When Jesse had asked Amaryllis how she’d managed the drive in spite of the weather, she’d informed him she’d had lots of experience driving in all kinds of storms. After all, her work as a vet extended to farm animals. She’d navigated worse roads to assist in a delivery. Being punctual was important, she’d added, tapping her wristwatch. She had committed to being here at a certain time and she kept her commitments.
No spinning out in a sports car on a washed-out road for her, apparently.
Amaryllis sounded...too perfect.
Even from here, Amaryllis sat too straight. Like a rod shot through her back. Neatly trimmed nails painted a pale pink fiddled with her hair. The first bachelorette glanced down at her watch, then looked impatiently at the kitchen threshold.
Amaryllis broke any stereotypes Esme’d had about vets dressing in baggy scrubs even on their off days. A fitted lavender button-up shirt outlined her curves. Without so much as looking at Esme, the woman scrolled through her phone, pausing to type every so often. She delicately crossed her legs, clad in a pattern of thin black-and-gray pinstripes, as she ignored Esme’s presence.
Esme skillfully scraped the chopped vegetables into a large pottery bowl before turning her attention to the grilled chicken breasts waiting to be sliced. “So what made you sign up for a matchmaker? If you don’t mind my asking.” The words came out of her mouth before her filter could catch them. Slicing the chicken breast into even strips, she waved her free hand. “Wait. Forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.”
Since walking into this house, she’d lost all damn control of herself. Frustration grew in her chest, and she continued the rhythmic slicing, attempting an air of casual sophistication and disinterest that Esme knew lingered somewhere inside her.
“I’m not ashamed at all. Ask away.” Amaryllis pulled out a gold compact from her leather bag. Looking at herself in her reflection, the brunette fluffed her hair and then turned her attention to Esme. Unruffled and precise. “I’m a large-animal veterinarian, which means I spent almost every waking hour of my twenties studying. And now’s not much better. I’m a workaholic who loves her job. There’s not much chance for me to meet people who aren’t affiliated with my practice.”
Esme nodded, dumping the chicken into the bowl. Shifting her weight from left to right foot, she shrugged her shoulders, tension growing the longer the woman stayed.
“I would think that would actually give you plenty of opportunities to meet people who share interests with you. You didn’t have to drive all the way out here to meet a rancher.”
Was she trying to make Amaryllis leave?
Jesse wouldn’t appreciate having his plans upset. And it wasn’t that she actually had a problem with matchmakers. Plenty of her friends used dating websites, quite successfully. She’d even dipped her toes into those waters a couple of times.
She knew her questions were pushy and not even necessary, but she couldn’t make herself stop.
Brows raising, Amaryllis pinned Esme with a matter-of-fact stare that threatened to shut down the conversation. “In my small town, the options are limited. This is the most efficient use of my time.”
Amaryllis was too...practical for Jesse. Even though he proclaimed he was going this route for logical reasons, she could tell by his messy desk, it was all an act. He had a freer spirit than he wanted to admit.
“And you don’t care that he has two other women coming?” The question sucked the air from the kitchen.
Amaryllis blinked fast, her lips going tight. Apparently, it did matter to her. And Esme felt bad for bringing it up. This really wasn’t her business. But something like satisfaction clung to her regret for sharing Jesse’s plans.
Which only made her feel worse. Confused her, too.
How did this happen? Esme felt the weight of why she was actually at Jesse Stevens’s house crash on her shoulders. Her father’s future as the president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Not to scare away Jesse’s suitors.
“I’m sorry,” Esme said quickly, shoving aside the bowl and racing to the other side of the island. “That wasn’t my place. Talk to Jesse. He’ll be back in a moment. I’ll just get out of your way.”
“I should be leaving.” The lady vet moved faster toward the door, tugging her rain jacket on with each step.
Oh, hell. What had she done? She’d ruined everything. This wasn’t going to help her father at all. She should have reined in her jealousy, damn it.
“He’s a great guy.” Esme fast-walked after her, her socked feet slippery against the tiled floor. “I can give you pointers on him, make up for the fact that I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Amaryllis turned quickly, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “So you’re going to apologize for meddling by meddling some more?” With a bark of bitter laughter, she shook her head, securing her purse strap over her shoulder. Anger and embarrassment flared in the woman’s brown irises. Looking her up and down with an X-ray stare, the woman pressed her lips together. “Wow, you’re a piece of work.”
Before Esme could think of a suitable response, the door was slamming. Esme tried to formulate a recovery plan. It was her forte, after all. But then she heard the sound of a car engine starting, tires crunching.
Any hope for salvaging the damage she’d caused extinguished as the engine sound faded.
Guilt pinched. Hard. She sagged back against the counter. She’d had no right to be jealous. But the feeling was still there all the same.
Why?
Did she have feelings for Jesse she was unwilling to explore? Yes, she was undeniably attracted to him. And they did have a lot in common, like having been brought up on a ranch. A strong work ethic. Humor.
But she certainly wasn’t putting herself on the list of marriage candidates. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to have children. Jesse hadn’t hidden his plans for the future. In spite of her upbringing, she was a city girl, an executive who loved five-hundred-dollar shoes, in spite of the muck boots she’d worn earlier today.
That seemed like a lifetime ago.
The door opened again and Esme straightened. Had Amaryllis come back? No, the footfalls were too distinctly masculine.
