were probably just tired from the long ride up from the airport. Once they got settled, they would get with the program and lighten up.

  And yet all he could think was that he hoped he hadn’t made a mistake agreeing to this, especially given his hesitation with hiring Poppy to cook and the possibility of a winter storm hitting too close to the ranch and dampening an already glum group.

  He reminded himself that the weather was beautiful right now, that they had a cook coming and that Garrett said Poppy’s food was good; at least Big Jack looked happy as he ushered his straggling few crew members toward the cabins as if they were ducklings. Given how much Big Jack reminded him of his own father, he wondered about Jack’s relationship with his own sons. From the looks on both Lamar’s and Mick’s faces when they’d arrived, Will would say the man might be as difficult to work with as Will’s father had been.

  As he opened the door to greet Big Jack—and he would never admit it to Dorothea—he couldn’t shake the bad feeling that ran the length of his spine.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WILL STERLING. AS Poppy put down the phone, she saw that her hand was shaking. The realization made her laugh. She wasn’t twelve anymore. And Will wasn’t that impossibly good-looking fifteen-year-old cowboy who’d made her younger self swoon.

  She wanted to pinch herself. He’d just offered her something she’d only dreamed of since the day her father drove her away from the Sterling ranch in tears. Will wanted her to cook at the ranch. True, it was only four days, but it still made her light-headed. Was this really happening?

  “Good news?” her friend and only employee, Kara, asked from where she was finishing up a batch of iced cookies for one of their catering jobs.

  Was it good news? For her, absolutely. But not so much for Will. “Interesting news.” She thought about the phone call, telling herself it had been real. Will said he needed her. That he was desperate. That he owed her. All of the words she’d longed to hear in every retribution plot she’d ever dreamed as a girl.

  How ironic was that? After all these years, Will needed her.

  She grinned to herself. “That was Will Sterling. He needs a cook for four days up at his guest ranch in the mountains. He offered me my going rate without even asking what it was and a bonus at the end of the four days.”

  Kara’s eyes widened. “You said yes, didn’t you?”

  Her catering business was just getting wheels under it so it wasn’t as if she ever turned down anything reasonable. Right now, she couldn’t give Kara more than an occasional part-time job and her friend needed more. If the business was going to grow, she would need the full-time help.

  “Can you manage without me for that long?” Poppy asked her. “We have that birthday party and that upcoming luncheon to get ready for.”

  “Boss, it’s a five-year-old’s birthday party with six guests. Since we promised to keep it inexpensive, I think I can handle it. As for the luncheon, I have some ideas I wanted to run past you. I’ll get them down on paper so you can see what I was thinking when you get back.”

  “Perfect.” Kara was a godsend. She could depend on her and didn’t want to lose her to a job with more hours. She’d been growing the business and hated leaving right now. But she couldn’t pass up this opportunity on so many levels. Also it would be good money for a short period of time.

  “So you told him yes?”

  Poppy nodded. She could not help smiling even as she tried to contain her excitement at the prospect of four days at the guest ranch she had loved as a girl. Coming from the Midwest, she’d been enamored by the cluster of weathered old log cabins set back in the pines against the mountainside with their porches and willow rockers.

  But it was the main lodge that had made her eyes pop that first time. She’d never seen such a huge rock fireplace in such an enormous room with its high log ceiling. She hadn’t been able to resist walking around the entire room looking at all the mounted heads of deer, elk and moose. There were paintings of cowboys and Native Americans in headdresses, some signed by the artists themselves. And old spurs and lariats hung on the walls. It reminded her of the old Western movies she’d loved before moving to Montana.

  She had touched the antler lamps and admired the massive ranch kitchen with all its counter space. Even at twelve and a tomboy, she had loved to cook. Back in the lounge, the well-worn leather furniture had looked so comfortable that she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d plopped down in one of the chairs and was running her hands along the warm smooth leather when Will Sterling had found her. She hadn’t thought anyone was home and she’d been itching to see inside, so having never lacked courage, she’d dared enter without permission.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he’d demanded.

  Startled, she’d struggled to get out of the deep comfort of the chair. “I was just...” She had managed to get to her feet and turned. The cutest cowboy she’d ever seen stole any words she might have said. His longish brown hair under his Western hat was dusted with gold as if kissed by the sun. His brown eyes were the color of sweet molasses.

  Dressed in a Western shirt, jeans, boots and a hat that looked a little too large for him, she’d fallen in love at that exact instant.

  “I need to get moving,” she told Kara. “I promised to get up there in a couple of hours and I have to pack. I also want to pick up some supplies.”

  “Supplies? I would think they would have those.”

  Poppy chuckled. “Buckshot Brewster is their usual camp cook. Apparently he broke his leg. To Buckshot, cuisine is a slab of beef and a side of beans.”

