Her Cowboy Cousins: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  Sarah’s mom is more than a little overprotective, just like Chuck was. They have sheltered that girl for her whole life. Miranda wants to claim she’s naïve, but who’s responsible for that? The girl’s an adult now and she’s still being treated like a child, getting scolded by her mother in public after she tries to do the nice thing and make sure she’s eating a home-cooked meal. She really needs to break loose of this parental hold. She needs to get a little crazy, have some fun…

  I remind myself quickly that it’s not going to be me that shows her fun, though. She’s too young, too innocent, and that ain’t my style anymore. Not to mention the fact that if it were ever known she fucked around with me, my reputation would ruin hers in an instant. I don’t want any of that shit for her. She seems too sweet.

  Miranda gives me one last glare and warning. “I mean it, Spencer, you best stay away from my daughter. I will not have her doing anything with you, not any of you.” She levels her gaze at Marshall and Morgan before walking away.

  When she’s out of earshot at the other side of the bar, Morgan breaks the silence at the table. “Jesus Christ, and I thought Chuck was protective of her. That girl is really sheltered.”

  “No wonder she comes off so innocent,” Marshall adds. “Do her parents let her do anything? She can’t even work for us without her mama worrying about what trouble we’re going to get her into. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Not our business,” I remind them as I sip more of my beer. “It’s not our problem to solve. We’re not going to be the ones to help her out of her shell. If anything, we should be treating her the exact same as her parents do, like she’s still some naïve kid. Keep your distance from that one.”

  “Yeah… Yeah, that’s probably the best choice,” Morgan agrees, though he doesn’t sound too convinced.

  “Sure, we’ll mind our business,” Marshall also agrees, albeit with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  And I can’t even blame either of them for it ‘cause frankly, I’m not thrilled about the idea either. Miranda was right about one thing: she’s definitely a good-looking girl.

  Since I know that is going to tempt me, I decide I should sooner stay away and ignore her completely. That’s the safest choice. I’ll let Marshall and Morgan train her. I’m keeping my distance.

  I’ve made a lot of good choices in an attempt to shake the reputation that has followed me for years. I’m not about to fuck up what I’m working toward just because one cute, gorgeous, sweet and sexy girl steps in through our door.

  Sarah

  When I came into work this morning, I was filled with anxiety. After being scolded by my mother like a child in front of all three of my bosses, I don’t know how anyone thinks I can show my face back in here. But I have no choice. I have to make money to become a chef, and this is the best job I can get.

  When my mom got home that night, I stood up for myself and told her how ridiculous it was for her to chastise me that way. That I’m an adult and I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of the people I work for. The problem is, I don’t think she cared. If anything, considering how badly she doesn’t want me to work for them, I think she was proud of what she did. She figured treating me like a child was somehow going to get them to question my ability as an employee… which is ridiculous.

  Except it doesn’t feel too ridiculous now, or during my drive into work.

  When I get settled in, punching my time card as Marshall instructed and turning on the booking computer in my little receptionist’s office, I take a few deep breaths and eventually I do start to feel a bit calmer. Not that the anxiety isn’t still in the back of my mind, but at least now I can focus on something else… Like my actual job.

  Training went really well overall, at least. The booking system is easy to understand and unlike other customer-service jobs, I usually pretty much always know who would be coming in that day. Any moment I expect a check-in under the name Mark Lester.

  I sit down in my chair, checking out the details of their booking like the guest suite number, how long they’ll be staying, things like that. Marshall never told me I needed to look at these things ahead of time since they are easy enough to read when someone arrives, but I figure the fewer questions I ask upon arrival, the smoother the check in and the more professional I appear.

  As it turns out, I don’t really need to worry about being professional because soon upon their arrival, I learn that the Lesters are personal friends of Marshall.

  When Cheryl Lester arrives with her husband and family, I put on my best customer-service smile and extra-cheerful voice.

  “Welcome! Reservation for Mark Lester?” I grin at the four of them in front of me.

  “Yes, thank you. Is Marshall around?” she asks curiously.

  “He’s here, just out on the grounds right now. Do you need to speak to someone in management?” I ask. “Because I can get him, or one of his brothers…?”

  “Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that! I’m Cheryl, and this is my husband Mark and our children. I used to work with Marshall and when he quit and moved here to run this ranch, we came to visit and check it out. Since we loved it so much, we’re back again!” She smiles. “No need to disturb him now. I’m just hoping to see him at some point during our visit.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll make a point to come see you!” It’s kind of nice that these guests are friends as it takes some of the pressure off my first booking.

  It’s sweet that Marshall has friends that are willing to come to his dude ranch to be supportive, and even sweeter that they liked it so much they even come back the next year.

  “Looks like we already have your credit card and ID on file, so I’ll show you to your guest suite straight away,” I say as I grab the room key and head out of my small office.

  I open the door to the first guest suite, where they were supposed to stay, but as I open the door I’m horrified to find it looks a complete and absolute mess.

  I shut the door quickly, to their confusion.

  “What is it?” Cheryl asks, blue eyes wide.

