Lipstick and Leather: Three Sexy Cowboys, Three Sexy Tales by Cheyenne McCray Page B

woke to bright sunlight spilling into her room. She felt relaxed and rested. She stretched her arms and yawned and casually looked at the clock on the nightstand. She bolted straight up in bed. A quarter to nine.
    She had told Joe to assemble everyone at nine and she wasn’t even up yet. She scrambled out of bed, almost tripping over a rug.
    Her suitcases were where Joe had left them. Usually she liked everything neat and orderly, but she would just have to deal with things being a mess. She unzipped the largest of the bags and grabbed a skirt and blouse along with a pair of panties and a bra.
    She yanked on her clothing and looked at herself in the vanity mirror and almost groaned at the site of her hair sticking up and her face with no makeup. She hurried to go through her overnight bag and dug out a brush before she yanked it through her hair.
    This time she picked out flats instead of heels. They were attractive and went with her favorite business blouse and skirt. She rushed to put on foundation, blusher, eye shadow, liner and mascara.
    She was five minutes late when she practically flew to the front door. It wasn’t good to be late her first day. When she reached the door she realized she had forgotten her notebook.
    Two more minutes passed before she made it outside and she saw Joe and the nine ranch hands who worked on the ranch. And worked for her now.
    The men had gathered at the gate to a corral. Some of them had their backs up against the wood bars of the corral while others stood around. They were already dirty at this early hour of nine in the morning.
    The porch screen door slapped shut behind her and she walked down the porch stairs with a smile fixed on her face. The desert was already starting to dry out from last night’s rain but she still felt wet earth cling to her shoes.
    The breeze smelled clean at first but the odor of something not so fresh reached her, coming from the corral. Old memories came to her of that smell that had once been familiar.
    She had been so young she was surprised she remembered.

    She tried to read the ranch hands’ faces as she headed toward the men. Joe was particularly hard to read. The others’ expressions looked anywhere from blank to calm to irritated.
    One of the men spit and she grimaced as she saw brown goo splatter the ground. Chewing tobacco.
    “Hi.” She smiled at the tough-looking men when she reached them. “I’m Brianna Wilson, Bill Wilson’s daughter.”
    A couple of men touched the brims of their cowboy hats in what she thought was greeting while others gave her a nod and others stood with their arms crossed.
    Through the wooden bars she saw little cows that looked like they were crying. “Do those little cows want their mothers?” she asked as she tried to break the silence.
    Some of the men appeared to be struggling to hold back laughter while others looked like they would have rolled their eyes if they weren’t a bunch of tough cowboys.
    Joe cleared his throat and kept a straight face. “Yes, ma’am. The calves are bawling for their mothers.”
    “Oh.” Calves. Great. She could vaguely remember her daddy teaching her that twenty-nine years ago.
    She should have studied up more on the basics of ranch life in addition to going over the books and overall operations. Now she probably looked like a real novice. Well, she was a fast learner like she had told Joe.
    She held her notebook to her chest. “I’ve been going over the books and the ranch is in the red.” She kept her voice calm but serious. “Thus, there are going to be some changes around here.”
    Her words were met with silence.
    She took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to cut wages.” Expressions shifted from cautious to pissed. She’d expected that. “It’s one of the actions that needs to be taken to keep the ranch from going under.”
    “Guess you’ll be looking for a new set of hands,” one cowboy said, “because I sure as hell ain’t gonna hang around with shit