  Kara laughed. “Wait a minute. That cowboy you were telling me about who you met when you were twelve—”

  “Will Sterling, the man who just hired me.”

  Her friend raised a brow in concern. “But I thought he broke your heart.”

  Poppy nodded. “Oh, he did.”

  “Wait, I know that look. What are you planning to do?”

  She smiled, eyes narrowing. “If it’s true that the way to a man’s heart is his stomach... Well, then, I plan to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Oh, but she would.

  * * *

  LAMAR HANSON DROPPED his backpack in the bedroom that his brother, Mick, had been assigned at cabin one and went back outside hoping to see his father. He could see Big Jack talking to one of the Sterlings. He groaned inwardly as some of his father’s boisterous words reached him since the cabin he was to share with his brother was the closest to the lodge.
Big Jack was often too much of a blowhard. It was one reason Lamar had done his best to keep his father away from the business recently.

  Now, he found himself wondering again whose idea this “retreat” really had been. He glanced from his father to the row of nine cabins, each set apart from the other with pine trees in between. His twenty-six-year-old brother, Mick, was helping Allison with her luggage in front of cabin four. That was Mick for you, he thought. Always chasing some skirt. Sometimes, Lamar questioned if he wasn’t adopted since he and Mick were nothing alike.

  At thirty-four, he looked the least like his father. His own hair was a reddish blond rather than the fire-engine red of his father’s and his eyes were hazel rather than milky blue.

  Mick was the blond in the family with piercing blue eyes and a slim build. He was the more handsome of the two brothers. But Lamar had gotten both height and intelligence. What his father and brother lacked in business acumen, Lamar made up for in spades. It was the reason he was doing his best to take over the small fly-fishing vest manufacturing company before his father sent them into bankruptcy.

  But that wasn’t his only problem, he thought as he watched Mick. Lamar had known that the twenty-eight-year-old Allison Landon, with her long dark hair, green eyes and baby-doll looks, would be too much of a temptation for Mick. Allison was in charge of invoicing and accounting. Mick was supposed to help by overseeing shipping and inventory, but did as little as possible.

  As Allison’s grating giggle trailed down to him, he considered the others his father had insisted on inviting on this four-day hideaway in the mountains of northwestern Montana. There was Kirk Austin from quality control and shipping, a big, good-looking blond former semi-pro snowboarder, who was watching Mick and Allison with obvious jealousy from cabin six’s front porch.

  Then there was the quiet wallflower, Lexi Raiser, head of the sewing department, trying to wrestle her luggage through the door of cabin five. Dean Donovan, a four-eyed nerd in his midtwenties with dark thinning hair who worked in the stockroom, had gone into the cabin right next door to Lamar, cabin two, seeming to want to distance himself from all of them as quickly as possible.

  The newest hire, Ruby Alder, an attractive, fortysomething brunette graphic designer, who handled advertising, design and graphics, was sitting on the porch of cabin three with a book in her hand, pretending to read. He could tell that she was more interested in Big Jack than the book.

  And last but not least, now ambling out of the van, Channing Palmer, the bored blonde from online ordering and distribution. Channing made no secret that she found all of this amusing. As she passed Lamar’s cabin, she gave him a mocking glance as if he was the only one who didn’t know what this retreat was all about. He didn’t doubt it.

  He groaned inwardly at the thought of this bunch together for four days. Big Jack swore that the employees had been picked at random. So why didn’t Lamar believe that? And if his father really had been the mastermind behind this, what was Big Jack up to?

  CHAPTER THREE

  DOROTHEA HAD JUST finished checking the cabins and was working her way back when she heard the argument break out. She ducked between the cabins out of sight as a busty, brash blonde came flying out of her cabin to accost one of the other guests—a slightly built meek woman with lank brown hair.

  Will had given her a list of the guests with descriptions so she could learn their names before they arrived. It didn’t take much to put a name to Channing Palmer, the blonde.

  “Leave me alone, Channing,” the slighter woman said. Dorothea assumed this had to be Lexi Raiser. Lexi tried to step past the blonde, only to have the woman block her way.

  “You really don’t want to push me, Lexi,” Channing said, glancing toward the lodge to make sure no one was watching.

  Lexi tucked her stringy brown hair behind an ear and avoided Channing’s gaze. “I told you, I don’t want any trouble,” she said in a small voice Dorothea could barely hear.

  “It’s a little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” Channing demanded between gritted teeth.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Both women turned as a third woman appeared. In her forties, Ruby Alder was a good ten to fifteen years older than the other two, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Everything all right, Lexi?” the woman asked.

  “Fine.” Lexi dropped her head, staring at the ground.

