Wealthy and Wanted Read online

  I shift on my feet because he’s still not facing me. I take in his size again and realize just how big he is. I think he might be even bigger than my fiancé, which is saying a lot. I also didn't get a good look at his face with the sun shining into my eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  He lifts his arm to take off his hat and then runs a hand through his dark hair. I watch his muscles flex at the action under his white shirt, and I make myself look away. God, was I checking him out? His thick thighs will forever be branded in my mind, letting me know I didn’t miss a thing.

  “You’re not old.” His voice is low and rough as he slowly turns around to face me.

  “Maybe in another thirty years,” I joke, but he doesn't laugh.

  He takes a step closer, and I finally get to see his face. My stomach tightens as his dark green eyes meet mine. His face is square with a jaw made of stone, and his expression is stoic. He’s handsome in an intimidating way, but I don’t find that I’m at all afraid of him.

  “You’re here to work.” I nod my head in agreement even though it’s not a question. “Stay away from my workers.”

  “Okay.” Weird thing to say, but I guess I can do that.

  “Get your shit. I’ll show you to your room.”

  I walk over to my car to grab my purse out of the front seat, but as soon as I reach for the handle, a hand comes down on mine and stops me.

  “You’re not leaving.” I drop my head back to look up at him, and he’s pissed. I think this might be his normal face though.

  “I was getting my purse.” He smells like sunshine, and his dark green eyes could almost be black as they stare down at me. He lets go of the door handle and steps back. I reach in and grab my purse, and he holds out his hand.

  “Keys.”

  “You want my keys?” I’m learning quickly that Mr. Walker uses as few words as possible.

  “What I said.”

  “Why?”

  His jaw flexes. I don’t think he’s used to being questioned. “I’ll move it to the barn.” He nods towards the giant red barn, and I can only guess he doesn't want my crappy car outside his pretty house. That shouldn't sting, but it does.

  “I can move it.” He keeps his hand out and I finally give up and hand them over. I don’t really want to fight with my new boss on the first day.

  He puts them into his pocket before going to the back of the car and grabbing my bag that he told me to get myself a moment ago. I keep quiet as I follow him inside and then gasp.

  The house is breathtaking, or at least it would be if not for the mess. The inside has been updated like the outside, but that’s as far as the care has gone.

  I stare at the beautiful kitchen that would be any cook’s dream, wondering where I’m going to start. No wonder he’s good with a live-in housekeeper. From the look of things, he needs someone to follow him around and pick up after him.

  “Are you coming?”

  I pull my eyes away from the pile of dishes in and around the sink to where Mr. Walker is standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Sorry.” I follow him up as he pushes into one of the rooms and drops my bags on the floor.

  “This is your room. I eat dinner at five. Don’t need it tonight. Settle in.” With that, he turns and leaves without a goodbye or anything.

  I didn't know I’d be cooking too, not that it matters. I enjoy it, and I’ll need to make stuff for myself anyways. I peek my head out into the hallway and watch him enter another bedroom, which I’m guessing is his.

  Quietly I shut my door and let out a breath. He’s intense. I put my hand to my chest, realizing my heart is pounding. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

  I spend the next hour unpacking my bags and hanging my clothes up. There isn't much to the room with only a small twin-size bed, a dresser, and one nightstand, where I place the stack of books I brought with me, along with my Kindle.

  Remembering that I forgot to text my sister, I let her know that I made it safely and I’m about to go have a look around. I slide the phone into my back pocket and realize it’s going to take some time to get used to having a cell phone.

  I pause at the door, wondering if I’m going to run into Mr. Walker. I’m still unsteady about our first meeting because I almost think he doesn't like me. I have no idea what I could have done already to make my new boss mad, but I guess there’s really only one way to find out.

  When I hit the bottom stairs, I pause when I see Mr. Walker standing there eating a sandwich over the sink. The man really is living the bachelor life.

  “Would you like me to make you something else?” I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear and he grunts a “no” before polishing off his sandwich and reaching for another he made. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

  “I don’t talk much.” He shrugs one of his big shoulders and then picks up a glass of milk and chugs the whole thing.

  “Okay, but it still feels like you’re angry with me. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot if I’m going to be staying here.”

  “We don’t need to be on any foot. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.” He puts the cup in the sink, and I look down at my hands, feeling uncomfortable as the silence stretches. “Your name.”

  “What about it?”

  “You’re not a Dorothy.”

  I let out a small laugh and he stares at my mouth. “Well, that’s my name.”

  “Dorothy is an old woman's name.”

  Is that the problem? I remember his comment outside about me not being old. He must have thought I was going to be an older woman, but I don’t see how that matters. I still know how to cook and clean.

  “Well, it was my grandmother’s name.” He stares at me. “Most everyone calls me Dotty, so if you’d prefer, you can call me that,” I offer, and he grunts. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh because the grunting is getting ridiculous.

  “I have shit to check on.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Call me Clay.”

  As he walks past me, he stops abruptly. I glance over at him to see he’s starting at the ring on my finger.

