Turn and Burn, Page 7

  Fletch and Tanna exchanged an amused look. In light of their shared camaraderie, he said, “You wanna come over for a nightcap?”

  “Nah. First day of work tomorrow. But I’ll take a rain check.” Once she realized what she’d said, she backtracked. “You know. One of these days this summer.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  All Devin had to do was open his arms and Tanna was right there, hugging him.

  Fletch should’ve given them privacy, but he couldn’t make himself step back.

  “Take care, hillbilly rock star. If you can’t keep it in your pants at least wear a love glove, okay?”

  “Will do. Loop me in on your wild summer exploits.”

  “Wild. Right. I’ll be as mild-mannered as an old school marm.”

  He snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

  “You know how to get back to the Split Rock?”

  “I’ve got GPS.”

  “Good.”

  Fletch couldn’t think of anything else to keep Tanna from going.

  She said, “Drive safe,” and climbed in her truck.

  He realized he’d been standing there like an idiot, watching her drive away, when Devin cleared his throat. “We leaving or what?”

  “Yeah. Get in the truck.”

  “Fletch, if you wanna talk about it—”

  “I don’t. But that scotch is sounding better and better.”

  An hour later, Tanna sat in her living room, startled when three loud raps sounded on the door. Then the door opened and a female voice said, “Knock, knock.”

  Tanna peered around the edge of the room divider. “Who is it?”

  “Harlow Pratt. We’re coworkers. Can I come in?”

  Aren’t you already? “Sure.”

  The woman bounded forward like a puppy. “Hey! Tanna, right?”

  “Right.”

  “It’s great to meet you.” Tanna scrutinized her. Harlow looked nothing like her sister Tierney. Maybe it was the shocking pink hair, cut in funky, chunky layers. Maybe it was the nose piercing. Or the eyebrow piercing. Or the dozen piercings lining each ear. She wore a gray sharkskin-looking dress, ripped black fishnet stockings and vivid orange hiking boots with neon blue laces.

  Her first thought? No way could this woman sell Western clothing in a punk hooker Tron meets Mad Max getup.

  Harlow plopped on the couch and pulled a bottle out of her gigantic Hello Kitty purse. A bottle filled with a green liquid, the color somewhere between NyQuil and Midori melon liqueur. “I thought we could have a shot to celebrate and kick off our summer right.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Absinthe. Ever had it?”

  “No. I’m not sure I wanna tackle it now.”

  Harlow giggled. “It used to be illegal but they must’ve changed the formula or something because you can buy it. Do you have glasses?”

  Tanna started to refuse, until she realized Harlow had taken the first step for them to get to know each other. The least she could do was have a drink with her. “I doubt I have shot glasses. Is that poured over ice or anything?”

  “Drinking it straight means you don’t really taste it.”

  “That doesn’t sound good, Harlow.”

  “Oh, it’s not good. But it’s the only booze I had left.”

  Tanna grabbed two small Dixie cups and set them on the coffee table. “I take it you drove here?”

  “Straight through from Chicago. Normally I don’t travel with liquor, but I moved out of my apartment and I’m too thrifty to toss the bottle out, so I brought it along.” She poured two generous slugs and nudged a cup toward Tanna.

  Tanna peered at the green goo, then sniffed it.

  Harlow lifted her cup. “To a great summer.”

  “Cheers.” Tanna closed her eyes and drained the contents with one swallow. She fought a shiver when the liquid hit her stomach like battery acid. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Harlow wore a grimace too.

  “Nasty shit.”

  “Yep. And I bet it’s an ugly color when it comes back up too.” Harlow waggled the bottle at Tanna. “Feeling up to one more?”

  Tanna grinned. “What the hell?”

  “Good woman.” Harlow poured refills and said, “You get to make the toast.”

  “To not barfing in our sheets tonight.”

  “Or on our shoes.”

  They toasted and drank. The shot wasn’t any better the second time.

  “That’s enough of that,” Harlow said with a shudder.

  “I can’t even offer you a beer since I haven’t been to the store yet.”

  “Too bad we can’t sneak into the lodge for a drink, but I’m sure my big sis would frown on that. Since we’re employees and all.”

  “So, tell me how you ended up working at the Split Rock,” Tanna said.

  “I’ve been on a walkabout all over the world the last three years. Working with some humanitarian groups in third world countries and generally fucking off on my dad’s dime. He got tired of it and cut me off. Then he said I should learn to be more like Tierney, which is ridiculous because, hello? She’s a genius. She’s got like four advanced college degrees and she makes type A personality people look like slackers.” Harlow propped her hiking boots on the coffee table. “My big sis is the greatest person in the world and I’ll never come close to being like her, even if I . . . I don’t know . . . tried.