  “Butt out, Ruby, this doesn’t have anything to do with you.” But Channing took a step back, allowing Lexi to quickly escape.

  Ruby hadn’t moved. She stood glaring at the blonde until Channing swore and strode off toward her cabin—in the opposite direction Lexi had gone. After a moment, Ruby’s gaze shifted to where Dorothea had been watching, as if the woman had known she’d been there the whole time.

  Their gazes met and Dorothea had the distinct impression that Ruby Alder wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with. But then neither was Channing Palmer.

  As she hurried toward the lodge, she told herself that Will had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. A cook with a broken leg was just the beginning. Something was definitely amiss with these coworkers and she wondered if even a stay at the Sterling Montana Guest Ranch would tame this bunch.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE ARRIVED at the guest ranch, Poppy headed straight to the kitchen and went to work. She knew her way around the ranch from the hours she’d spent there as a girl. The kitchen had been one of her favorite places—that and the horse barn.

  She wasn’t surprised to see that the kitchen had been updated recently with high-end appliances. From what she could see, the rest of the ranch looked exactly the way she remembered it. From the row of cabins, the big barn, the corrals and the lodge with its log furniture in the dining room to the main lounge that she’d loved so as a girl, it was how she’d pictured it over the years.

  Her nerves jangled but she was determined not to let it show. She could do this. Will had handed it to her on a platter. That cocky fifteen-year-old cowboy all grown up was due for a reckoning. She’d caught a glimpse of him down at one of the cabins talking to a guest when she’d arrived. He was tall and slim like he’d been at fifteen. But she didn’t have time to think about how much he might have changed or what it would be like to come face-to-face with him after all these years.

  She knew that the guests would be ready soon for an afternoon snack. Will hadn’t told her about it, probably thinking he would throw out some cheese and crackers and call it good—much like Buckshot would have done if he wasn’t laid up with a broken leg. Poppy had a little something more creative in mind.

  As she moved to the edge of the dining room to look out the window down the row of cabins, she caught glimpses of the eight to ten guests—all adults, most in their twenties. She was surprised that Will had opened this early. It made her wonder what was special about this group.

  She remembered his father saying years ago that they never opened the guest part of the ranch until May because the weather could be too unpredictable up here in the mountains. But she’d heard that Wyatt Sterling had passed away recently and now Will was running the guest ranch on the mountain, while his brothers worked the cattle ranch down in the valley.

  Whatever Will’s reason for opening early, it had certainly played right into her hands, she thought. This small group would be easy.

  Turning to the job at hand, Poppy quickly set the oven at 350 degrees to preheat and put away the food she’d brought in the large walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Then she turned her attention to the afternoon welcoming snack. Since she’d been back, she’d heard about Buckshot’s cooking at the ranch and now smiled to herself. Hers was going to be nothing like the chuckwagon cook’s. Which meant Will was in for a surprise in more than one way.

  As she worked, she tried not to think about that moment when she would have to face the grown-up Will Sterling. Would he see what she was up to? O
r would he think she’d let bygones be bygones? If so, then he hadn’t known her at all.

  After twenty years, there was always the chance that he wouldn’t even remember her. But she remembered him. Hard to forget your first love, especially since it had been unrequited. Just as it was hard to forget your first and last broken heart.

  Since she’d returned to town about six months ago, she’d seen Will a few times—but only from a distance. What she’d heard was that the cute cowboy she’d fallen for as a girl had grown into a drop-dead-handsome cowboy. She’d heard stories about the women who’d tried to lasso him, but all of them had been forced to cut him loose. Will was a wild stallion who wasn’t about to let anyone rein him in. At least, that’s what she’d heard.

  Poppy had never turned down a challenge, although this was going to be a tough one. She told herself not to get cocky. She was taking a risk just coming here. She had to use all her skill and then some if she hoped to accomplish her goal in such a short time.

  She mixed up a few ingredients and popped her creations into the oven and set the timer. Then she looked around the kitchen. Fortunately, she was a fast cook. Also she’d had Kara lend a hand before she’d left town. She felt ready. At least cooking-wise. Heart-wise was another story.

  When she heard the front door slam open and hurried boots thump across the old wood floor through the dining room toward the kitchen, she had to rein in her heart as it took off like a runaway horse.

  * * *

  WILL CAME INTO the lodge on a breath of Montana mountain spring air. He’d been worried that Poppy would change her mind and not show up. It would serve the fifteen-year-old boy he’d been right. The memories he’d dredged up of Poppy since making that frantic call earlier had only left him more worried about having hired her. Maybe it would be the best thing that could happen if she didn’t show up. He could try to find someone else. He and Dorothea could manage tonight without a cook, maybe, and tomorrow...