Wanted: Fairy Godmother

Chapter 1

N eed a refill, sugar?

Jake Lassiter drummed his fingers on the sleek, shiny surface of the restaurant table. The rhythmic movements jangled his empty coffee cup in its saucer.

Where was the only woman who answered his help wanted ad, anyway?

Someone snapping their fingers near his ear jerked him out of his wayward thoughts.

About time you noticed me. Refill? Flossie Thurmond, everyone’s favorite waitress, asked, bringing his full attention to her. She patted her bright blue and white striped hair, piled in a bun, and chomped on a wad of gum.

He grinned, shoving his empty coffee cup in her direction. Sure. Why not? Nodding his head at her newly dyed hair, he asked, Routing for the home team?

We’re one game away from going to the state champs. Of course, I’d do anything for our school spirit. And you keep smiling at me like that, honey, and I’m liable to spill this all over you. She winked saucily, flirting with him as she poured the rich, inky-black coffee from the glass pot. Someone stood you up, Jake?

Looks like it, Floss.

The girl’s nothing but a fool, if you ask me. She glanced over her shoulder, and said to the passing waitress, Hey, honey, I’m gonna take five so I can speak to my buddy Jake here.

Trudy, with her mousy-brown hair spilling from her ponytail, giggled, and then took the coffeepot from her.

Flossie slid onto the bench seat opposite Jake’s. You still fretting about them pesky city slicker cousins of yours? You know Huey, Dewy, and Louie. She cackled. Or should I call them Moe, Curly, and Larry? she asked, slapping the table as another burst of laughter escaped. And I can call you Shep.

Jake threw her a dark glare, and then raked a hand through his hair. His unexpected guardianship proved the source of many jokes in Rosebud County, Montana. A diehard confirmed bachelor, Jake had taken his share of ribbing over his present situation.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye. Oh, I’m so funny. I crack myself up.

"That’s right, yourself."

Come on. Lighten up. It’s only been a couple of months. It can’t be all that bad.

Seven weeks, three days, and fourteen hours, to be exact.

Flossie whistled softly between her teeth. That bad, huh?

Worse. Jake groaned silently at what had brought him to this point in his life. His uncle and aunt should never have flown their plane in that nasty thunderstorm.

His heart clenched for his cousins’ overwhelming despair, but his gypsy soul hungered for his beloved liberty. To take away his freedom to come and go as he pleased equaled a death knell to him.

Ada still MIA?

For a couple more months, she said. Of all the luck, his housekeeper had left to be with her son and his wife for the daughter-in-law’s problem pregnancy. She’d filled in now and then for him with his cousins.

It had gone downhill at the ranch fast after she left.

I miss that ol’ gal. Flossie sighed.

Why, so you could gossip about me?

And whatever them boys get into.

His chuckle came out raw and choked. There were too many times to count that he’d bail one or the other out of something. It was proving to be a job in itself.

Hence the need for help. But not just any help.

Looking out the large glass window of the fifties-style diner, noticing the noontime traffic on Main Street, he wondered again where that woman was who answered his ad. The lady had some nerve keeping him waiting.

What will I do if she never shows up?

A spark of panic ignited in his chest. Over the phone, she sounded eager. And sexy. He recalled the slightly breathy voice tickling his ear.

A frightening thought formed. Floss, you’re not playing a joke on me, are you?

She snorted as she laughed. That would have been a good one. I should have thought of it.

No one else had beaten a path to his door to take on his awkward teenage wards. Maybe the woman heard the stories and ducked out on him.

If he had any sense at all, he’d grab his Stetson off the seat beside him and march right out of here. He had a bustling ranch to run, instead of wasting precious time.

As if on cue, his troublesome, persistent problem reared its ugly head once again, reminding him to stay put and pray this woman showed.

Mind if I wet my whistle? Before he could answer, she took a sip of his coffee. Grimacing, she shook her head. Lordy, but that is nasty stuff. Grabbing the container nearby, she poured in a heap of sugar, stirred it with his spoon and then tasted it again, taking a longer swallow. She shoved it back at him. Sweeter is better.

Next time, I’ll do it just for you. He winked at her.