  “It’s really funny because my dad was so furious when Tierney quit working for him and took over property management for this place. Then she went and did the unthinkable—she married a cowboy. For love.” She gasped dramatically. “Tierney cut Dad out of her life completely. Somehow that caused him to wake up and realize he was an asshole—and would be a lonely asshole if he kept it up. They’ve been trying to get along ever since. Which is great for them, but shitty for me because now, Dad wants her to help me ‘make something’ of myself. You’re almost twenty-six, Harlow. It’s time to become a responsible member of society. When I was your age . . . blah, blah, blah. So here I am. What about you?”

  Tanna gave Harlow the condensed version of the past two years, finishing with, “We’ll see what happens after Labor Day.”

  “I’ll be sticking around at least until Tierney’s baby is born. I cannot wait to be an aunt. I’m gonna spoil that baby rotten.”

  “If Renner will let you,” she said dryly. “He is awful protective of Tierney.”

  “I know. She’s so lucky.” Harlow sighed. “Not only is Renner unbelievably hot, he gets my quirky sister. And the way he looks at her . . . Maybe someday I’ll get a guy to look at me like that, huh?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ve resigned myself to kissing a lot of frogs before I find a prince.” She winked. “How fortunate we’ve got a pond full of ’em so close by.”

  Who would Harlow try to sink her hooks into first? Fletch’s gorgeous face came to mind. Would Tanna have an issue if Harlow set her sights on the hot vet?

  Hell, yes.

  But you’re just friends, remember?

  Harlow stood and stowed the bottle of absinthe in her purse. “Great meeting you, Tanna. I promised I’d get rid of the punk hair, so I’m off to see what color my hair will turn out when I bleach out the pink.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “See you at the ungodly hour of nine a.m.”

  Tanna followed her to the door. “Which trailer are you staying in?”

  “None. I’m crashing at Tierney’s old cabin. I’ll admit I wasn’t too proud to beg for it. Probably the only time I can play the I’m-your-baby-sister-card and get away with it.” She grinned. “Night.”

  It’d be interesting to see what kind of worker Harlow would be. Her attitude and Tierney’s warning suggested Miss Harlow would try to rule the roost.

  Huh-uh. Not happening. There was only one cock of the walk in this place and Tanna had better make sure Harlow understood that it wasn’t her.

  Chapter Seven

  Sund
ay morning Tanna showed up in the dining room on time.

  She and Renner were on their second cup of coffee when Harlow strolled in, yawning.

  “Sorry. I overslept.”

  Renner frowned. Tanna figured he’d let her tardiness slide, but he waited until she had her coffee to speak, so he had her full attention.

  “There ain’t any special privileges for you here, Harlow, so get that outta your head right now. You’re here to work. Which means bein’ on time according to the lodge schedule, not your personal whims. Got it?”

  Harlow saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  He scrutinized her face and her clothing choices. “Let’s talk about uniforms.”

  “What? We have to wear some stupid uniform?” Harlow demanded.

  “If you’re serving in the lounge, yes. You’ll wear black pants and a long-sleeved white shirt. The dress code for Wild West Clothiers is casual. What you’ve got on”—he pointed to Harlow’s clothing: a tie-dyed tank top, cutoff jeans and flip-flops—“is not appropriate.”

  Tanna was relieved Renner would keep an eye on his sister-in-law for dress code violations so she wouldn’t have to.

  “The clothing store is open from ten to five, Monday through Saturday, but inventory and restocking need to be done every morning, which means you’ll need to be here at eight. The lounge is staffed from four to ten every night. Slowest night is Sunday. So it’ll depend on the reservation situation, whether we’ll staff it. No guests check in until tomorrow, so you’re both clear tonight. Any questions?”

  Harlow raised her hand. “Are we paid hourly or are we on salary?”

  “Hourly. I’ll show you where the time clock is.”

  “Is there commission on clothing sales?” Harlow asked.

  “No.”

  “Are meals included the days we work?” Harlow asked again.

  “No. But you can use the fitness center after ten at night. The pool is off-limits if there are guests here.”

  Tanna bit back a laugh at the sour look on Harlow’s face.

  “Let’s go over the lodge rules.” Twenty minutes later, Renner said, “Any questions?”

  They both looked at Harlow. She shook her head.

  “I’d like to have you both workin’ at Wild West Clothiers tomorrow. It’ll give you time to look over the merchandise. Harper is a helluva saleswoman, so you’ve got big boots to fill for the next couple months. Then I’ll have you both workin’ in the lounge too. There’s a meeting here tomorrow night but it won’t go past ten.”

