Wrangled and Tangled Page 6

  And she sure wasn’t helping matters, acting as if she’d never seen an erect cock before.

  The more she stared, the happier his dick was to swell with pride, doing a stellar flagpole imitation.

  About a year later, Tierney dragged her gaze away from his groin and looked him in the eye. “This is why I was against casual Thursdays. There’s always that one person who takes it too far.”

  “You’re fuckin’ hilarious.” He set his hands on his hips. “I’m thinking we need a cabinet in the bathroom for clothes.”

  “Maybe you should put it on your to-do list,” she suggested sweetly.

  The woman was such a smart-ass. “Did you even look at it?” he demanded.

  Silence.

  Her gaze lowered to his groin again and then zoomed back up to his eyes. “Yes, I looked at it. Do you want an assessment of its length?”

  Well, hell, that’d been the wrong thing to say. He blushed. Goddammit, he never blushed. “We are talkin’ about the list, right?”

  “Of course. What did you think we were talking about?” She sashayed past him. Close enough the end of her ponytail tickled his collarbone. Close enough he swore the silky fabric of her skirt brushed the tip of his cock. Close enough to bend over and pick up his towel. “I believe you dropped this.” She tossed it to him and slid behind her massive desk.

  Damn her. Mostly damn her cool reaction to him standing in front of her buck-ass nekkid. Renner wasn’t a guy who strutted around shirtless like some gym rat, but he knew his body appealed to women. All women.

  All women except for Tierney Pratt.

  Maybe she was gay.

  Maybe you’re a sorry son of a bitch for thinking she has to be gay to not be attracted to you, asshole.

  Just to be ornery, Renner slung the towel over his shoulder. He opened the closet and reached for his clothing. When he turned around, he caught Miz An-Erect-Naked-Man-Doesn’t-Faze-Me . . . eyeballing his ass. Big-time.

  Okay. So Tierney definitely wasn’t gay.

  For some reason, that made him happy. So happy in fact, that he whistled as he nonchalantly strolled back to the bathroom. As much as he wanted to stop at her desk and ask a question, he didn’t.

  That’d be over the top.

  Chapter Eight

  Tierney wouldn’t be dreading this meeting if she hadn’t seen Renner Jackson naked yesterday. Totally naked. Right in front of her. All rough-skinned, scarred, muscled, and aroused masculine excellence.

  God. How had she managed not to stare at his penis—his fully erect penis—longer than she had? Her feigned bored expression? An Oscar-worthy performance for sure. Even if she had gotten busted two seconds later for ogling his butt.

  After Renner meandered back to the bathroom, Tierney had to drop her head between her knees to keep from hyperventilating. She’d seen naked men in movies. In magazines. She’d even attended a nude, all-male revue in Las Vegas. But having a hunky man with that buff body so close to her? First time ever.

  And it was also the first time she’d experienced overpowering lust. A need to put her hands all over those incredibly toned muscles. A need to put her mouth on his as she touched him. An urge unlike any she’d ever felt. A longing to wrap her fingers around his girth, watching his eyes burn with lust as she learned how to drive him wild with her hands. With her mouth. Any way he wanted. Any time. Any place.

  It’d shocked her.

  It’d annoyed her.

  Flustered, she’d fled the office in an attempt to convince herself it was far better to be repelled by Renner than to be captivated by him.

  The smarmy part of her brain taunted, too late for that, when the door opened and Mr. Captivating himself moseyed on in.

  “You summoned me?” he drawled.

  “Yes. I wanted to go over a few things.”

  “Is this a fortify myself with whiskey conversation? Or a fortify myself with coffee conversation?”

  “Coffee. I just made a fresh pot. Help yourself.”

  He poured a cup and wandered to the seating area. “Can we do this over here? Sitting in front of your desk makes me feel like a naughty kid who’s been sent to the principal’s office.”

  “You would know all about that, I imagine.”

  He laughed. “Nice shot at me first thing.”

  “I meant it to be funny.” She sat on the opposite end of the couch since he’d put his boots on the coffee table.

  “Your sense of humor needs work.”

  Tierney pushed her glasses up her nose. “Now who’s taking potshots?”

  He flashed that naughty-boy grin. “Sorry. What’s up?”

  “Now that we’ve been open a few days, I’ve drafted a list of what’s working and what needs improvement.” She knew enough about management to start with the positive aspects and gradually segue into the negative aspects. “I compiled the final financial data for the construction. The cost overruns were expected, but I have to admit, comparing the initial blueprints to the revised ones, I believe the additional building costs were justified.”

