Stroke of Luck Read online

  As he’d finished making sure his guests had all found their cabins, he’d seen a newer model SUV he didn’t recognize parked next to the main lodge.

  Poppy?

  For a moment, he’d hesitated. Was he really that worried about seeing her again after all these years? After the way he’d left things twenty years ago? Why wouldn’t he be?

  He tried to convince himself that Garrett was right. Poppy probably didn’t even remember. At least, he hoped not. He thought of her young tears and then quickly pushed the image away. It was just a silly little-girl crush. After she’d moved away from Montana, she’d probably fallen for a neighborhood boy and completely forgotten him within minutes of unpacking. She might even be married or have a fiancé or steady boyfriend. He tried to tell himself he was making too much out of a summer years ago.

  Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been something in her voice on the phone...

  He braced himself as he headed for the kitchen. The past be damned, he had guests. That meant that they needed to be fed. In less than thirty minutes they would be coming up to the lodge for drinks and an afternoon snack—not to mention a dinner later this evening. Will had to make sure all of that was going to happen. He refused to think about what he would do if Poppy couldn’t handle the job—or changed her mind when she saw him. Or hit him with a frying pan.

  Will strode into the kitchen, ready to do whatever he had to. Even if he had to grovel to get a meal on the table tonight.

  What he saw made him stop in his tracks. The slim, graceful-looking woman standing at the sink couldn’t possibly be the girl he’d known. Maybe she’d sent one of her staff ahead—if she had staff. “Poppy?”

  She turned. His jaw dropped. Gone were the pigtails and the braces. Her hair, now a deep mahogany brown, was still long and curly. She’d pulled it back in a low ponytail, which only accented her high cheekbones even more. And those eyes. He remembered them as being green. They were clear tropical seas with just enough gold in them to make him want to dig for treasure. She still had the freckles but now they only added to her beauty since she wore little makeup. She didn’t need it. There was something so poised and confident about her. It was as if she’d walked into his kitchen and had made it her own.

  “Hello, Will.”

  He told himself to close his mouth. He’d never been at a loss for words around women. It was from growing up around female guests his whole life. But his throat had gone dry and the floor under him suddenly seemed not nearly as stable as he remembered it. He swallowed, not sure what would come out when he spoke.

  “Poppy, I didn’t... I... You’ve changed.”

  Her laugh was musical. “So have you. Amazing what twenty years can do.” Her smile lit up the already bright sunny kitchen.

  He couldn’t help being suspicious. Not that all cooks had to look like Buckshot, but... “And you cook?”

  She looked amused. “Isn’t that why you hired me?”

  At that moment, he wouldn’t have sworn to anything. He hadn’t been expecting this. He’d been expecting that awkward kid he remembered only grown up into a woman who might have carried some old bad feelings against him.

  He thought about what Dorothea had warned him about. Normally, he would have scoffed, but... “Look, if there is any reason why you feel you can’t or don’t want to work for me—”

  “What could there possibly be?”

  He blinked. Had she just batted those big innocent green eyes at him? He swore silently. Dorothea was right. Poppy hadn’t forgotten when they were kids. No way. If anything, she must have loved it when she got the call from him.

  “Then I guess there’s no problem,” he said. He was in big trouble. “There was something else I was going to ask you.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

  “You were going to ask me if I was ready with an afternoon snack?” she suggested, a glint of laughter in those seaworthy eyes.

  He nodded, used to feeling sure-footed around women. Usually, he was the one who made them uneasy. But this one... Was it because they had a history, one he’d hoped she’d forgotten? Or had he met his match in Poppy Carmichael?

  “Yes, snack,” he said. “Buckshot usually serves—”

  “I’ve changed his menu a little. I hope you’ll be pleased.” She glanced at the sleek silver-banded watch on her slim wrist. “Twenty minutes in the main lodge?”

  Will nodded, turning to leave, and promptly bumped into the island counter in a kitchen he knew like the back of his hand. “It seems you have everything under control,” he said and cleared his voice. “Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.” This was going to be a disaster. He told himself it was only four days. How much harm could she do in four days?

  * * *

  POPPY WATCHED HIM GO. She relaxed her body and took a breath. Her pulse was pounding. Will Sterling. She’d thought she’d been ready for him. It had taken all of her composure. He was even more handsome close up. His brown hair still had those strands of gold interwoven through it—and it was still unruly when he removed his Stetson. His brown eyes edged by dark lashes were still warm molasses, with a hint of honey she hadn’t noticed at twelve. His sensual mouth softened the strong jaw.

  There was no doubt that he wasn’t that fifteen-year-old anymore. Will was now all man. And all cowboy—just as she’d known he would grow into all those years ago. Still, he had taken her breath away.

  First love, she thought with a curse as she put a hand over her patched-up heart. Did the ache never go away?

  As her pulse began to slow, she told herself that taking this job could have been a mistake. How was she going to be able to bear seeing Will every day for four long days? What had she hoped to accomplish by agreeing to this?

  But as she steadied herself on her feet, her courage and resolve returned. She could do this. She would do this. Will Sterling deserved it. At least, his fifteen-year-old self did. Anyway, it sounded like the cowboy playboy hadn’t changed all that much since he’d already left a trail of broken hearts in town.