  “Is that a regular occurrence? A group renting out the lounge for a private meeting?” Tanna asked.

  Renner shook his head. “Usually it’s something I’ve set up, like a Split Rock shareholders meeting. I will say that Harper has two or three groups of women that come here to shop from Casper, Cheyenne and Rock Springs. Since we know ahead of time, we set up a private luncheon for them.”

  “Bet that’s good for sales.”

  “Yep. There’s nothin’ like handselling.” He stood. “Let’s take the grand tour.”

  It took three hours to see everything, including the barns, the riding stables and two of the shorter walking paths. They backtracked by way of the barn and Tanna was relieved they didn’t approach the horses. It’d be embarrassing if she freaked out in front of her new boss.

  Tobin, the cute ranch hand with twinkling eyes and deep-set dimples, leaned over the fence. The ranch foreman, Hugh, a stoic guy with a scruffy beard and his face hidden beneath his hat, stood alongside Tobin.

  “Pretty ladies,” he said with a grin. “And Renner.”

  “Hey, Tobin,” Harlow cooed. “You’re looking too good to spend the day torturing cattle. What do you say we pack a picnic and go frolic by a stream or something?”

  Tobin laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m already spoken for today.”

  Harlow sauntered forward, parking herself in front of Hugh. “What about you, Grumpy? You ready to drop your pickax and hi-ho away from here for a little R and R?”

  “No.” He spun on his heel and stalked off.

  “You’d be wise not to taunt him, Harlow,” Renner warned. “You might need his help with something and he’ll leave you high and dry because you’re such a tease.”

  Tanna and Tobin exchanged a look.

  “I just won’t talk to him at all. If the tour is done, I’m going back to bed.” She flounced off down the hill, slipping and sliding in her flip-flops until she disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

  Renner sighed. “Tanna, you’ll need to tell me if she’s not pulling her weight.”

  “I will. But I do have to ask. She has held a job before?”

  “She worked in restaurants and bars and clothing stores through college. No idea how long she lasted at any of those, but she ain’t a total greenhorn.” He looked at Tobin. “You’re all right with hanging out in the lodge today?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll change before I head up there.”

  Renner looked at Tanna. “What are your plans?”

  “Grocery shopping.”

  “If you get bored, you could always hang out with Tobin in the lodge. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.” He grinned. “Later.”

  When Tanna glanced over at Tobin, his face was bright red.

  “I hope you don’t think I put him up to that. Because I’d never—”

  “I know. Don’t sweat it, Tobin.”

  He relaxed.

  “I’m heading to Rawlins for food. Which is the best grocery store?”

  “Super-Valu. They have a decent deli.” He grinned. “Hey. I’m a bachelor. I eat a lot of sandwiches.”

  “Me too. My fridge in my horse trailer is pretty small.”

  “I saw you talkin’ to Eli yesterday. Are you gonna work with him while you’re here?”

  Did everybody know about her situation? “Do you know something about him that I should?”

  “Not at all. He’s just really good with horses and riders. The best I’ve seen, actually. And I saw a lot of guys pretending they were horse whisperers and all that crap and none of them come close to what he can do.”

  “Good to know.”

  During the forty-minute drive into town, Tanna wondered if she’d be spending a lot of time alone this summer, after her shift ended. That was a depressing thought.

  You could spend as much time as you want with the oh-so-sexy animal doc.

  That was tempting. They’d been in perfect synch that night. She’d had more than her fair share of great sex, but that encounter ranked in the top five. Maybe even the top three. So why had she said no to him yesterday at the branding when he asked to see her again?

  Her conversation with Lainie swam front and center. Everything she’d said had been true. But it’d been bold talk when she was surrounded by people. She’d change her tune right fast when she returned to an empty trailer every night. She had spent years on the road, driving from event to event by herself, so she should be used to miles of blacktop and no one to talk to—except her mom and didn’t that just make her a pathetic mama’s girl?

  Maybe after she returned from her store run she’d make Tobin a sandwich and take it up to the lodge.

  Fletch was restless. Not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, but he wasn’t sure how to handle it. After spending time with Tanna, he realized he had to convince that little gal they’d be good for each other. Even short-term. And he wasn’t sure how to do that.

  Maybe his dad had an idea. He called him, giving a heads-up he was on his way over.

  His father lived in a retirement community in Rawlins, in a one-bedroom with a view of the golf course. Bruce Fletcher didn’t play golf, but he liked looking out the big picture window across the sloping green hills. Fletch paid for that premium view, but his father’s happiness was worth it. He’d raised Fletch alone, for the most part,