Lissa- Sugar and Spice (The Wilde Sisters 3)

“Yes. I’m fine with it. Where at LAX?”

Marcia told her. Gave her the details. And then, just before she hung up, she said something completely out of character.

She said, “Good luck.”

* * *

The phone at the Triple G Ranch rang at the same time the wheezing grandfather clock in the hall struck half past eleven.

Nick Gentry, sprawled on his belly on an ancient leather sofa, groaned in his sleep, felt blindly for a throw pillow and jammed it over his head.

The phone and the clock pealed again.

“Goddammit,” Nick snarled, rolled over—and landed on the floor.

He cursed again at the sharp pain that radiated through his leg. It’ll get better, the physical therapists said. Yeah. Right. Maybe in a century or two.

Where the fuck was he? He opened one eye, saw the moose head hanging on the wall, the glassy-eyed grizzly pawing the air in the corner, the mounted bass that had to have been on steroids doing its eternal swim beside the moose, and groaned again.

He was in the den at the Triple G.

Jesus, how he hated this place!

A big wet tongue slobbered across his face.

Nick shoved aside the big-as-a-pony black Newfoundland that went with the tongue. He struggled up on his ass, then felt in the pockets of his jeans, his quilted vest, his plaid wool shirt, and finally found the phone.

“This better be good,” he said as he put it to his ear.

“It’s Marcia Lowry, Mr. Bannister.”

The dog licked at him again. Nick grabbed the huge muzzle and moved it aside.

“Who?”

“Marcia Lowry. The agent. From Cooks Unlimited?”

Nick closed his eyes, then blinked them open. What he’d meant was, who was Mr. Bannister? For a minute there, he’d forgotten the name he’d used when he’d phoned Cooks Unlimited. Hell, he’d more or less forgotten he’d phoned Cooks Unlimited to start with.

“Yeah. Right. So, you have somebody for me?”

“I do, Mr. Bannister. In accordance with your instructions, I told her your plane would pick her up at LAX tomorrow.”

Nick grabbed a crutch and staggered to his feet. Bad move; it made his head feel as if it might explode, never mind what it did to his leg.

“What’s with the ‘she’ business, Lowry? I told you, I wanted a man. This isn’t a place for a woman.”

“I made several calls on your behalf, sir. I’m afraid this was the best I could do on such short notice. If you’d contacted me sooner or if you could just give me another week—”

“I have half a dozen men to feed here. I gave you the same notice my last cook gave me.”

“I understand that, Mr. Bannister. And you have to understand that the only person who showed any interest in this job was Ms. Wilde.”

Nick found his way to the kitchen, hobbling, bumping against things in the dark, the Newf damn near plastered to his side.

Coffee. He needed coffee, black and strong.

The coffeepot was empty.