  No, she would not weaken. She would have him eating out of her hand, she would steal his heart and then she would—

  “Well, well,” said a deep female voice from behind her, making her jump.

  Poppy spun around to find Dorothea standing with hands on hips glaring at her. “Hello, Dorothea.”

  The woman laughed. “Just look at you.” She shook her head. “Dear Lord, we are in for it, aren’t we?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t give me that innocent look. I see right through you.”

  “I can’t imagine what you mean.” She was surprised how little Dorothea had changed—including how outspoken she’d been. The only sign of the years that had passed was a streak of gray in the older woman’s hair.

  “First Buckshot breaks his leg and then you show up. Going to tell me that you had nothing to do with that?”

  “With Buckshot breaking his leg?”

  “You put the whammy on him, didn’t you, you little minx?”

  Poppy laughed. Dorothea, who’d been about thirty when Poppy had last seen her, was crazier than she remembered. She’d never taken the woman seriously, not when Dorothea was always threatening to put curses on guests she didn’t like.

  When Poppy, at twelve, had been skeptical of Dorothea’s ability to actually put curses on people, the woman had said, “My mother was a witch and she taught me some of her spells. So you’d better watch it, young’un, or I’m turnin’ you into a frog.”

  Poppy was no longer worried about being turned into a frog. “I didn’t put a whammy on Buckshot. I’m only helping out for a few days.”

  “Sure you are,” Dorothea said suspiciously. She narrowed her dark eyes threateningly. “I remember the crush you had on him. A girl doesn’t get over that kind o
f starstruck young love easily. Just remember, I’ll be watching you.”

  The timer went off on the oven. “Would you like to know what I’m making for the afternoon snack?” Poppy asked as she turned away to pull a tray of bite-size meatballs from the oven. When she turned back, Dorothea was gone.

  * * *

  WILL MADE SURE that Dorothea had the bar ready for their guests before he looked around for her. She’d been acting stranger than usual today. He was used to her sneaking around, checking everyone out, getting the lay of the land as she called it. Most people paid her no mind, but as he spotted her in front of the cabins, he saw Big Jack call to her. He seemed to be asking for directions. She pointed toward the large old barn down the mountainside. He nodded before turning away from her and started up the slope from the cabins toward the main lodge.

  It was no wonder Will was feeling anxious, he told himself. He was still shaken after seeing Poppy all these years later. She was nothing like he’d expected and that worried him on a couple of levels. What if she couldn’t cook? Garrett had said she owned her own catering company and the food at the party he’d attended was good. But what if she hadn’t been the one to cook it?

  On another level, he’d been taken aback by how attractive Poppy was—and his reaction to her. Hell, he’d been tongue-tied. He hadn’t been tongue-tied around a girl since he was a boy. That thought did nothing to alleviate his concern.

  He tried to relax. It was only for four days. He would be busy with the guests. He probably wouldn’t even see much of Poppy. That made him feel a little better.

  But still he realized that he wasn’t normally this apprehensive about new guests. This was different, though, because it wasn’t just any guest. It was Big Jack. Also these were his first guests since taking over the running of the guest ranch. He felt like a lot was riding on these four days. He wanted things to go smoothly, he thought as he stepped out front and rang the large dinner bell to call everyone up to the lodge.

  Back inside, he watched the guests begin to make their way up the slope to the main lodge. He hoped Poppy had heard the bell and was getting the snacks ready. He couldn’t help being antsy. It didn’t help when Dorothea came in muttering about feeling as if there was a curse on the guest ranch.

  “I forgot about the water leak in cabin nine,” she said, nodding as if her prediction had come true. “First the water leak, then Buckshot tripping over himself and now that lady in the kitchen plotting revenge. Tell me bad luck doesn’t come in threes.”

  “Don’t have time for this, Dorothea.” He stepped away from her and saw Big Jack hanging back to talk to his oldest son as the others began to stream in. From their body language he could see the tension between the father and son. And what was that Dorothea had said about the lady in the kitchen plotting revenge?

  He told himself this wasn’t the time to start listening to Dorothea. He began to put names to the faces. Since his father took over the guest ranch, he’d insisted that the groups be small and that everyone who worked at the ranch knew the guests’ first names and something about what they did. He wanted them to feel at home and believed in the personal touch. It helped having their names on the chalkboard on the front of their cabins.

  Will thought about Big Jack wanting to pick the cabins for each of his employees. With number nine out of commission, the owner of On the Fly had taken the cabin farthest away from the others. The man should have the solitude he was looking for. Will could understand how he might want to be away from his younger, louder, more energetic staff.

  “I need some space. Some rest. It’s been a rough year, if you know what I mean,” the man had said.

  Will hadn’t known what he meant, but he’d found most of his guests led busy, frantic lives and came to the ranch to relax, away from the stress. It was one reason his father had insisted that there was no internet in the cabins or the lodge. Nor was there any cell phone service. The last time Big Jack was at the ranch, there’d been no such thing as cell phones.