  “You’re married?” His question sounds more like an accusation.

  “Engaged.”

  “Engaged,” he repeats, and I nod. “He doesn't care that you’re staying with a man?”

  “I just work here.” And I don’t see why he would care. My fiancé never gave me the time of day, so I still don’t understand why he insisted we get married.

  He lets out a curse, looking madder by the second before he stomps out of the kitchen. A moment later I hear the front door slam. Well, if he wasn’t mad at me before, he is now.

  Too bad I have no idea why.

  Chapter Four

  Clay

  I sleep like shit, so when it’s finally an acceptable hour to get out of bed I’m on my feet. My shower is cold, and my towel is rough and most mornings it doesn’t bother me. But today I feel like my skin is sensitive. Everything that touches it feels uncomfortable and I don’t like it.

  I fucked around in the barn last night until it was way past midnight and I thought Dorothy would be asleep. Dotty. That little bundle piece came out of that car and walked in this house like she belonged here. The goddamn problem is that she looked like she did.

  A city girl with clean jeans and sandals, wearing a too-tight sweater, looked like she fit right in even though this place is a pigsty. I’d never really felt ashamed of my home before because my excuse was that I worked too hard to come home and wash a plate, but seeing her staring at my mess made me want to apologize. But what did I do instead? Oh yeah, stomped out of there like a cat with its tail caught in a barn door and hid out of sight until she was asleep.

  I hung my head in shame as I went to bed, not even bothering to turn on the lights. God, I did so much to update this place, but the past few months have been hard. It’s not that I can’t keep up, but I just keep working myself to the bone
every day, and I’ve let things go. I thought by hiring a live-in cleaner it would help, but now I just feel like a failure.

  After I pull on my jeans without bothering to put on underwear, I grab a white shirt off the top of the dresser. I haven’t done laundry in so long, I’m used to not wearing underwear anymore, and white shirts are cheap and easy to come by.

  I tiptoe past the guest room, carrying my boots in my hand so I don’t wake her up. I pause at her door for a second, and the image of that fucking ring on her finger flashes in my mind. I turn away quickly and make my way downstairs. I’ve never spent time thinking on what it would be like to have a woman, but I’d burn my farm to the ground before I let her sleep in another man’s home. I didn’t realize I could have that kind of anger, and the reaction to her ring surprised me.

  I’m lost in my thoughts when I get to the kitchen and don’t realize the light is on. I stop mid-step when I see Dotty in front of the stove frying up some country ham and gravy.

  “Good morning.” She smiles over at me, and my chest tightens.

  I open my mouth to say something, but I think I might be having a heart attack.

  She’s got her blond hair in a messy bun with no makeup on. She’s got on an oversized T-shirt, long plaid sleep pants and she’s barefoot. There’s nothing sexy about what she has on, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

  Her honey-wheat eyes meet mine, and for a second I can see it. I can see her here in this house as my bride and the mother of my babies. I picture her down here every morning in the kitchen, barefoot and smiling at me as I leave for the day. I can almost feel her warm body pressed against mine as I hold her and just absorb her love into me before I have to go.

  But the shine on her ring catches my attention, and the vision evaporates like smoke.

  I nod as I walk past her and over to the small table in the kitchen because I never eat in the dining room. I pull on my boots and it’s then I glance around and see the kitchen is clean. All the dishes have been put away, and there’s no trace of my mess. God, how long has she been awake, or did she do this last night while I was gone?

  “You hungry?” she asks, holding out the spatula to her side with her other hand on her round hip.

  “Yeah.” I sit back and she serves up a plate with homemade biscuits, and my stomach rumbles. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything homemade that wasn’t me opening a can.

  “I packed you lunch too.” She smiles as she moves around the kitchen like she’s used to being there.

  I take a bite of the ham, biscuit and gravy, and groan. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes because I don’t know if I’ve ever had something so good. She laughs, but I can’t look at her. I can’t see what might be there as I enjoy what she’s made for me. In my mind I think that this is just for me, but she probably gets up early like this all the time and was making her own breakfast. I’ll reap the benefits of it, if that’s the case, but part of me wants to believe that it’s mine. I’m not used to this feeling in my chest, and once again it’s tight. It feels like jealousy, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would I be jealous she did all this when that’s what I’m paying her to do?

  Speaking of paying her, she’s probably up early to get her money. I take my wallet out and pull out a stack of cash. “That’s yours.” I say and nod to the money.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” She smiles again but doesn’t make a move to take it. I go back to eating while she turns on the water at the sink.

  “You not eating?” I ask as I look over for another plate.

  “I have a hard time eating right when I wake up. I usually just have coffee.” She holds up her mug and takes a sip.

  I stop chewing and look at all the food then look back at her in question.

  “I thought you might be hungry, and I knew you’d be up early. I just wanted to start the day off on a better foot than yesterday.” She reaches over and grabs a bagged lunch and places it beside me on the table. “I’m going to go take a shower, but feel free to eat the rest or it will go to waste.”

