Jocelyn: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Sewing in SoCal Book 2)

by Sarah Monzon

  Malachi looked at me like I imagined Molly would look at her preschool students when they asked a ridiculous question—the aren’t you cute? and I’m trying not to laugh while answering you seriously look. “No, there isn’t a horse rehab, but like any addiction, once a horse starts cribbing, they usually don’t stop. Windsucking can lead to colic, which can be serious, but the gulping of oxygen she does isn’t going to make her OD.”

  My lips pushed up. “Is this one of the most ridiculous conversations you’ve ever had with a guest?”

  He rubbed at his jaw. “I’m not sure I’d say that. But I would have to say, out of everyone, you have surprised me the most.”

  10

  Malachi

  “No.”

  My pulse throbbed in my throat. I’d relived that moment this morning with Jocelyn a million times over in my head, and with every repetition, mortification cinched my ribs near to bursting. I’d winked—winked!—and called her darlin’. “I’m not asking you, Nate. I’m telling you.”

  My little brother’s infernal lips curved in an arrogant smirk. One that should have landed him a record deal and caused all the ladies to swoon at his feet but which just made me want to wipe it off his smug little face.

  “And I’m telling you no.”

  “What is going on out here?” Gran stormed out of the back door, hands on her hips and thunder in her eyes. “Because I’m sure-as-shootin’ certain it isn’t two grown men bickering like hens in a chicken coop.”

  I lowered my chin so she couldn’t see the frustration in my eyes. Gran didn’t deserve my annoyance. That was all directed at my dumb brother. “No, ma’am.”

  “Mal’s shirking his duties, Gran.” Nate tattled like we were kids again—amusing himself by getting me in trouble.

  Gran had liked to quote Vidal Sassoon to us growing up: The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary. And if she’d needed to punctuate that quote with a swat on the backside for motivation, she’d done that too.

  Gran shifted her regard to me. “That doesn’t sound like Malachi.”

  An entire lifetime of sweat, sore muscles, and calloused hands proved I wasn’t afraid to do what needed to get done.

  “He’s trying to foist all the responsibility of dealing with the corporate group on me.” Nate rolled onto the balls of his feet. “There’s a certain young lady who I think he’s trying to avoid.”

  Gran’s hands fell from her hips. “Now that sounds like Malachi.”

  My head snapped up. “Hey now. That’s not it—”

  She gave me her who do you think you’re trying to pull one over on? look.

  “—entirely.”

  “Mmmhhhmmm.” Her eyes fell from me and narrowed on Nate. “Stop teasing your brother. You two are peas from different pods. What comes naturally to you, doesn’t so much for him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nate managed to appear somewhat apologetic.

  “And you…” Gran’s age-spotted hands found her hips again as her eyes pointed at me. “Things worth having are worth working hard for, and I know you aren’t going to tell me a good woman isn’t worth having, are you?”

  And get my ears boxed? “No, ma’am.” The penciled-in slashes above her eyes rose like sunflowers at noon. “I mean, yes, ma’am, a good woman is certainly worth some hard work. No, ma’am, I’d never tell you otherwise.”

  “All right then.” Her head bobbed. “Now that’s settled, I think our guests are about finished with their meeting in the dining room.” She opened the back door and waited, her message to get back to work clear.

  Nate walked past Gran, but I stopped beside her and planted a kiss on the loose skin around her cheekbone.

  She laid a hand on my arm. “Most women don’t need flowery words, Malachi. All we’re looking for is a steady heart.” She tapped my chest. “And you’ve got the best there is.”

  Which girls couldn’t see if I couldn’t talk to them. “Thanks, Gran.”

  I nearly ran into Nate’s back at the entrance to the dining room.

  “Their meeting not finished?” I peeked over his shoulder, and he moved to the side.

  Tension suffocated the room. The familiar faces I’d seen laughing at each other as well as themselves over the last three days were gone. In their places, statues. Stony expressions that only moved in order to throw visual daggers with their glares.