  “I would imagine you’ve installed internet and cell phone service,” Big Jack had said.

  “I have plans to, but my father felt the only way to truly get away was to leave all of that behind.”

  Big Jack had laughed. “That does sound like your father. No television, either, as I recall.”

  “Nope. Not yet.” Will wondered if the man would change his mind. “We have the landline in the lodge for emergencies. That’s really all we’ve needed. But by the next time you come up—”

  “Sounds perfect,” the man had said distractedly.

  “You can have all the space and rest you need,” Will had assured him. “I’m glad you thought of our ranch for your retreat.”

  “My father loved the place. I feel guilty that I never brought my sons up sooner. I don’t know where the years have gone.”

  Big Jack had sounded sad—worse, regretful. Will had heard that the man had separated from his wife years ago, the separation ending in a nasty, costly divorce. That’s when Big Jack had started On the Fly, making fly-fishing vests.

  So maybe that was all this retreat was about. Sharing the Sterling guest ranch with his sons and employees. There was just one problem with that. While all of the cabins were some distance from each other with pine trees between to provide privacy, Big Jack had put his sons even farther away from him than his employees.

  Will tried not to read anything into that, but he couldn’t ignore the tension he’d felt from the group as they’d disembarked from the van. Big Jack had mentioned something about making some big decisions for his company. Is that what had them all on edge? His only hope was that Poppy’s afternoon snack would soothe their angst.

  As the guests now filed into the main lodge, Will introduced them to Poppy and Dorothea before he served everyone something to drink. Poppy excused herself, asking Dorothea for help in the kitchen.

  His stomach roiled at the thought of what she’d cooked up. At least there wasn’t smoke boiling out of the huge ranch kitchen. He supposed that was something. Instead, he thought he kept getting tantalizing scents. The guests were chatting among themselves, some sitting away from the others thumbing through the many Western magazines stacked on the large square coffee table in the center of the seating and others standing around the large fireplace where Will had a blaze going.

  A few moments later, Dorothea brought in a tray filled with plates and forks followed by Poppy with an even larger tray filled with food that definitely smelled...interesting. He blinked as she put down the tray and began to remove lids one by one from the dishes she’d made.

  “What I have for you this afternoon is a favorite of mine,” she said as she took off the first lid from one of the serving dishes she set on the large square table. “Pork meatballs with crushed pineapple, rolled in toasted coconut, served with a chili mango sauce.” She removed the lid of the mango sauce, then reached for another lid on another dish. “We also have chilled cucumber cups filled with my recipe for sweet potato hummus, and finally...” She lifted the last lid from a larger dish. “Black bean and goat cheese bruschetta.”

  Murmurs of excitement went up around the coffee table as everyone sat forward to see the beautiful dishes Poppy had made before they all grabbed plates and dug in. As they took bites of the afternoon snack, there were murmurs of enjoyment and surprise. None could have been more surprised than Will himself.

  Poppy took a slight bow and said, “Please enjoy. Let me know if I can get you anything else.” With that she turned and left.

  He watched her leave. For the first time, he noticed that she was wearing jeans that fit her quite nicely, a T-shirt the same color as her eyes, sneakers and an apron that had tiny horseshoes on it. He was staring after her when Dorothea gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow.

  “That woman is here to destroy you,” she whispered. “So get that look off your face.”

  He wasn’t sure
what look was on his face, but he quickly changed it.

  “Don’t worry,” Dorothea whispered. “I’m keeping my eye on her.”

  That was enough to make him worry. He waited until everyone had served themselves at least one helping before he made himself a plate. He listened to the oohs and aahs around the table as he tried the meatballs first. Oh, my word, he thought. The meatballs were divine.

  “This is all so delicious,” Ruby, an attractive fortysomething brunette, said. “My compliments.”

  Lamar agreed and looked to his younger brother, Mick. But Mick seemed more engrossed by what was going on across the coffee table from him. Kirk, the blond former semi-pro snowboarder, was talking quietly with Allison, the cute dark-haired young woman.

  “Let’s not forget our manners,” Lamar said pointedly.

  Channing rolled her eyes at him. “Who made you the manners police?” the bored-looking blonde mocked. “Good food, Poppy,” she called into the kitchen before mugging a face at him.

  Lamar ignored her and looked at Dean, who pushed his thick black-framed glasses up his nose and nodded in agreement. Lexi lifted her head from her plate, which looked so clean Will doubted she’d tried any of the food. “It’s real good.” Then she put her head down again, her lanky brown hair hiding her face.

  “I’m going to put on ten pounds before we leave here if all of her cooking is like this,” Allison said with a laugh and playfully hit Kirk when he told her she’d still be perfect.

  Will tried to ignore the intrigue around him as he helped himself to the rest of the dishes Poppy had laid out. Every bite blew him away. It was all amazing. He hadn’t expected this. Hell, he hadn’t expected the Poppy Carmichael now in his kitchen. But could she keep this up?

  He glanced over at Dorothea, who had made herself a plate and was sitting away from everyone by the window. She was devouring the meatballs and looking as if she hated herself for it. But she was also studying their guests.