Tobias (Reynolds Ranch Book 2)

  Tobias

  Reynolds Ranch

  C.M. Steele

  Tobias

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2020 © 2022

  All Rights Reserved

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Covergirl Design

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

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  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  ***Tobias was previously published as Tackling Tobias under Lady Boss Press.***

  Grumpy, angry, a curmudgeon…

  Who uses the word ‘curmudgeon’ anymore?

  Those are the words used to describe my new boss and some other less than flattering words. The new boss who doesn’t even know I’ve been hired to invade his private sanctum and run the show. I’m the new cook for Tobias Reynolds, a Montana Cowboy with a surly attitude. I shouldn’t work for him given my background, but my options are limited and it’s a temporary arrangement.

  A violent man left me scars, mostly invisible ones, but they promise me that Tobias will never lay a hand on me. One look at my new boss and I know it’s not his anger I fear, but the raging desire for his touch coursing through me.

  They were wrong about the boss. Tobias can’t seem to keep his hands off me and I don’t want him to stop.

  Beautiful, broken, mine…

  That’s what I see when I look at Ava. From the first second, I saw her, it felt like I’d been tackled to the ground my chest ached so intensely. I want to keep her, but this is just a temporary stop for her. She’s running from someone. Given the black eye, she’s sporting, I’m guessing it’s someone who needs to be taught a lesson.

  I’ve spent my time in the spotlight, but now I’ve gone back to my roots, working my family’s ranch. Some say I’m like a grizzly bear with a thorn in his paw, but I just want to work and go home to a good homecooked meal and some peace and quiet which has been hard to come by.

  It’s not until she shows up that I realize how much more I want out of life. I’ll slay all her dragons, destroy her fears, and do all I can to get her to stay.

  Prologue

  Tobias

  Stepping through my front door after a long day dealing with one problem after another, all I want is a tall glass of iced tea and a hot meal before hitting the shower. My bones ache from baling hay and wrangling a dozen little lambs that broke free. They “baa’ed” their happy little hearts out as they played in the fields like I didn’t have shit to do but haul their little asses inside.

  I take off my hat and run my hands through my hair. Damn, I need a haircut. Rolling my head, I crack my neck and then stretch my shoulders back. My stomach rumbles, reminding me it’s well past dinnertime. Irritation hits me immediately when I don’t smell food cooking like I should.

  Snarling to myself, I hang up my hat on the rack by the door before making my way toward the kitchen to see if she made a salad again. I already warned the woman that I worked too damn hard to eat a salad for dinner. I’m not a damn rabbit.

  I fucking hate salads. I’m six five, two-fifty, and in great physical condition, and I need real damn calories to keep my body fueled. As a former athlete, I’d max six thousand calories just to keep muscle. Now retired, I still need four thousand because I stay busy on my family ranch, working brutally hard daily.

  I push open the swinging kitchen door and stare. “Son of a bitch.” There’s not a damn thing on the stove—no pots simmering or dishes on the counter. In fact, the room looks exactly like it did at breakfast when she had heated up frozen breakfast burritos.

  Nothing.

  Where the hell is that woman? My cook and housekeeper, Nina, started working a few weeks back after my last cook, Thelma, retired. Well, she quit, but I like to say retired. It makes me look less like an ass that way. Not that I care what people think, but no one wants to work for a bossy bastard.

  I have gone through more cooks since my mother passed than in my entire life. I don’t know if it’s my surly attitude or my need for shit to be done on time that sends them packing, but they’ve always gone. This one has to beat it as well. I’ve had enough of her flighty behavior. I reach into the fridge to pour myself a cold drink, and the fucking pitcher of iced tea is empty.

  What sick, twisted soul puts it back in the fridge ass-empty?

  I snatch up a bottle of water to quench my thirst. It’s the end of the summer, so the heat and hard work make me endlessly thirsty. I take out the pointlessly chilled pitcher and set it on the counter. I’ll deal with that problem later.

  Did she take a nap or something? She’s a few years older than me, but she doesn’t have a work ethic at all. If I knew how to cook, I’d have no use for her, but I burn everything but coffee, and even that’s total shit.

  I don’t know this woman well, but she came from an agency that specializes in that kind of thing. She’s not a great cook and her cleaning has gone from good to nonexistent. I’m too damn tired most days to care, but she finally pushed me to the end of my patience. She’s going to need to find another job right away. I storm out of my kitchen, needing to find that lazy woman who sets my teeth on edge.

  Dang, I don’t hear any noise as I walk through the entire first floor, and she’s nowhere to be found. Tapping on her bedroom door, I don’t get a response, so I look inside her bedroom on the first floor and it’s empty and a complete mess.