  Renner’s mug stopped halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”

  “Connecting the four separate buildings made sense, given the Wyoming winters. And it creates the illusion of a bigger resort.”

  “It was a pain in the ass leveling the area and pouring more footings. We didn’t add much in material costs since I’d purchased in bulk, but our labor costs were higher.”

  She tapped the building plans in front of her. “The overall flow, the main lodge and guest areas at the center, separate dining and entertainment area to the left, and the retail section to the right, is easier for guests and employees to navigate. The additional square footage for the dining area makes a difference in terms of retaining the open feeling.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “That addition was pricier, because for some reason we’d forgotten to add laundry facilities to the initial plans. Luckily we had room to expand rearward. Relocating the bar and game room away from the lodge keeps it a place to relax.”

  “I haven’t heard any more complaints about the food.”

  “Janie dealt with Dodie.”

  “Where did you find the rest of the employees?” Tierney didn’t ask if he’d requested references, and if he had, if he’d actually checked them.

  “I have no idea. Janie handled the employee hiring.”

  “All of it? Without your input?”

  “No. When she found someone to fill a position she ran it by me. I trust her gut and she trusts mine.”

  “Which works, but the bottom line is we don’t have all of the advertised services up and running, so we need to make some hard decisions about those services.”

  His eyes challenged hers. “Ain’t that why Daddy sent you here? To make those types of financial decisions? I’m surprised you’re even giving me an option.”

  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t take his bait today, no matter how juicy it was or how close he dangled it. “Whose idea was the spa?”

  “Mine. I thought it’d be a nice draw for guys who wanna bring women here. Give the ladies something to do while the men are out doin’ their thing.”

  “What constitutes a spa in your opinion?”

  He scratched his chin. “Fuck if I know. A place for women to hang out.”

  “You constructed an entire building around this concept,” she chided. “You have to be more specific.”

  “A place for a woman to get her fingernails and toenails painted. A place to get some of that organic goop slopped on her face. Then she’s got her choice between soaking in a deep tub with herbs and shit thrown in or having a massage. Then we’d serve girlie food for lunch and lots of fruity alcoholic drinks with umbrellas.” He flashed his captivating smile. “Did I pass?”

  “No. It’s not sustainable. Why is the building an empty shell and construction stopped?”

  “It wasn’t a priority after we added to the original building plans. The main areas needed finishing first according
to the specific timeline in your father’s contract.”

  Another jab she left unanswered. “It’s a good thing the spa aspect wasn’t realized.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Spas require specialized employees. Most spas boast a variety of services—manicures, pedicures, hot wax treatments, aromatherapy, as well as massages. No one has hired a single qualified employee to handle any of these specific beauty-related services.” Tierney cocked her head, looking at him curiously. “Unless you intend on painting toenails and slopping face gunk on female guests?”

  She sensed Renner wanted to tell her to deal with the luxury spa idea, since the high-end idea was right up her daddy’s little rich-girl alley, but he didn’t. “Everyone has fuckups.”

  “Renner. This is not a simple fuckup. This is a fatal flaw.”

  “On a financial level?”

  “Not yet. And I want to keep it from becoming one.”

  He crossed those muscular arms over that muscular chest and stared at her coolly. “How?”

  “By eliminating the spa concept entirely.” Tierney stopped his interruption. “I’ve scoured the reservations for the next six months. From what I’ve gathered, exactly two female guests are interested in spa services. What does that tell you?”

  “Our marketing plan is a piece of shit?”

  “Partially. But it means we can cut out this spa option without losing our ass or without pissing off existing customers. It’ll take little more than a Web site change. We’ll delete any reference to the word spa and luckily the brochures just feature the lodge.”

  Renner looked at her pensively.

  “Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.”

  “That’s the thing, Tierney. You’re not wrong. I won’t argue with you on this just for the sake of arguing.”

  She was pretty sure her jaw hit the coffee table.

  “Between us? Some of these hospitality things weren’t well planned. I take full responsibility for it. The Split Rock shouldn’t try and be all things to all people. We’d be better off focusing on the Western element. Hunting, fishing, hiking, trail rides. I’d still like to get men and women here, but I don’t want this place to get a reputation as a romantic couples retreat.”

  “Because calling it such wouldn’t make it more appealing to women at all,” Tierney said wryly.

  “Very funny. If you noticed I didn’t call it a dude ranch either.”

  “Again, dude ranch implies hot cowboys. What woman isn’t all over that concept?”

  Renner leaned forward to bestow a sinful grin. “Are you all over the concept of hot cowboys?”

