Unbiddable Attraction. Robyn Grady

she had her priorities straight. She was focused on her goal of becoming Lassiter Media’s first vice president in charge of public relations under the age of thirty. She wasn’t going to risk her career for any man and especially not for a summer fling—even if the sexy-as-sin cowboy had a charming smile and a voice that could melt the polar ice caps.

      * * *

      “Did you get the little lady squared away?” Gus Swenson asked when Chance entered the kitchen.

      Too old to continue doing ranch work and too ornery to go anywhere else, Gus had become the cook and housekeeper after the renovations to the homestead had been completed. If it had been left up to him, Chance would have just had Gus move into the homestead and that would have been that. After all, Gus had been his dad’s lifelong best friend—he was practically family. But Gus’s pride had been at stake and that’s why Chance had disguised his offer in the form of a job. The old man had grumbled about being reduced to doing “women’s work,” but Chance knew Gus was grateful for the opportunity to live out the rest of his days on the ranch he had worked for the past fifty years.

      “Yup. She’s in the room across the hall from mine,” Chance answered, walking over to hang his hat on a peg beside the back door.

      Reaching into the refrigerator, he got himself a beer and popped off the metal cap. He needed something to take the edge off the tension building inside him.

      In hindsight, it might not have been the smartest decision he’d ever made to put Fee in the room across from the master suite. If touching her smooth cheek was all it took to make him feel as restless as a bull moose in mating season, how the hell was he going to get any sleep? He tipped the bottle up and drank half the contents. Just the thought of her lying in bed within feet of where he would be, wearing something soft and transparent, her silky blond hair spread across the pillow, had him ready to jump out of his own skin.

      “You still got the notion you’re gonna talk her outta makin’ you a movie star?” Gus asked, drawing him out of his unsettling insight.

      “I told you she wants me to be the spokesman for her PR campaign,” Chance said, finishing off the beer. “That’s a far cry from being in a movie.”

      “You’re gonna be in front of a camera, ain’t ya?” Gus asked. Before Chance could answer, the old man went on. “I’ve got a month’s pay that says you’ll end up doin’ it.”

      Chance laughed as he tossed the empty bottle in the recycling container under the sink. “That’s one bet you’ll lose.”

      The old man grunted. “We’ll see, hotshot. You ain’t never asked a woman to come stay here before and that’s a surefire sign that she’s already got you roped. It’s just a matter of time before she’s got you fallin’ all over yourself to do whatever she wants.”

      Deciding there might be a ring of truth to Gus’s observations and not at all comfortable with it, Chance changed the subject. “Did Slim check on the north pasture’s grazing conditions today?”

      He didn’t have to ask if Gus had seen the ranch foreman. The old guy made a trip out to the barn every afternoon when the men came back to the ranch for the day, to shoot the breeze and feel as if he was still a working cowboy.

      Gus shook his head. “Slim said they couldn’t get to it today. He had to send a couple of the boys over to the west pasture to fix a pretty good stretch of fence that last storm tore up and the rest of ’em were movin’ the herd over by the cutbank so they can start mowin’ for hay next week.”

      “I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” Chance said. He had intended to show Fee around the ranch anyway; he could include the northern section of pasture as part of the tour.

      “Something smells absolutely wonderful,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

      “Thank you, ma’am.” Bent over to take a pan of biscuits out of the oven, Gus added, “I don’t fix anything real fancy, but I can guarantee it’ll taste good and there’s plenty of it.”

      “Fee Sinclair, this is Gus Swenson, the orneriest cowboy this side of the Continental Divide,” Chance said, making the introductions.

      When Gus straightened and finally turned to face her, Chance watched a slow grin appear on the old man’s wrinkled face. “Real nice to meet you, gal.” He stood there grinning like a damned fool for several moments before a scowl replaced his easy expression. “Where’s your manners, boy? Don’t just stand there blinkin’ your eyes like a bastard calf in a hailstorm. Offer this little lady a seat while I finish up supper.”

      “Thank you, but I’d be more than happy to help you finish dinner,” Fee offered, smiling.

      “I got it all under control, gal,” Gus said, reaching into the cabinet to get some plates.

      “Could I at least set the table for you?” she asked, walking over to the butcher block island, where Gus had set the plates. “I really do want to help.”

      Gus looked like a teenage boy with his first crush when he nodded and handed her the dinnerware. “I appreciate it, ma’am.”

      “Please call me Fee,” she said, smiling as she took the plates from the old man.

      When she turned toward the table, Gus grinned like a possum and gave Chance a thumbs-up behind her back. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, boy? Get some glasses and pour up somethin’ for all of us to drink.”

      As Chance poured three glasses of iced tea and carried them to the table, he couldn’t get over the change in Gus. Normally as grouchy as a grizzly bear with a sore paw, the crusty old cowboy was downright pleasant to Fee—at least as close to it as Gus ever got. If he didn’t know better, Chance would swear that Gus was smitten.

      Twenty minutes later after eating a heaping plate of beef stew, homemade biscuits and a slice of hot apple pie, Chance sat back from the table. “Gus, you outdid yourself. I think that was one of the best meals you’ve ever made.”

      “Everything was delicious,” Fee agreed, reaching over to cover the old man’s hand with hers. “Thank you, Gus.”

      The gesture caused Gus’s cheeks to turn red above his grizzled beard. “You’re more than welcome, gal. Can I get you anything else? Maybe another piece of pie? We got plenty.”

      Smiling, Fee shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another thing. I’m positively stuffed.”

      Chance rose to take his and Fee’s plates to the sink. If anyone was falling all over themselves to do whatever Fee wanted, it was Gus. The old guy was practically begging her to let him do something—anything—for her.

      “Would you like to go for a walk after I help Gus clear up the kitchen?” Chance asked, wanting to spend a little time alone with her.

      “That would be nice,” she said, getting up from the table. “But I want to help with the cleanup first.”

      “You kids go on and take your walk,” Gus said as he got to his feet. “There ain’t nothin’ much to do but put the leftovers in the refrigerator and load the dishwasher.”

      “Are you sure, Mr. Swenson?” Fee asked, her voice uncertain.

      “The name’s Gus, little lady,” the old geezer said, grinning from ear to ear. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

      Chance turned to stare at Gus to see if the old man had sprouted another head and a new personality to go with it. He’d never in his entire thirty-two years heard Gus sound so amiable. What was wrong with him?

      “Are you feeling all right?” Chance asked, frowning.

      “I’m just fine,” Gus answered, his smile warning Chance to drop the matter. “Now, you kids go ahead and take that walk. I’m gonna be turnin’ in pretty soon. I’ll see you both at breakfast in the mornin’.”

      Chance shook his head as he reached for his hat hanging on the peg