  “What kind of business meeting could have results like that?” Nate whispered.

  Wait. Where was Jocelyn?

  Nate leaned a shoulder against the wall as if the hostility in the room didn’t puncture his good mood. “It’s really none of our business, but anyone want to tell us what happened, or y’all require the frustration release of slinging bales of hay today?”

  Miss Tonya sniffed. “Some people can’t take a little criticism.”

  Coming from her, a little would be enough to drown a person.

  “I thought it would be a good idea.” Jayden, who’d I’d been surprised to learn was head honcho of the bunch, stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular.

  Was the guy in shock? Over a silly business meeting?

  “I thought, since the peer reviews wouldn’t be anonymous, everyone would only say nice things. Encourage each other. Help to bring us all closer together. I didn’t think…”

  “It’s not your fault.” Bill, the oldest of the group, spoke while shooting an accusatory frown Henry’s way.

  Little mousy Henry? The one who’d shared the statistics and probability of a person dying because of a farm animal?

  He shrank lower into his seat. “I only gave voice to what you all thought as well.”

  Donald turned from his place by the window. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  Henry blinked in rapid succession. “Affirmative action—”

  “Shut up, Henry,” Sam spat.

  The muscles in my neck corded. “Where’s Jocelyn?”

  Sam turned to me, looking uneasy. “She said she needed some air.”

  On over three hundred acres of land, air could be found anywhere. Unfortunately, so could trouble.

  “I’ve got them,” Nate assured, then lifted his chin toward the door.

  My insides tugged in two different directions. Part of me wanted to send Nate to find her. He could make her laugh and forget the hurtful words she’d been made to bear. The other part of me needed to see for myself that she was all right.

  I nodded to Nate and stalked out of the house. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I whistled for Scout. He’d been pinned to Jocelyn’s side since she’d stepped foot on the ranch. If he wasn’t already with her, he’d be able to find her for me.

  A white, tan, grey, and black blur raced from the stables, tongue lolling at the side of his mouth. I lowered myself to one knee and cupped the Aussie’s head in my hands, scratching his favorite spots with my fingers. “Where is she, boy?”

  His ears perked.

  “Is she with the horses?”

  Pulling his head from my hands, he raced back to the barn where we stabled the mounts.

  I followed more slowly, trying to think of something to say. I’m sorry sounded trite, and really, the apology should come from Henry…if he could talk past the fat lip I wanted to give him.

  Maybe a joke would distract her from the pain she must be feeling.

  What sickness did the cowboy get from riding a wild horse? Bronc-itis.

  I groaned. I wanted to make her feel better, not worse.

  Jocelyn’s soft voice drifted down the barn’s central aisle and tripped my feet. Domino had his head over the stall door, his jaw resting on Jocelyn’s shoulder as she ran her fingers across his long neck.

  “Do you know what it’s like, boy? To have people think the only reason you got a job was to fill some sort of diversity quota? Forget about qualifications. Hard work. Dedication. You know, actually being good at the job and deserving it. Earning the position on merit.” Her voice broke. “It would be like the oth
er horses claiming the only reason Malachi wanted you was because you have a white diamond mark and none of the other horses have them and the ranch has to have at least one horse with a diamond. He didn’t pick you because you’re strong or experienced or gentle. Only because of the white marking between your eyes.”

  I shifted into the shadows. She’d already found the best listeners on the ranch.

  Jocelyn pulled away. Looked Domino in the eye. Rested her forehead in the width of his. “Don’t listen to those other horses, boy. They’re only upset because they thought their cousin should get this stall.” She scratched under his chin, shoulders rising and falling in deep breaths as she breathed in his scent.

  Did she feel it? The slow unwinding of strain, muscles loosening with each heartbeat shared with a horse? A grounding. Settling. Opening to peace and the fresh reminder of rightness in the world.

  “It’s safe to come out now,” Jocelyn called as she lifted her head.

