The door banged open and a little man with a cane shuffled inside. The balding redhead wore a plaid flannel shirt in a hideous shade of kelly green, black pants, and black work boots. Holy crap. His resemblance to a leprechaun was uncanny. Harper blinked, but he didn’t disappear, nor did she see a pot of gold anywhere near him. Dang.
He didn’t smile. In fact, he scowled. “You must be Harper.”
“Who are you and why did you just barge into Bran’s house? You’re lucky I didn’t attack you.”
The man harrumphed. “I’m Les. Bran’s full-time ranch hand.” His gaze zipped over her, almost with contempt. “You don’t look like you could hurt a fly, although you don’t look much like a beauty queen neither.”
Was she supposed to be flattered or insulted by that comment?
He didn’t wait for a retort. He glanced at the coffeemaker. “Havin’ coffee made is one of the benefits of hiring a woman, I guess. Bran never could get me to make coffee.”
It would be wrong to kick his cane out from under him since he was recovering from a broken hip.
Play nice, Harper.
“Another benefit of hiring Harper? She ain’t nearly as crotchety in the mornin’ as you are, Les.”
Les plopped in the closest kitchen chair with a grunt. “She also ain’t had her hip replaced after getting stomped by one of your pissed-off bulls.”
Bran ambled by her, smelling of soap and toothpaste. She wanted to jam her fingers into his damp hair and breathe in his clean scent and taste his minty mouth.
“Didn’t know you’d planned on coming back to work this week,” Bran said. “A phone call would’ve been nice. Especially since you felt the need to call me a couple of times a day, every day, during your recovery.”
She’d watched Bran’s face as he’d listened to Les’s complaints whenever he called. The conversations were very one-sided as far as she knew. Then again, Bran and Les had been friends for years, so maybe Bran had confided in him about all aspects of his life when she wasn’t around. That thought made her nervous.
Bran set three cups on the counter and poured. He nudged one cup in her direction and carried two cups to the table, sliding one in front of Les before sitting across from the man.
Les gave off negative vibes, so Harper opted not to join them at the table.
“The doc cleared me yesterday,” Les said. “Besides, I’m sick of sitting on my ass at home. Another day and I’d like ta gag that sister of mine.”
“I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing. In fact, I’ll bet it was Betty who encouraged you to get back in the saddle, wasn’t it?”
Les scowled and slurped his coffee. “So where’s the ranch truck?”
“At Harper’s.”
“Why?”
“It’s been havin’ some issues,” Bran lied.
Smooth, Bran.
“She’s out here awful damn early.” Les squinted at her with blatant accusation.
Harper fought the urge to bristle, but she couldn’t offer the crabby man a fake smile either. “I’m an early riser.”
Les didn’t acknowledge her. “So what’re we doin’ today?”
“Moving the bulls into the north pasture. We’ve gotta doublecheck that the fences and gates are secure.”
“Why?” Harper asked Bran.
But Les jumped in to answer before Bran could. “Because we don’t want our bulls getting out and impregnating Henderson’s cows. Don’t make the Hendersons none too happy neither, since half the herd in their south pasture, which borders ours, is full of purebreds. They lose a whole shit pile of money if the calves ain’t purebred, but were sired by one of our mongrel bulls.”
“My bulls ain’t all mongrels, but they ain’t the caliber that the Hendersons are known for.”
“But they are your neighbors, right? Wouldn’t they know better than to put such valuable purebred stock in a pasture where their cows might be sullied by your horny low-class bulls?”
Bran laughed. He gazed at her with the pure warmth that caused a funny tickle under her breastbone. “You have such a unique way of seeing things, Harper.”
She smiled behind her cup.
“That said, if the bulls do get out? The financial responsibility falls on Bran’s shoulders. Some neighbors wouldn’t push it, but the Hendersons do.”
“Meaning what?” she asked Bran, but naturally Les answered.
“Meaning the Hendersons require us to buy the contaminated purebred stock. To the tune of a grand a calf.”
Harper looked at Bran. “Seriously?”
Bran shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ I can do except try to keep the bulls penned up and hope the Hendersons have already bred their cows.” He grinned. “Or hope they’ve put the heifers in that section. Nothin’ more skittish than a heifer goin’ through her first mating cycle. Some of the bulls just give up.”
The dream she’d had about Bran standing behind her while they watched the bovine mating dance floated into her mind and she fought a blush.
“’Cept it cost you fifteen thousand last summer. And you sure didn’t get that back when we sent them to market.”
Fifteen thousand dollars? For what was basically an honest mistake? Just when Harper thought she’d gotten a handle on some of this ranch stuff, she realized she’d only seen the tip of the iceberg. She said as much.