She’d show him!
“Pantry and freezer are through there.” He pointed to a door on the side wall. “Might need to get some things. We’ve been too busy working outside to mess much with shopping and such.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Why don’t you go on back outside and do what you were doing and I’ll get things settled in here.”
Molly didn’t want him hanging around while she tried to bring some order out of this chaos. She knew she wasn’t superwoman, but anyone with a lick of sense could at least clean up a bunch of dirty dishes.
Then she’d see to lunch.
“Molly Forrester.”
She swung around. “What?”
“Just verifying that’s your name.” He studied her with his silvery eyes seeming to see down into her soul.
For a heartbeat, she felt a tug of attraction. Which she immediately clamped down on. She wanted no distractions in any form. She had come to escape a domineering father who thought he had the right to run her life for her. And a faux fiancé who had followed her father's lead.
She wanted to establish herself in a career of her choosing. She wasn't going to get sidetracked from her goal. The last thing she wanted was to feel any attraction toward her new boss. Or any other cowboy on the ranch.
Not that she could totally ignore Josh Hart, of course. He was the perfect example of what a man should look like in her mind. She’d have to be dead to deny that. Not that she'd let herself act upon any attraction at all. She knew all about men. How they wanted women to wait on them hand and foot. How they derided any attempts to grow and develop. How they ignored her needs and wanted to use her for their own ends.
She'd escaped that life. She'd observe the cowboys on the ranch and use them in her book. She’d research what they liked and what they didn’t. And it'd be strictly research, no personal involvement. She'd keep herself aloof and dedicated to doing the best job she could.
She wasn't staying for life. Once her book sold, she’d move on.
“You all right?” Josh asked, shaking her arm a little.
Blinking, Molly nodded. She'd been daydreaming again. She had to watch that, it caused more trouble than she wanted in the past. She dare not let it affect this job.
“A bit daunted by the task ahead, but I can manage.”
He was too observant to let her slip away in her mind like she did so often and let it go unnoticed.
She didn’t need that escape anymore. She'd left her father’s house and life and had no intentions of ever returning.
He glanced around. “Wouldn’t take Rachel long to clean this up.”
“My guess is Rachel would never have let it get this bad,” she replied tartly. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Miss Forrester, in case you were wondering, I run this spread, not you.”
“I’m just trying to ease you out the door so I can get to work. I don’t need supervision to wash dishes.”
She turned to face him. Big mistake. He stood too close. For the first time in ages, Molly wondered what she looked like. Had her lipstick worn off? Had the breeze in the yard tangled her hair? Did her clothes fit all right?
Swallowing hard, she wished she dare move. Either a step back for safety’s sake, or a step forward so she could feel his heat, breathe in the scent of him that she’d caught when they had tangled on the stoop.
“There will be five of us in for lunch. The rest of the men won’t be back until supper. Can you manage?”
“Yes.”
She watched him shake his head in doubt and head back outside.
Josh paused on the stoop and gazed at the men near the barn. He'd tell them they had a housekeeper, but not to grow too used to the idea. He couldn't imagine this hothouse flower managing a single day, much less for the foreseeable future.
He'd give her the chance, though. As she'd said, he didn't have any options. His sister had told him he needed someone the last time she'd been here. Not that he needed telling. Trying to do things around the house when there was so much to do around the ranch was impossible. He wouldn't call on his older brother for help, either. Jase had given years of his life to building the ranch to the spread it was now.
The least Josh could do is keep it going strong.
He set his hat on his head and started for the barn, wondering how long Molly Forrester would last.
Breathing a sigh of relief when Josh Hart left the kitchen, Molly turned to the mess awaiting her. It didn’t look as if she would be writing anything today. Once she cleaned up the kitchen, she'd need to fix lunch for the cowboys. And then plan a meal for dinner.
Sometime during the afternoon, she'd unpack, and get her laptop set up. At least she could do that much today.
She wanted to explore the house, see which room would likely be hers. But first, she had to get this kitchen in better shape than now.
By the time the men streamed in for lunch, Molly managed to clean all the dishes, wipe down the counters, table and stove and sweep the floor.
She'd rummaged around in the cupboards and pantry and begun a list of food items to purchase to feed the crew at Rafter C. The supplies available were limited. It was long past time someone went shopping.
She’d done her best with lunch—but it was a pitiful array that met the eyes of the hungry cowboys.
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches mingled with grilled cheese on two large platters in the center of the table. There were small bowls of canned soup at each place: vegetable, beef barley and cream of mushroom. A huge pot of black coffee kept warm on the stove. At least there was plenty of that.
Josh walked to the head of the table and stared at the platters. Slowly he raised his gaze to hers. His disbelief was blatant. “This is lunch?”
She nodded, suddenly wary. There was little food to be had. She’d done her best. Seeing his frown of disapproval, she instantly knew it wasn’t enough.
The other men sank down in the chairs, silent as they surveyed the stacks of sandwiches, the bowls of mismatched soup. As one, they all looked at Molly.
She smiled brightly. “I’m Molly Forrester.”
No one said a word.
“The new housekeeper.”
“Where did you work before, ma’am, at a nursery school?” one of the older men asked.
“Get started. I’ll be back in a minute,” Josh said.
Gripping Molly’s arm, he marched her from the room and down the hall to the room he used as his office. Slamming the door behind him, he spun her around until they faced each other.