  She turns around and walks away, and for half a second I want to reach out and grab her. I want to pull her onto my lap and tell her how thankful I am that she did this for me, but I don’t. Instead I sit in silence as she walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs. My plate is empty, but somehow I’m still hungry. I feel hollow inside like I’ve never been full, and I rub at my chest. Why won’t this feeling go away?

  After I eat another plateful of food, I decide to clean up the dishes. She did all this work to make it look nice and got up early to cook for me. The least I can do is put my dishes away. I take my time and dawdle a little longer than necessary, but it’s definitely not because I want to see her again before I leave.

  When I hear Otis whistle outside the barn, I know I’m out of time, so I grab my lunch and my hat on the way out the door. The fall air is cool this morning, and it smells like winter is hot on its heels. At the last second, I go back inside and throw a couple of logs in the fireplace and light it up, thinking that I don’t want Dotty to catch a chill.

  When I get to the barn, Otis gives me an odd look as he drinks his coffee. “You okay this morning?” I nod and he cocks his head to the side. “You look different.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t know really.” He walks over to the stables and places his mug on the railing as he grabs the saddle. “But you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I stop and stare at him as my eyebrows pull together. “What?”

  “Not scared or anything. It’s hard to explain.” He looks me over again as he carries the saddle to the next stall. “You just look like you’ve seen something, maybe something for the first time.”

  Otis turns his back to me as he saddles the horse, and I think about what he’s saying. I glance out of the barn doors and to the big house where Dotty is in the shower. I think about seeing her in the kitchen and how much I ached to hold her. I’ve never been touched by a woman, not even for an embrace, but I imagine a hug from her would make this ache in my chest go away.

  The problem is she’s got a ring on her finger, so she belongs to someone else. But if she were mine, I don’t think I could ever let her go.

  Chapter Five

  Dotty

  I pull the needle through one more time before I cut the thread to the button on Clay’s jeans. There’s no point in throwing them out if I can fix them.

  Laundry was the next task after the kitchen, but it’s mind-boggling the amount of dirty clothes he has. It’s going to take some time to get it all done with only one washer and dryer. A laundromat would be best, but no way am I hauling all this around.

  I fold the jeans and put them with the others, but my eyes keep drifting back to the first load of white shirts I did. I think there will be four loads in total by the time I’m done, which is crazy. It could be five if I keep finding them in random places. Who needs that many shirts?

  My cell buzzes on the table next to me with a text from my sister.

  Kitty: It’s so boring without you here. I volunteered to cook dinner with Mom.

  Me: Yikes.

  A moment later she sends a picture of herself to show how truly bored she is, making me laugh. I miss her too. At least when I marry Judge I’ll be close to her. If I really wanted to, I could walk to Judge’s house from Mom and Dad’s place. I wondered a few times what Judge might say if I asked if my sister to come and live with us. Judge looks like he’s always in a shit mood and grunts a lot of his responses. I think that man was truly raised in a barn, and Clay might have been, too, after seeing his mess.

  Another picture comes through, making me laugh harder as she pretends to put her head in the oven. I would, too, if I had to make dinner with Mom. The woman can’t cook to save her life, but she thinks she’s the best one around. I taught myself because it was that or eat cardboard. As I’m laughing, I hold my phone up and take a picture of myself to send back.

  “What are you d
oing?” I jump and drop my cell phone on the ground as my heart races.

  “You scared me.” For a big man he sure can tiptoe, because I didn't hear him coming at all.

  “These are work hours. Text him on your own time.”

  Clay turns away and stomps back outside before slamming the door behind him. I guess this means he’s still not happy I’m here.

  I bend down and pick up the cell phone and see the screen is cracked. I try and get it to come on, but nothing happens. I swallow the lump in my throat, and when a tear escapes I wipe it away quickly. I put it down and try to get back to work while not thinking about how I just lost my only connection to my sister.

  An hour later and I’m so sick of laundry, I quit for now. It will take him a week to get through what I have washed and folded already, so I put everything away then go to the kitchen for lunch.

  I need to call Kat or she’ll start freaking out if she doesn't hear from me. I saw a landline in the office earlier, so maybe I can use that.

  When I open the fridge, nothing looks appealing, and my stomach complains. I glance at the clock on the microwave and see that I have more than enough time to get to town and back and still be able to make dinner.

  I dart off to my room and grab a jacket and my purse. When I step outside, I see my car is gone, and then I remember Clay saying he’d put it in the barn. I walk over that way to see an older man inside stacking bales of hay. On the other side I see my car and walk over towards it. The older man stops when he sees me, and a slow smile pulls across his sun-weathered face.

  “Hi.” I wave at him, trying to be polite. “I’m Dotty, the new housekeeper.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dotty. I’m Otis.” He holds his hand out for me to shake. “There something I can help you with? I’m guessing Clay won’t like you being out in the barn alone.”

  “My car.” I nod towards it. “I need to run to town, but would you happen to know where the keys are?”