  Letting out a harsh breath, I hiss, “Screw it.” I need a damn shower anyway. Closing her door, I stomp up the stairs toward my bedroom. As soon as I hit the landing, I hear the first sounds of movement—the telltale sound of the floorboard in my bedroom that I need to fix creaks loudly.

  “What the hell?” I whisper to myself, grateful that I keep a gun on me. Is someone in the family safe? That’s the only damn reason I can imagine someone being in there. There’s another safe in my office, but it’s a hidden one. Still, only those who have been in this house and close to the family would know about the one in my bedroom.

  “He’s coming. Shit. Hide,” I hear in a hushed female tone. Hurried movements and the sound of clothes rustling tell me all I need
to know. The safe has nothing to do with what’s going on in there. Something more depraved is going on inside a room it shouldn’t be. Rage boils in me because I can tell she’s not inside making my bed, which isn’t something I had her do anyway because she’s not allowed in my bedroom.

  Seething, I slam my door open to find my ranch hand buttoning his pants while Nina’s covering herself with my favorite blanket.

  “Get the fuck out of my house.” My voice shakes the damn rafters. This is a level of pissed off I haven’t been in a long time. There are six bedrooms in this house including the housekeeper’s one on the first floor, and they choose mine to disrespect me in. Soiling my bed with the clear intent to insult me.

  “I’m sorry, Tobias.” His eyes beg me not to fire his ass, but he can go over and find a new position elsewhere because I don’t tolerate fucking lying assholes and he told me a whopper of one to get out of work early. I shake my head, glaring at the bastard, wanting to clock him in the jaw, but I don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.

  “No, I’m the sorry one. Your kid getting sick must have been a quick illness. Get off my property before I call the police or decide to bury you in my field.” We’re super busy, and this fucker’s having sex in my bed. I could kill him.

  My attention turns to the bitch on my bed. Shit, I’m going to have to throw away those sheets. Maybe even the mattress. “That goes for you, too. You get out of my bed. You’re fired. I want you out now,” I bark out, teeth clenched.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she pleads, slowly loosening the sheet and rising to her knees in a seductive pose to reveal her tits to me like I’ve got any interest in her worn out body. I don’t. I made my momma one damn promise before she died that I’d never let any woman into my bed that wasn’t going to be my wife, the mother of my child. This broad crossed the line.

  “I don’t give a damn about that. Get your nasty ass off my bed.” Every second that passes, my anger intensifies, blurring my vision with indignation. I’d never hit a woman, but she’s sorely testing my patience. My former ranch hand scowls at her audacity, seeing her easily offering her body to me after just taking his dick. He has the nerve to actually look pissed. He’s married with kids.

  I never understood that urge for infidelity. Maybe it’s that my parents had a rock-solid marriage that makes me think how disgusting this shit show is. “Hurry the fuck up before I use my gun.”

  My phone rings at the same time, and I really don’t need this mess. My head’s pounding at my temples, so I step out of the room and take the call from Big John Morrison, my foreman.

  “Hey, Tobias. We have a problem.” I never like the sound of that, although I’m hard-pressed to find anyone wanting additional problems after a full day of grueling work.

  “What now?” I grumble, running my hand through my hair and staring at my bedroom door, waiting for these assholes to leave. Suddenly the bastard inside is barking at her about being a whore. I laugh at the sheer audacity of it.

  “The labor’s breach. The vet’s pulling up now.” Shit. I had a feeling my cow was taking too long to deliver. Damn, I hope she doesn’t die. I’d hate to lose another cow. Surprisingly, it doesn’t happen often, but it’s a loss that we have to eat.

  “Son of a bitch. Okay. I’ll be down there soon. I’ve got a matter to deal with in the house,” I grit out, rubbing my jaw.

  “Oh no. Firing another damn housekeeper?” I might have a bad fucking habit that he’s well aware of. My temper’s short, and I don’t suffer fools. I’d just been complaining that Nina was on her last chance with me and anything would land her on the unemployment line, but this left her without any civility from me.

  “And Ruiz,” I spit out, disgust dripping from my lips.

  “What?” he exclaims. I’m sure he’ll have a thousand questions. I don’t keep him in suspense for long.

  “The bastard was fucking her in my bed—in my fucking bed.” Just as the words come out of my mouth, she comes running out and down the stairs while Ruiz goes after her. I frankly don’t care about it, but I can’t in good conscience allow him to hurt her.

  “In your bed?” He knows about my mother’s request because he’d been there the day she died. He’s been with the family for two decades. He’s like a big brother to me. He’s only five years older than me. We’re close, so much so that I was his best man when he married Louisa.

  “Yes. Out of all the places in the house. I bet they thought they’d get a fucking kick out of it,” I grouse, making my way back down the stairs to check on the two assholes.

