"I suppose you'll be wanting to turn in as there are several hours difference in the time zones," he suggested to her. His eyes returned to his papers and when she rose to escape he halted her.
"Before you go, there are a few rules I would like to establish - as well as some of the duties that will be expected of you."
She nodded, only wishing to escape to a private place where she could maraud over her thoughts. She had never been this miserable in her entire life.
He told her, "First, we don't live on formality at Cactus Ridge. Drop the sir and stick to calling me Mak, just like all the other men around here. Two, no drinking or smokes inside the house."
"I've never drank or smoked in my life!" she spat out hastily, glad she had remembered to use her deeper voice.
"What?"
Lace blinked hard, inwardly fumbling for an answer. It was obvious that Mak was startled by her comment, probably considering it natural for a young man to take to habits.
The announcement shocked him. This was definitely alter-boy material. The boy may be young, but hell, he'd had his share of liquor at Larry's age.
She swallowed hard then offered, "A, um…man has his choices and I - I made mine." As Mak sat there staring at her with that crazed questioning look on his face, she taked on for good measure, "Baptist, you know."
She drew up her chin and waited for his opinion, for she was certain one would follow. Why had she spoken so freely, charging up his interest when that had been the last thing she had wanted to accomplish?
"I see," he supplied dryly, a hidden smirk becoming transparent. "Back to the rules, son. Women aren't allowed in your bedroom. Any urges will have to be taken care of off the ranch grounds; understand? The first time I catch - "
"I'm not interested in women!" Lace flung out too prematurely and again, his hazel eyes braided with confusion as he suddenly viewed her distastefully. But she couldn't just sit there and let him continue, going on to say only God knew what!
Wonderful, just wonderful. Snorting, jock itch, pinworm-infested, Baptist virgin. He reigned his thoughts as something passed his mind.
"You aren't one of those funny boys, are you, Larry?" he ground out in an acid-like tone.
She widened her eyes and assured, "Absolutely not!"
Mak seemed to relax and leaned back in the leather chair, clasping his large hands behind the bronzed head. He looked so rugged, like a free vagabond and for an instant she envied him.
He could roam wherever he wanted, choose any destiny of life that he so desired. He appeared confident and she secretly wondered that if he knew she was a woman, would he still act so natural?
Yes, Makenna was a handsome fellow she considered as he continued to cite his list of rules. Under any other circumstance she might have been attracted to him.
"What do you prefer; an abacus or a calculator?" she mocked with a weak laugh of her own, feeling like she had made a feeble attempt to lighten the moment.
However, Makenna smiled at her.
Yes, Larry would do just fine, he silently decided. Good sense of humor, appeared half-intelligent; yes, he'd do just fine after his infestations were eradicated, of course.
"We'll see," he told her still smiling. "Go get some rest, son. Come morning, we'll be starting early."
She took her things, what little there were, to a room upstairs that Mak had directed her to. It was a large, beautiful room - the furnishings quite masculine. It cried out for a dash of color, the buckskin and leather lovely, but left wanting.
It was evident that Mr. Jones had money. Shame that he lacked decorating skills. That cracked oval mirror in the kitchen should be illegal.
The room also had a massive private bath that speared off to the left, much larger than the one that her and father had shared back home.
As much as she hated to admit, this was probably much nicer than the bunkhouse, not to mention what she might have glimpsed ....or heard there.
As she unpacked the new clothes that her uncle had purchased she decided it best not to tackle the two suitcases that she had brought from home. She wasn't sure who would be coming or going and it would be best not to get caught in the act.
As she settled into the comfortable bed, sleep instantly claimed her.
At six o'clock the next morning she heard an unwelcome tap on her door, instructing that breakfast was ready and waiting.
It didn't take long to jump into clean jeans and pull on an oversized shirt. Today, she chose the bright, horrid red one that clashed with her blond hair. However, once the hat was installed into position, the outfit was toned down a bit.
Men had it so easy, she silently pondered as she tucked and adjusted. No makeup, jewelry, pedicures or complicated undergarments. However she was still having difficultly adjusting to the under gear.
Today she wore a pair of jockey shorts and the empty pouch in front kept wadding up and it didn't help matters that they were ten sizes too large. Right before she exited the room, she decided to remove them. She needed to be comfortable today.
As she replaced them in the chest of drawers, she glanced at her short stubby nails, still a bit peeved at uncle for making her clip them off on the drive over.
Then down the stairs and to the kitchen she flew where Mak was seated eating breakfast at a round oak table.
A wide, middle-aged gentleman stood strapped to the hot kitchen stove minding a skillet with something bubbling inside.
"Our cook and housekeeper, Frank DeLane," Mak explained just before his full lips clamped over the rim of the steaming mug of coffee. After a long sip of the hot liquid he drawled to Frank, "This is Larry, my new errand boy."
"Hell, son," Frank eased out, absorbed with the hot skillet. "Best sit down before your plate goes stone cold. It's up early around here and you better get accustomed to it if you don't like taking your meals cold."
"Yes, sir," she managed, scooting out the chair against the ceramic tiles, Frank obviously a bit aggravated over her tardiness. Bet he would have taken time to remove those baggy shorts too, Lace silently justified