Smiling, she patted her hair again. You do have a way with the ladies. Hah, except this one, it seems. She chuckled.

Gritting his teeth, Jake figured he’d been close to getting back to riding bulls, too. Since his father died he’d been tied to the ranch for so long that come spring each year, he’d be itching for the rodeo circuit, his chance to break away. Now, just when freedom was near, he’d been saddled with his cousins.

Closing his eyes briefly, Jake savored the memory of roaming the open plains in his beat-up old pickup truck. The gently rolling motions lulling him into a dream-like state, the breeze on his face, the heavy scent of wildflowers filling his senses, and the white billowy clouds overhead.

Touching a little piece of heaven.

Now he lived on hope, feeding his wanderlust soul with flashes of tantalizing visions.

Edginess became a permanent companion since his imprisonment with his cousins began. Putting his life on hold was necessary, but didn’t serve him well. He ached for some action, some activity.

First, he’d hire someone to wave a magic wand over his cousins and mend their broken spirits, and then Jake would snatch his golden opportunity.

Freedom!

Flossie jerked him back to reality when she began to speak again. He focused on her now.

The last I heard, you had the shed roof patched where the mad scientist blew a hole in it. That was after Curly Cue let the bull out of the pen and nearly got both you and him killed. How ’bout the little one, he done anything lately?

Jake cursed inwardly. Don’t remind me. Riding bulls is a heck of a lot easier than keeping an eye on those three. With his meager resources stretched to the limit, Jake knew defeat when he saw it. They needed more than he could ever offer them.

You fixing to dump them on this fairy godmother you’re looking for so you can travel the rodeo circuit? You gotta hurry. Word is you lost three sponsors after that nasty throw from that bull last year. Any more of them pull out and you’ll be cutting it to the bone for expenses. You know, you ain’t got many good years left in that tired body of yours to win the championship, sugar.

His nerves jumped as if her words tugged them.

Leave it to Flossie to cut to the chase.

This is it for me. My last year. I don’t have anything left in me after this. He moved slightly, wincing at the constant, nagging pain in his back and shoulder. This time next year, I’ll be training future bull riders. Got it all lined up. It didn’t have the same appeal as riding did, but, at least he’d be back on the road.

If you ask me, you ain’t gonna bring the oldest one up to speed in time for you to leave town. Spring round-up is just around the corner. Stan just ain’t the man for taking over the whole shebang.

Denial burned through his blood. Did I ask? He blew out a puff of air. Ah hell, Flossie, he’ll be eighteen in a couple of months. He can run the ranch and raise the two younger boys until they’re both of age in four years.

She snorted, looking doubtful. I guess next you’ll be telling me the local girls are gonna line up to marry him, too.

A sliver of alarm inched down his spine. She’d come mighty close to his plan for the fairy godmother to work wonders on Stan enough to get him settled down.

She must have seen something in his expression; she broke into hearty chuckle. And pigs fly, she said once she’d gotten herself under control. Jake, honey, face it, you’re the only one the ladies been parading in and out of that house to court.

Dread settled in his gut like a rock. Jake admitted to himself Stan needed help, needed a life that encompassed more than computers, modems, and his nerdy ways. Marvin and Lance weren’t any better. Marvin, the mad scientist, as Flossie called him, experimented with everything, trying to invent some contraption or other. And Lance loved to cook. Hardly cowboy material, he discovered rather quickly.

And Flossie nailed it on the head when she claimed the steady stream of women prancing out to his ranch were only after him. They’d made it known marrying him would be the only reason they’d take on raising his cousins.

Jake loved all kinds of women: short ones, tall ones, slim ones, curvy ones. He loved everything about them: the way they looked, the way they smelled so nice, the way they felt all soft and warm, the way they tasted… He stopped short, reminding himself he’d been without a lady for too long and he didn’t want to make the ache any worse than it had become.

But one thing remained perfectly clear to him and all the women he’d been involved with: He never wanted anything more than companionship and a whole lot of loving. Marriage just wasn’t for him. He could never tie himself down for a lifetime. His freedom meant too much to him for that.

Flossie leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, Come on, you can tell ol’ Flossie, what else has been happening up there on the ranch? It’s got to be pretty exciting with three male teenagers in the house. And, of course, all them eligible, and not so eligible, ladies throwing themselves at you.

