The Easy Breezy Inn, small and old, fit her budget and since her home was the pillow in her trunk…. The Doyles most likely wanted to tell her to keep on driving, don’t bother to stop in town. She’d get their message when she got bars.
“Well, Sheriff, I thought I’d get to pretend for a while longer that they still wanted to hire me.” Why was she talking to this guy as if he were her best bud, her BFF in LaLa Land-speak? He wouldn’t care if she got a job in this valley or not. Ha, she might never see him again in her life. BFF.
Tears spilled down her cheeks and she blubbered right there, sitting in her car, in front of Montana law, because she didn’t even have a best friend west of the Mississippi River, ’cause she was sure Addis Ababa, where her only friend was currently working on an indie film, was considered east.
Oh, she loved these hormones. They gave her permission to feel anything she wanted to feel and right now she wanted to feel sorry for herself.
The sheriff towered over her, arms folded over his chest, somehow seeming more friendly than threatening. It seemed they all did the arms-over-the-chest thing here in Montana. Well at least he’d let go of his gun.
And he was patient enough to wait while she cried.
“I’ll—I’ll move on in a few minutes, Sheriff. When the falling water is all on the outside of my car.” She pointed lamely at the water dribbling down the rocks.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Got any job openings?” She rubbed her fingers across her wet cheeks.
“You should give Baylor a call.”
She pointed at her phone and made a zero with her fingers. “Nada.”
“Go back to the ranch.”
“I really have had enough rejection for the day.” Buddy. Pal. BFF. God save her, she was an idiot.
“You might be done with that.”
“What? What are you saying, and if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, how do you know?”
He laughed at her. She’d laugh at her, too, if she still remembered how.
“Baylor said he needed to talk to you before you got away. The Doyle family has apparently come to a decision.”
“He told you that? Why? Is he your nephew or something, I mean why would he tell you?”
“He’s a friend. Most people in the valley are.”
“Wow. A valley full of friends. Just like California, huh. I’m sorry. That must have sounded sarcastic…mean.” But most of her friends in California had been like temporary tattoos. The one friend she had left was out of the country on a movie shoot and the rest had stuck around only as long as conditions were exactly right and then they quickly faded. “Wait! He wants me. I mean, do you think the Doyle family want to hire me to do the job?”
The sheriff laughed again. “At least you’re not crying anymore.”
She felt her cheeks. Dry. “Oh, thank God about that. I’m a bit pregnant and I— Wait. I’m a lot pregnant.” She patted her belly and he nodded. “And I’m a lot influenced by the hormones and nobody tells you the half of it. Sorry—again—to go on. See Baylor Doyle, you say.”
“Yep.”
“Should I be scared? Is there anything scary about that family? There are so many of them.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You have a good day now, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Sheriff Potts. Potts, right?”
He touched his index finger to the brim of his cowboy sheriff’s hat.
“Goodbye. I hope you have a great day, Sheriff.”
“You, too, ma’am.” He nodded this time and turned away.
The sheriff got in his car and sped away. He most likely had cattle rustlers and varmints to catch. Did they still rustle cattle? The world was full of varmints, she could attest to that. Though in Southern California they called them celebrities and star-makers, and even producers if overborrowing, then dying and leaving your wife with the bills and a baby on the way makes you a varmint.
She leaned back against the headrest, but her head popped up immediately. She really did need to find a bathroom.
Which way? Town or the ranch?
Breathe deeply.
Think kind and peaceful thoughts. She was a sane, competent person. She rested her head back and took several long breaths. And all that did was make her have to pee more.
Oh, hell, what did she have to lose?
She started her car and headed back the way she had come a couple hours ago. The ranch had to be closer. Funny, her poor squashed bladder was going to determine her future.
Go. Go. Speed limit. Okay, maybe a bit faster than the speed limit. Besides the sheriff had gone the other way.
She sped down the highway and then up the lane to the Shadow Range ranch house with, she was sure, streaks of mud spraying out from behind her rear tires. Then she leaped out of the car as fluidly as a seven-months-pregnant woman who badly needed a powder-room fix could leap.
“Please, please, please, let me make it,” she prayed as she hugged her coat around her, covered the ground from her car quickly and hobbled up the steps.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
The door popped open and Baylor Doyle stood there holding a stack of papers. He gaped at her.
“Let me in.” She barged past him. “Which way? Which way?”
Was the man really as dull as his expression?
Holly appeared, glanced at her for a half a second. “That way. First door on your left.”
Gales of Holly’s laughter followed her down the hallway, and she soon heard Amy join in, too. She knew, given half a chance, she could love those women dearly.
She flipped on the powder-room light and found porcelain bliss.
BAYLOR EYED HIS GIGGLING sisters-in-law. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”
“No,” they howled together and then mercifully stumbled off down the hallway, holding each other upright as best they could.
Baylor shook his head and continued to the office, where he had been headed before the person who might be occupying his short-term future pounded on the door and, wild-eyed and sexy, ran on in.
In the office, he found Lance sitting on the edge of the desk waiting for him. His oldest brother shifted to the “visitor” chair as Baylor dropped the stack of papers in the middle of the blotter and sat down in the chair behind the desk.
“Have you decided our fate yet?” Lance asked when Baylor laced his fingers together, rested his hands on the stack of papers and leaned in to study his dark-haired brother.
CHAPTER THREE
BAYLOR GAVE HIS BROTHER a long stare. “We can’t hire her because she needs a job,” he said. Or because she’s good-looking, he thought.
“We can’t afford to turn a good option down for the same reason,” Lance drawled.
Baylor nodded and wondered if his brother knew the rest of his thoughts on KayLee Morgan.
“Two weeks,” Baylor said. “We’ll give her two weeks. That should be enough time to make a final decision.”
Seth approached, leaned on the doorjamb and gazed between Baylor and Lance. “She was good at facing us all