  I stepped to the side, the warmth from the sun’s rays shining past the open barn doors immediately heating the back of my legs, matching the familiar rising temperature wrapping around my ears. How many times would I embarrass myself in front of this woman?

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She turned to face me, Domino’s head pressed against the length of her middle, Scout curled up at her feet. She looked like a queen among her devoted subjects. “Heard about our little corporate pow-wow, did you?”

  “What he said—”

  She held up a hand, palm out. “Isn’t anything I haven’t heard before.” And by the set of her jaw and the line of her shoulders, something she wouldn’t let define her.

  I walked to the other side of Domino and stroked his cheek. Animals were useful to have around for more than just work. They provided an excuse to keep my hands occupied when I didn’t know what to do with them. “Our in-house therapist do his job?”

  Her mouth relaxed into a gentle smile as she peered into the animal’s round eyes. “Would I sound crazy if I said being with him stirs something deep down inside me? Like he can reach out and awaken my soul. The warmth of his body and his musty scent transcend the problems crowding me and unlock a well of harmony in a world of chaos.”

  Words to my own unspoken feelings.

  I reached up and pressed my fingers to the dents in the crown of my cowboy hat, lifting it from my head and placing it atop hers. Too big, but the width of the brim fit over the knot she’d tied in the bandana wrapped around her head.

  My breath hitched.

  My dog, my horse, my hat. If I didn’t know she lived in the big city with a fancy job, I’d swear she belonged right here where she stood.

  Moistening the inside of my mouth, I made the joints in my knees unlock. “There,” I said as I gave the roll of the hat a little tug. “If you’re going to sound like a cowgirl poet, you’ve got to look like one.”

  Her smile arched. “Oh yeah?” She yanked the hat lower onto her head and hooked her thumbs into the loops along the waistband of her jeans. Her knees bent and she walked with an imitation of Nate’s swagger that pulled laughter from my chest. “Am I a cowgirl now?”

  Scout barked, jumping around like he wanted to be a part of whatever was going on too.

  I raised my voice to be heard over the dog’s happy yaps. “According to Miriam, to cowgirl up means to never let up, ease up, shut up, or give up. What do you say to that?”

  “I say yee-haw.” She pivoted in a circle, twirling an invisible lariat over her head.

  That’s my girl.

  The thought had me slipping my hands in my pockets. Forcing my feet to take a step back.

  No matter how much she seemed to fit, I had to remember that she didn’t belong here. In less than a week she’d be leaving the Double B to return to the city.

  I couldn’t let Jocelyn Dormus lasso my heart and take it with her.

  11

  Jocelyn

  Stepping on a rusty nail.

  Getting kicked by a cow.

  Being trampled by a stampede.

  Being zapped by an electric fence.

  All dangers I’d considered before driving up from the city. One thing I hadn’t calculated?

  An identity crisis.

  And, um, hello? About eight years too late on that one. I wasn’t at the Double B on some sort of Australian walkabout trying to find myself. I’d already decided on who I’d be in the guidance counselor’s office when we’d gone over annual income projections before I decided on a major.

  Didn’t matter if asset allocation and Barclays’ seven-year municipal bond index made my eyes cross. The world of finance put a roof over my head and food on the table. Sent my brother to school. Broke me free from the bondage of Hyde Park.

  What did the Double B give me?

  Only enough space to fill my lungs to capacity and a soul-deep peace I’d never experienced before.

  The thought of returning to the conveyor belt of bodies moving along at a clipped speed in the city, blinders on to anything but more—more money, more prestige, more things—and not slowing even for a second to look beyond and feel…

  Breath sucked from my lungs like a vacuum.

  Where were my girls when I needed them?

  I picked up my phone and paused at my contact list. Who would be the most sympathetic? Definitely not Betsy, who’d tell me to suck it up, buttercup. Nicole might get sidetracked by the fact I was at a farm that raised animals for consumption and launch into a lecture about sustainability and our place on the planet. Amanda—I pinched the bridge of my nose—she’d probably pepper me with questions about cute cowboys.