His long, hard stare drilled holes into her. Her eager anticipation rolled across the table in waves. He didn’t dare tell her any more than he already had. She’d likely broadcast the disasters to all her regular customers. Something, he suspected, she’d done before with relish.

Slowly, as the dawning entered her eyes, her smile faded. A scowl replaced her once jovial expression. Jake Lassiter, you’re no fun anymore. I’ve got a mind to apply for that job you’ve got posted in every newspaper in Montana just so I can have firsthand knowledge of what’s going on at the Lazy L. She stood abruptly, her back ramrod straight. Your daddy never minded telling me anything.

You’re outta luck, Flossie. Jake smiled slyly. "He’s been gone a couple of years now. There isn’t any more pillow talk coming from the Lazy L for you, sugar."

Don’t I know it. I sure do miss Duke, in more ways than one. She waltzed away in a huff, attending to the customers at the counter.

Jake’s restlessness returned in full force.

I should have weighed the cons of transplanting my New York City cousins to Montana more.

But he’d never be able to live with himself if he’d let the social workers cart them away.

Every fiber in his being chafed at the notion. Every argument from the experts had fallen on deaf ears. Only a heartless monster would subject the boys to a life in foster homes, separated from one another. Jake hardly knew them, but he’d be damned if he cast them off like some dirty dishwater. He’d been a throw-away baby himself, abandoned on Duke’s doorstep.

Unlovable. Worthless.

A nagging thought probed the edges of his mind: He might have saved his kin from the system, but didn’t he want to be well rid of the daily care taking duties?

Ah hell! he muttered as the truth struck him square between the eyes, hitting a raw nerve.

Jake clasped his stubbled chin in his cupped hands as he leaned his elbows on the table. With his right thumb, he rubbed the sharp bristles covering his jaw as he mulled over his problem.

He wanted out. Traveling the circuit tugged at him more than running his adopted family’s ranch. He didn’t deserve it, nor want it, for that matter. Feeling an obligation to his adopted father, Jake reluctantly inherited the ranch and all the enormous responsibilities that went with it.

The brilliant idea to transform the guys from nerdy city slickers to hunky cowboys, giving them a new lease on life, and then handing over the ranch to them, seemed like the only answer. All he needed was the fairy godmother with a very potent wand.

He sighed heavily, trying to diffuse the burning sensation eating at his gut. Guilt, he supposed, or anxiety. The rest of his life depended on the outcome of today’s meeting. His cousins’ happiness rested in this woman’s hands.

Impressions of the surrounding diners, many of them people he’d known all his life, filtered in now. Jake sipped the now tepid, sweetened black coffee. Snippets of conversation floated to him. A hot debate on politics rose above the other voices jockeying to be heard.

His glance caught the curtain of blonde hair. Shoulder length, silky hair, his mind added. His heart skipped a beat, and then picked up speed. As she twisted back around on the seat at the counter, Jake sucked in a breath. Beauty, pure and natural, hit him.

The word Angel echoed in his head. He could see the light green of her eyes from here. Absently, he rejected the notion she wore contacts. His perusal took in the fringe of bangs framing her eyes and the delicate heart-shaped face with high cheekbones. Her pink lips drew his attention. She darted out her tongue and licked her full bottom lip, jolting his system into overdrive.

An impish grin appeared. A tiny dimple formed at the corner of her mouth. Desire, poker-hot and consuming, curled in his belly. He berated himself, knowing this reaction to a total stranger proved his earlier views on sorely missing a bed partner.

Studying her intently, he noted her speaking to Flossie. No telling what his friend would reveal to her…

Chapter 2

E xcuse me, Miss Flossie. Callie Jean Andrews read the name tag on the pink uniform. She leaned close to the smiling waitress, the counter digging painfully into her forearms.

Need something, sugar? Flossie pulled out an order pad and pencil, tapping the pointy end on the paper.

Allowing a ghost of a smile to whisper across her lips, Callie shook her head. Her hair whipped her face and she tucked it behind her ear. Not food. Ah…did I hear right a moment ago? Did you call that guy over there Jake?

Callie tilted her head