  “Oh, sorry, just a little mix-up on my part! I’m new here; you’ll have to excuse me. I think it’s the next room you’re supposed to be in. Follow me.”

  I take the fall even though I know damn well I’m right about which room they were scheduled to be in. Eva just did not clean it properly… if she touched it at all.

  Thankfully there are no other guests at the moment and the rooms are very similar, so the switch is seamless. I get the Lesters settled in and then go back to the original guest suite to make the bed, change the towels, and tidy up the place myself.

  I don’t have any intention of telling Marshall, Spencer, or Morgan about Eva’s mistake. I don’t want to cause any drama, and there appears to be enough issues involving Eva already. Though it makes me completely understand why Spencer and Morgan were so adamant about her not living here. My impression of her at this point isn’t a good one. I mean, there aren’t even any other guests right now and she couldn’t get the rooms cleaned up before the first set arrived?

  I head back to my desk, but looking at the schedule again, I realize the next set of guests won’t be here for several hours. There isn’t much else for me to do. The office is already pristine considering it was just built, and it’s not as if there’s paperwork to file.

  This receptionist position is a far cry from my old job at the diner where I was constantly busy. I kind of prefer having something to do. It keeps the hours moving. Otherwise, I just stare at the clock blankly and wait for the minutes to slowly pass. Even on the rare occasions that we did have a slow day at the diner, I would whip something up for the employees to snack on in our downtime.

  That gives me an idea.

  I leave my desk, though I set a small, silver bell in the window so if anyone unexpectedly arrives, they can ring me and I’ll hear them. Then I head to the kitchen to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies for both the Lesters and the guests who have yet to arrive.
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  It feels like a good use of my time, all things considered. It’s small touches like this that really make customers happy, and cookies are really easy to whip up from scratch.

  I’m setting out my flour, eggs, sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla, and a few other ingredients when I hear a high-pitched voice from behind me.

  “What are you doing?”

  I turn around to find Eva’s daughter, Hayley, staring blankly at me.

  I smile at her. “I’m baking cookies. Would you like to help?” The kids I know really seem to enjoy baking, and if they don’t, they usually like the cookies. Her disgusted response is the last thing I expect.

  “Ew, no. Why would I help you?”

  I frown, unsure of what to say to that.

  She really is being kind of a brat. I hate thinking that about young kids, since they’re just a reflection of their parents and their life circumstances. It doesn’t seem like her mom is the best role model, and she just recently had to move her onto the dude ranch which was probably a drastic change. I try to cut her some slack.

  “No problem, I don’t mind doing it myself. I actually really like baking,” I tell her casually. “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know,” Hayley says as she rolls her eyes.

  This strikes me as a strange response. How could she not know? Where would Eva be? It’s the middle of the work day and she lives on the ranch, for crying out loud. And how could she let Hayley stroll around the ranch like this unaccompanied when she knows several guests are arriving today?

  But I don’t pry. I don’t want to set Hayley off any more.

  I start measuring out flour and pouring it into a large mixing bowl. “Would you like a cookie when I’m finished? My chocolate cookies are kind of the best, or so I hear.”

  This finally gets her to ease a little bit. “Okay…” She pauses for a moment. “But I bet they’re not that good.”

  I shrug. “Guess you’ll have to wait around and find out for yourself.”

  Hayley pulls a chair out from the kitchen table, and as I crack eggs, I try to get her to open up a little more.

  “So, how are you liking things here?” I ask.

  “I hate it,” she says sharply. “It smells like cows and horses all the time. It’s gross. It never used to stink like this at my old house.”

  Just as I suspect, the move is hard on her. I feel bad for judging her so harshly. She’s just an upset kid who wishes she could go back to her old life.

  “Well, what kind of things did you used to do at your old house? Maybe we could do some of that here.”

  “No,” she tells me. “I used to play with my makeup a lot, but it all got left behind.”

  “Makeup, huh?” I ask. “So do you want to be a makeup artist when you grow up?”

  “Yeah, I want to do makeup for celebrities one day, when I’m an adult.”

  I’ve got all my ingredients in the mixing bowl now and start whisking them together by hand.

  “That actually sounds really awesome. I’m sure if you practice enough, you’ll be able to do that.”

  I see a smile peek out of her. She’s a lot more at ease now that she’s talking about the things she enjoys.

  “Yeah, I’m already pretty good. I can contour better than any of my friends.”

  “Contour?” I ask. “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t know what contour means?” She gasps in horror, as if this is unimaginable.

  I laugh. “My mom didn’t really let me play with makeup when I was your age, and I never really got into it.”

  She shakes her head and laughs, but this time it isn’t in a snobby or judgmental way. She seems genuinely tickled to get to explain contouring to someone.

  “Contouring is when you use darker makeup to shape your face. Like, you can totally make your nose look smaller or your cheekbones higher. Just depends on how good you are at it, though, because you don’t want it to look fake. I can do it for you sometime.”

  I laugh. “Make my nose look smaller, huh? Okay, I guess we can try it. As long as I can still breathe right and everything,” I joke.