“Is lunch supposed to be a joke?” he asked. “Or is this your idea of being what I needed for a housekeeper? These are hardworking, hungry men. Not some ladies at a tea!”
Molly felt like a failure. There had been limited supplies granted—however if she'd been a true housekeeper, she'd have known how to fix something else for hardworking men.
Peanut butter and jelly suddenly seemed childish and not very filling. But once she had finished washing all the dirty dishes, there hadn't been much time to prepare a full-blown meal, not with food readily available.
The heat of his anger washed through her. Blinking in surprise, she stood her ground, a matching anger beginning to build.
“It’s no joke. It’s all I found to feed this crew. If you want to eat better you should buy more food!”
“So do we expect a kid's happy meal for dinner?”
She ignored his scathing tone and shook her head.
“I have time to go into town and get some food for dinner.”
“All the men will be in for dinner, that’s seventeen plus you and me. You told me you could manage to feed that many. Having second thoughts?”
Josh had been mad clear through when he first saw the skimpy platter of sandwiches. Yet she looked so determined meeting his gaze with anger in her own eyes, he had a hard time holding on to his anger. He was not getting soft with some stranger, no matter how pretty!
“These men engage in hard physical labor all day long. We need a lot of food to keep going. And we prefer something with a bit more substance than peanut butter.”
“It was in the cupboard, I assumed it was to be used,” she snapped back. She knew she’d blown it. But there had not been a big selection. At least everyone had food to eat.
“Probably for Rachel or one of the other housekeepers. I don’t remember being served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches since my mother died.”
She stood tall and nodded, tilting her chin.
“I stand corrected. In the future I’ll make sure there are ham and cheese and roast beef sandwiches.”
She gritted her teeth lest the words tumbling around her mind spilled out. So she had a bit to learn. It would help if there were some food around to prepare. She’d stock up the kitchen with so much food there'd always be choices for the lots and lots of meals.
“The grilled cheese sandwiches were a good idea. I hope there are one or two left when we get back in there,” he conceded.
“If there'd been more cheese or bread, I would have fixed more. Your pantry is practically bare, your refrigerator has more green stuff growing in it than your yard, and the freezer holds sides of cows, not nice little packets that could be quickly thawed and used.”
“If you can’t do the job—”
She whirled around and stormed across the office in anger.
Was that his out, fire her after one meal? She wasn’t going to give in easily over this. She needed this job. And he needed a housekeeper.
She turned to face him before leaving the room, feeling braver with the distance between them.
“I arrived here a couple of hours ago. I needed to shovel out the dirt you accumulated in that kitchen over the last who knows how long, then scrounge around for food to feed over half a dozen people. I’m a writer, not a magician. I can’t clean off enough plates to eat from and conjure up food all with a wave of my hand. I did fine for what raw materials I had to work with. Once I get some shopping done, everything will be fine!”
“A writer?” Josh repeated, picking up on the word. “You’re a writer?”
She closed her eyes briefly. Stupid! She hadn’t wanted anyone to know until she sold a book. Not after the mocking comments of her father and Marc.
“I thought you were a housekeeper. You’re a writer?” Josh asked suspiciously.
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “What I do in my off time is my business. Your house won’t suffer because I write.”
“What do you write?”
If she was a reporter set on a story, he’d kick her off the ranch so fast the new would rub off her boots.
“Books,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to his throat. She watched his pulse, fascinated to see its slow, steady beat against the hollow of his throat. She'd have to remember to use that in a scene.
“What kind of books?”
She didn’t need this. She didn’t need the laughter and derision she’d get. She was no stranger to it. Her own father laughed at her ideas. Marc had scoffed at her ambitions. But she firmed her resolve, refusing to allow her father, Marc or new boss to deter her.
“Romance novels,” she said proudly.
“What?”
Josh took a step closer, his eyes blazing down at Molly. “You’ve come here to write
love stories
? Or is it research you are interested in? Stay away from my ranch hands! I don’t want you doing any kind of
romance
research here. The first thing I know, I’ll have a mutiny on my hands. You’re here as housekeeper until I can get someone else. I should send you packing now.”
“My imagination is much better than any reality. I don’t plan to seduce any of your men. Does that make you feel better?”
She turned away, aware of the heat in her cheeks. She knew she was beet red and didn’t need any more embarrassment. She also knew she shouldn't have mentioned romance books. Men all thought—
“No writing on my time.”
“You don’t need to worry, Mr. Hart. I have never...”
She trailed off. She'd planned to say she'd never had a problem with her work, but that wasn’t strictly true. Her father constantly berated her for less than the perfection he sought. Her attempts to work in an office and the department store in the mall had met with far less than perfect results. Even the fast-food place had fired her. Scrupulously honest, Molly couldn't tell Josh Hart she never did less than outstanding work.
He didn’t seem to notice her lapse.
“Call me Josh,” he growled, heading for the door. “And see that you do your best.”
He whipped it open and in seconds, Molly was alone. Slowly, she followed. The kitchen was empty. Crumbs on the plates indicated the men had eaten the sandwiches. She wondered if they had left anything for Josh.
He must have grabbed something or she was sure she'd have heard about it.
She wished they'd left her half a sandwich at least.
Molly cleared the table and did the dishes as her mind endlessly played over the scene in the study. She was determined to do the best job in the world for Josh Hart. He'd find nothing less than perfection, she vowed.
But her free time was her own and if she wanted to spend it writing romance novels, it was no one’s business but her own.