  The image of a certain strong and silent ranch owner popped into my head, and I fanned the mirage away like heat waves over a sizzling blacktop.

  That left Molly. Should have started with her. Her natural motherly instincts would surely kick in and give me some much-needed stable advice.

  I pulled her contact info up and pressed the phone icon.

  “Hey, girl. How’s the retreat going?” she asked after answering on the second ring.

  “I need to get out of here.” The idea of escape hadn’t even registered until this moment, but as soon as I heard the words, the wisdom of them rang true. Malachi had promised a whole new world, but I hadn’t realized how dangerous that proposition would be. Being introduced to a new world had only made me see how unfulfilling my old one was.

  But there was still time. I hadn’t passed the point of no return yet. If I could leave the Double B and return to the city, then my experience here would only be like a dream. I could bury myself back under financial projections and pretend like nothing had changed.

  Like I hadn’t changed.

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  My eyes stung. Was I seriously about to cry? Over a stupid stretch of land, some silly animals, and a ready-for-tv family? I hadn’t cried when our apartment got burgled on Christmas Eve and our handful of presents were stolen. Nor when Mama got laid off and we had to wait in line at the WIC office for hours, not sure if her paperwork would be approved or if we’d have to go to the church on the corner to beg for a few items from their community pantry.

  Scout ambled over and curled up beside me, resting his chin in my lap. My hand found the crown of his head, silky soft hair tickling my palm. A sense of loss, the weight of which I’d guess to be the same as the canine cuddling with me, pressed against the center of my chest, and a sob nearly broke past the barricade of my lips.

  Had something happened? Only unconditional love, although I’d never have predicted the feeling to stem from a four-legged creature. This place had aroused a new life in me. But the problem with realizing you’d been, in essence, existing in a coma was that you couldn’t go back to the place of blissful ignorance.

  But the Double B wasn’t reality either. At least, not my reality.

  “Jocelyn?” Molly sounded concerned, and I realized I’d never answ
ered her question.

  “I’m fine. Ignore my prison break plea.”

  A second passed. Two. “Has it really been that bad?”

  My fingers threaded through Scout’s fur. “No, it’s been wonderful actually.”

  “Then why say you need to leave?”

  Because I was afraid if I didn’t, then I’d never want to. “Just miss my girls, I guess.”

  A trail of dust billowed behind two cars coming up the long drive. Scout lifted his head to watch the small caravan, ears perked. The vehicles pulled to a stop, then a small blonde popped out of the passenger side of a used-to-be-white sedan. “Then it’s a good thing we showed up.”

  Scout and I scrambled to our feet, and I slipped my phone back in my pocket. Car doors opened and shut, and one by one my friends emerged. Betsy scowled. Amanda surveyed everything in wide-eyed wonder. Nicole laid a protective hand on her eight-year-old daughter Sierra’s shoulder. Even Molly’s boyfriend Ben was here, as was Drew, his best friend from work whom I’d only met once.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked as Molly squeezed me in a quick hug.

  “Something about ‘the SoCal sewing girls have never missed a weekly get together and they aren’t about to start now.’” Ben draped his arm across Molly’s shoulders and looked down at her adoringly.

  Drew stepped forward. “Can we talk about the name though? Sewing girls is so not inclusive, and I’d think that some of you, anyway”—he slanted a mischievous look toward Nicole—“would have something to say about gender roles and societal expectations.”

  Nicole’s lips pinched.

  Ben waved a hand. “Ignore him. We only tagged along for the day and have to head back this evening for our shifts in the morning.”

  Scout pressed against the front of my legs then folded himself down on the tops of my feet. “But you girls are staying?”

  “For two nights,” Molly explained. “They have the most adorable Conestoga wagon we’re camping in. I plan on using the experience to write a few lesson plans about western expansion and the Oregon trail.”