  She chuckles. “It doesn’t actually make your nose any smaller!”

  The conversation has taken a happier turn, and I’m pleased to see a glimpse of Hayley that I didn’t see when her mom was around. Underneath it all, she seems like a sweet little girl. I decide to push her a little.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to add the chocolate chips with me? I’ve already done all of the hard stirring.”

  She looks nervous. “I’ve never done that before.”

  I look at her, wide-eyed. “You never baked cookies with your mom?”

  She shakes her head. “Too many carbs.”

  “Okay, come on, you have to do this. It’s a rite of passage. Everyone has to bake cookies at least once when they’re a kid.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not a kid. I’m twelve.”

  I try to keep myself from laughing. “Right, of course, my bad.”

  She doesn’t seem to take too much offense and gets up to help me fold in the chocolate chips. I make her wash her hands first, which she does not protest, and when she’s done stirring, I teach her how to make little balls of cookie dough before we put them in the hot oven.

  Soon I’m actually enjoying her company. I’ve always gotten along well with kids. I babysat from a young age, and since I haven’t seen Marshall, Spencer, or Morgan once today, a little companionship is nice.

  We finish baking the cookies and put them on a large plate to set out in the window of my receptionist’s office. It’s perfect timing because as we do, the Lesters come out of their room. The cookies are still warm when the young kids run up to them.

  “Chocolate chip cookies! Can we have some?” the little boy says excitedly.

  “Yeah, can we?” the slightly older girl adds.

  “Wendy, Paul,” their mom calls out from behind them, grabbing their sleeves. “Where are your manners?”

  “Pleeeease?” they both chime in at the same time.

  “It’s fine with me, as long as it’s okay with your parents.” I smile at them both.

  They each take one, and I’m pleased with the squeals of pleasure they make at the first bite. I absolutely love to see people enjoy my food. It’s part of why I love to cook.

  Hayley is still standing next to me, but she isn’t saying anything. In fact, I get the sense she’s a little nervous now that other kids are around. I would have thought other children would put her more at ease.

  I feel bad for her, stuck at the ranch surrounded by only adults, so I try to encourage her to hang out with them.

  “Hey, Hayley, you know what might be fun? If you could show Wendy and Paul the horse stables. I bet they’d really like that.”

  Both Wendy and Paul’s eyes light up, but Hayley’s do the opposite.

  “Gross! No way! Those horses smell!” she says, resuming the prissy tone she had previously. Then she walks off without another word.

  I’m kind of surprised by the sudden change in attitude and look at the Lesters, who have equally surprised looks on their faces. But thankfully the awkward moment is quickly interrupted when Marshall strolls up, his boots clanking on the floorboards.

  “I’d be happy to take you all to see the horses if you’d like.” He smiles, showing off his perfectly-white teeth. “Cheryl, lovely to see you again.”

  “So great to see you!” Cheryl chimes. “The place is looking amazing! We love all the work you’ve done.”

  Mark nods. “Definitely. It’s a huge step up from last summer. You’ve done great work. It’s still got the warm country feel, but it’s a lot more polished.”

  “Thanks. We’ve been working hard to add the finishing touches on this place. Glad it shows.”

  “And we’d definitely love to ride horses, wouldn’t we, kids?” Cheryl asks.

  “Yeah!” Again, they chime in unison. They’re kind of adorable.

  “Beauti
ful. I’ll take you right over, then.” Marshall turns to me as he takes a cookie. “Would you like to join us, Sarah? Not much to do up here for a while.”

  “Oh!” I’m surprised that he asks. It doesn’t seem like I should be able to do something as enjoyable as riding horses while on the job, so I say yes right away. The thought of seeing Marshall on a horse is pretty tempting as well.

  “Fantastic. Let’s head over, then.”

  Sarah

  I love riding horses. I always have. I have never had a horse of my own, but growing up in Autumn Falls, you’re surrounded by them. I always had friends who had stables and would go riding with them and their families. It’s been a while, but getting on one still feels so natural to me.

  It takes a little time to get the Lesters situated. Apparently, their first time riding was on their last visit to the dude ranch. You don’t get a lot of horses in the city of course, so no surprise there.

  The kids are pretty nervous at first, voicing worries that they’re up too high, but we assure them the horses are used to guests riding them, and they’ll take it slow. And they do move slowly. Eventually, the kids get comfortable and we head off.

  Since the horses know the trails, Marshall and I hang back to give the family some privacy. Marshall tells me this is customary when guests need a guide for horseback riding. Be close enough to watch them but not close enough that they feel crowded or anything.

  “You know, that was a really nice touch, putting out those cookies,” Marshall smiles at me.

  “Oh! Thanks! Well, I didn’t have much else to do. I figure the homier the ranch feels, the better.”

  “You thought right. I really appreciate the initiative.”

  I’m relieved to hear him say this. It somewhat quells my fear about him not taking me seriously due to my mom’s actions. If he had any doubts before, hopefully my work ethic will convince him.