  I’m not a virgin, but my mom wanted this to be a family home—one where I made her grandbabies. I’d have to have sex for that, and it’s been so long that I can’t even remember it. Since I retired from the NFL, I’ve been too busy to look for a date. Maybe that’s why I’m in a shit mood.

  When I step out onto the porch, Ruiz and Nina are gone. I could pretend to care, but I don’t because I’m too keyed up with concern for my animals to worry about them. “They left.”

  “Good. You don’t need that right now.” Damn right. There’s enough on my plate without dealing with some terrible employees.

  “Yeah. Fuck it.” Not my problem anymore. “I’m on my way.” I end the call and tuck my phone in my back pocket. Stopping back inside for another drink, I take the water bottle and then lock up the house because I don’t want her ass sneaking back inside. I’ll have one of the crew pack up her suitcase and leave it for her on the porch. As soon as the house is secured, I hurry down to the barn to deal with the breached birth.

  “Man, my life has changed,” I mutter. Taking over the ranch when my father died four years ago forced me to return to my roots. Not that I had much of a life, but I had a career in the NFL with the Chicago Bears as a tight end, making millions a year and playing a sport I used to love while living in a major city and not worried about livestock.

  It’s not that I don’t love my family heritage or the ranching lifestyle, but it’s just me still standing in this large home with no family nearby. My only sister lives in Chicago with her husband and kids. After following me out there to go to school, she met Landon and attending college didn’t last long because they were expecting their first kid before we knew it.

  “You look like shit,” John says as soon as I enter the stall. Not that he looks much better after the day we both had, but he loves to bust my chops.

  “Thanks. I’m tired and hungry on top of being pissed the fuck off.” Seeing her on my bed made me livid. Ruiz was lucky that I didn’t find him on my bed or I would have shot him on the spot.

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, they were able to get the little calf to come out. Mother and baby unharmed,” he says, clapping my upper arm.

  I let out a sigh, letting my shoulders drop with relief. That’s great, considering the stress the cow had been under all afternoon. “Good. That’s really damn good.” After everything today, I could use something positive.

  I head outside the barn to check out the sun setting over the mountains. Despite my anger and fatigue, the sight has a way of lightening my mood.

  “Mr. Reynolds, everything should be back to normal in a couple of days. You know the drill. If she has any issues, please don’t hesitate to call,” Angela, our vet says, shaking my hand. She’s a petite blonde, but she handles these animals like she’s my size.

  “Great. Thank you for coming out here at the last minute.”

  “It’s what I live for. Now, excuse me. I have a date tonight.” She smiles and hops into her truck. John and I look back and forth at each other. It’s not like her to date. She’s all work and no play. “I’ll email you my bill tomorrow.”

  I nod and wave goodbye. She’s amazing with these animals.

  “I’m without another hand and a cook,” I grumble as John stands next to me, watching the sunset.

  “At least winter’s on its way,” he remarks. Nodding, I can agree with that. Winter means fewer hours of work to do.

>   “Yeah. It’s getting darker earlier.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I really do need to get it cut. I’ll head in tomorrow morning to get that done since I’ll be putting up some flyers in search of a new cook and getting my own breakfast. Although given my reputation, it’s going to be hard to find a sucker willing to put up with my shit.

  “So who’s willing to go in there and pack up her shit for me? I need to strip my bed,” I say as we make our way toward the house and his truck, which is parked by the path that leads to my driveway.

  “That’s some shit. I wonder if they just thought it would be dangerous fun or to be assholes,” he says, pulling out his cell phone. He’s probably going to call his wife to let her know he’s on his way home.

  “Either way, I’m fucking pissed off. Now I’ve got a lot of shit to do. Seems like I’ll be sleeping on the sofa.”

  “Do you want me to call in one of those companies that have a group of maids to clean quickly?”

  “Yeah. I guess I’ll be eating with you guys for the time being since finding a cook is a lot harder.” After spending years on the road in locker rooms, at diners, I’d had enough of the whole communal life. I like my solitude. “Well, I’m off to make a sandwich. Send someone over when you can to get her shit cleared.”

  “Will do. My wife always has food cooking. I’ll have her share if you want to come over. It’s spaghetti night.”

  “I’d love to have Louisa’s cooking, but I’m afraid that if I’m not here when she gets back, shit’s going to hit the fan. Damn, I’m going to need a new lock as well,” I say as the thought crosses my mind.

  “No problem. We’re only five minutes away if you change your mind. I’ll see what I can do about the maids in the morning.”

  “Thanks, John. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Probably die a miserable old man. Scratch that—you’re already halfway to the old and way past miserable. I think you need to find you a good girl to marry and settle down with.”