Boots Optional

“I don’t give a damn what time he said he’d be here. I fuc–” Grace Lambert slammed her mouth closed, shutting down her own tirade before it was too late. As it was, she had…

“Abigail Grace Lambert! Watch your damn mouth!”

Yep, she’d gone and done it now. Pissing off her pop first thing in the morning probably wasn’t the best way to start the day. In fact, she usually preferred a little caffeine before he chewed her a new one. 

Probably to avoid her father’s wrath, Casey – one of the wranglers who helped out in the kitchen each morning – hauled ass out the back door, the screen slamming shut behind him. Lucky bastard. Grace added “Pay Casey back for bailing” to her mental list of things to do today as she turned back to her father who’d puffed up like a bullfrog, getting ready to lay into her a little more.

“I did, Daddy!” she exclaimed before he could continue. Lowering her voice about ten decibels, she followed up with, “Sorry.”

“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” 

The back door swung open and following that dark, rich Texas twang was none other than the bane of her existence, Grant Kingsley, Dead Heat Ranch’s pain in the ass head foreman. He looked at Grace then back out the door probably at Casey running full out toward the bunkhouse to find the cook who apparently thought he was on vacation.

“Watch your mouth, Kingsley,” Grace muttered beneath her breath as she poured her coffee, purposely not making eye contact. It was bad enough that the mere sight of him made her blush. Especially after… She had things to do, and the first thing on her agenda was to get away from Grant as soon as possible because she damn sure didn’t have time to think about what she saw last Friday night.

“Yes, ma’am,” Grant said in that silky drawl, his mouth much too close to her ear as he passed by her, using his quest for coffee as his excuse to touch her.

Grace did her damnedest to hide her unwelcome reaction to the cowboy who’d been working for her family’s ranch for more years than she had been. “Where’s Lane?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t noticed how close he was.

“Haven’t seen him yet this mornin’,” Grant answered easily as he reached for a coffee cup in the cabinet above Grace’s head. “You lookin’ for him? I can see if I can locate him for you.”

Holding her own cup with both hands, because yes, they were trembling slightly, she eased out from between the tall cowboy and the unyielding counter to join her father at the kitchen table. “Nope. Just hadn’t seen him yet.” And wanted to make sure I didn’t run into him too, she thought to herself.

“Where’s Faith?” Jerry Lambert asked, her father’s question not directed at anyone in particular. Or so it seemed.

Grace sipped her coffee, once again pretending there wasn’t another hot cowboy walking through the back door of the ranch’s main house right about… 

Now.