  Only if you’re the hot cowboy who’d be all over me.

  Tierney tossed off, “Of course. Since moving to Wyoming I understand the appeal of men who exist in Wranglers, chaps, hats and boots, real men who make their living in the great outdoors. I never did before.”

  “I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Other things I’ve said have been just as honest—you just didn’t want to hear them.”

  “You may be right. As long as we’re bein’ honest, can I ask you something?”

  Do I want to see you naked again? Absolutely. “Sure.”

  “How much experience do you have with on-site management?”

  “None. However, I will qualify that by saying I’ve been financial overseer for several PFG properties for the last two years. So I’m very good at cost analysis. I lack hands-on experience on the management end. As you’ve pointed out. Repeatedly.”

  Renner gave her a hangdog look.

  “I’m here to learn. Not to spy.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that from the start?”

  “We’re not exactly friends.” She studied him quizzically. “How much experience do you have within the hospitality industry?”

  No answer. Several long moments passed.

  Guess her honesty didn’t guarantee his. She shuffled the papers together. “I think—”

  “Tierney. Look at me.”

  She raised her head to meet his gaze and melted a little seeing the softness and sweetness of his smile.

  Damn his charming cowboy hide. The man was getting to her.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m no stranger to management. I’m used to workin’ with men. I’m the boss, they do what they’re told and don’t question it.” Renner’s least favorite part of owning the Split Rock was dealing with employees. He had no problem barking orders at his stock manager Hugh Pritchett, or at half a dozen cowboys and stock handlers, but bossing the women on staff... didn’t feel right.

  You’ve got no issue bossing Tierney.

  That was different.

  You don’t hold any real power over her anyway.

  True. Maybe that’s why he was always pissy around her.

  No, you’re flustered because the woman riles you up in ways you’ve long forgotten.

  “Something else on your mind?” she asked.

  He frowned and swigged the coffee that’d gone cold. “You know them pens I’ve been workin’ on? We had the blowup last week about wasting my time on building livestock containment areas? Especially when those containment areas remained empty?”

  “Then you snapped that Jackson Stock Contracting was footing the bill. I seem to recall you blowing a gasket about me questioning you.”

  He wouldn’t apologize for that dispute. Little Miz Spreadsheet had been out of line. “I always intended to move the rough stock up here.”

  “I know. But why?”

  “I’d rather be based out of Wyoming. Kansas ain’t my home.” It never had been. After his father and Boz died, he would’ve been happy never seeing another wheat field.

  “And Wyoming is your home?”

  “Right after I bought the land, before I ever scraped away a shovelful of dirt to set the footings for the buildings, this was where I wanted to be.” Maybe it was foolish, telling her how much this chunk of rock and dirt meant to him when it provided ammo to use against him. So he backtracked. “Then again, I didn’t spring for the sweet setup you’ve got. Bet that cabin set your daddy back a pretty penny.” Another example of the many differences between them. She wouldn’t make do if she didn’t have to.

  Tierney’s eyes flashed a warning but she held her tongue for a change.

  Rather than snipe at her for the silver spoon in her mouth, he continued brusquely, “The problem is I haven’t moved the stock up here yet, but that doesn’t change the rodeo schedules I’ve committed to. I’m taking off after supper tonight because I’m needed at a rodeo in Nebraska tomorrow. I’ll be back late Sunday.”

  “Excellent timing. You’re gone. Harper’s gone. Janie’s limping around. I’m stuck dealing with Dodie, Lisa, Denise, LouLou and that groundskeeper guy . . . what’s his name?”

  “Willie. Groundskeeper Willie.”

  Tierney didn’t crack a smile at The Simpsons reference. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You wanted hands-on management experience, darlin’, looks like you’ve got it.”

  Renner’s phone rang at four a.m. Never a good sign. He picked it up from the passenger seat and said, “Jackson.”

  “Ren? It’s Hugh. Look, we just got to the fairgrounds and were getting ready to unload the steers and . . . Shit, no easy way to say this. They’re all dead.”

  “What the fuck? All of ’em?”

  “Yeah. It’s the goddamndest thing. I have no idea what happened.”

  “Which one of our trucks did you use to haul them?”

  Pritchett sighed. “That’s the problem. It ain’t one of our trailers. We were short a truck so we rented from the stockyard. Had to’ve been something inside, ’cause all the livestock ate outta the same load of hay as the bulls and none of them are sick.”

  “Fuck.” Renner cracked open his last can of Red Bull. “I assume you’ve isolated the load?”

  “Right away.”

  “Here’s what you do.” Renner rattled
off the options. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time