Jesse stepped into the kitchen, sweeping off his Stetson. “Where’s Amaryllis?”
Esme cleared her throat, knowing this could hurt her father’s bid for a favor from Jesse, but unable to offer anything but the truth and a vow to herself that she would do better with the next two candidates. “I have a confession to make.”
Six
A confession? Frowning, Jesse tossed his Stetson onto the kitchen island, keeping his eyes firmly on Esme’s face and off the sight of her in jeggings and a long white button-down shirt.
Hey, wait, was that his?
He cleared his throat. “It’s okay that you took my shirt.”
She blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. “Your shirt.” She looked down and tugged the hem. “It was in the laundry. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No need to confess about riffling through my clothes. And with luck, your suitcase will be here tonight...or tomorrow.” Would she be spending another night?
Not that it should matter. Not with his potential mates coming. Still, he selfishly craved more time.
Esme pursed her lips, her hand moving to the tall glass filled with ice and water. As she swirled the ice against the glass, he watched her grow more tense, her shoulders rising, her jaw clenching.
Her hand shook as she gripped her glass. “That’s not my confession. You asked about Amaryllis. She’s gone. As in left the property.”
Tilting her head, she gestured to the now-empty driveway.
Running a hand through his hair, he tried to make sense of what she was telling him. Had he offended the lady vet somehow? “Where’s she going? The Cozy Inn and the Cimarron Rose bed-and-breakfast are probably full with Christ
mas travelers.”
Esme opened her mouth as if to speak, then clamped it shut. He took a step toward her, looking for some clarity.
“She’s gone-gone. As in left town, not coming back.” Esme crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “She wasn’t right for you.”
He frowned, surprised and confused. “When I went outside, she seemed quite eager to get to know each other better over dinner. What made her change her mind?” When she didn’t answer right away, suspicion nipped at him. “Or should I ask who changed her mind? Esme?”
“That’s my confession.” She inhaled deeply, then blurted, “I let it slip that two other women are coming.”
Even from here, he could see the whites of her fingertips as she gripped her water glass.
He rocked back on his boot heels. “That shouldn’t have been a surprise to her, though. We both went through a matchmaker. Nothing’s exclusive until we decide to date.”
She couldn’t help but think again how her mother had married her father because it was a practical match that pleased her family. Maybe that had something to do with why she and her siblings had stayed single for so long.
“How very...progressive of you.” She nudged the salt grinder closer to the pepper mill.
“I take that to mean you’re a romantic, all about the hearts and flowers and being swept off your feet.”
“There’s no need to make fun of me. I’m very sorry I chased off your new girlfriend. Oops. Not girlfriend. Your potential wife.” She winced, resting her hand on his arm. “Wait, scratch that. I’m trying to apologize, not dig myself in deeper.”
That small touch sent sensations zinging through him. Her eyes widened with that same awareness he felt, the undeniable attraction.
Then realization dawned. Esme was jealous of the women being sent by the matchmaker, had likely even chased Amaryllis off. That gave him more of a kick than it should, especially when she’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for the same things as him in a relationship. Hadn’t she?
“So if you don’t want me seeing Amaryllis,” he mused, heat flaring over his skin at her nearness, “does that mean you want to take that kiss further?”
Her lips worked silently for a moment, color rising in her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell faster, the curves of her breasts enticing. His hands itched to explore.
“You’re egotistical.” She stepped back. Away from him? Or away from temptation?
He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.
“And you like me.” The realization was satisfying as hell.
“You’re infuriating. And more importantly, you have two more women due here, when?” she asked with a challenge in her voice. She pointed to the window, at the cloudless sky.
“Tomorrow, most likely. The weather app on my phone showed that roads are starting to clear.” Esme would be able to leave. “They were supposed to come today, but they texted while I was finishing up in the barn to say they’re waiting, just to be safe.”
Her jaw dropped. “You scheduled all three women today? At once?”
“I told you Amaryllis already knew about the others. She’s a practical, down-to-earth woman.”
He needed practical. Stable.
Esme’s eyes fluttered closed, then opened again, sparking.
“Knowing about the other women is different than not caring. She had her hopes up, Jesse. You can mock romanticism all you want. It means something to some people, though. It clearly meant something to that woman who ran like hell from the prospect of being a party of some lineup of women for you to pick from.”
“What if I were a part of a lineup of men for her?”
“I would find that sad, too,” she said without hesitation.
“It doesn’t seem like you approve of matchmakers.”
She shook her head, her silken hair gliding over her shoulders. “You misunderstand. I have no problem with a matchmaker. I just think the way you’re going about it is...”
“Is what?” he asked, more curious than he should be about how this woman’s mind worked. “Spit it out.”
“Fine.” She braced her shoulders, her chin jutting. “I think it’s a recipe for disaster. For heartache. Whatever you want to call it—romantic or practical—it just doesn’t seem like something that will work long-term. Not that my opinion matters at all. It’s your life.”
Her criticism stung. He wanted a family of his own and put a lot of thought into how to approach this. And she just shot it all down in an instant as she stood in judgment of him. “You sure are being confrontational for a person who wants to persuade me your dad should lead that new chapter.”
“I’m emotional. I can’t make a spreadsheet of my feelings like you do.” She grabbed her empty glass and stalked to the sink. “But no worries from here on out. I’ll be sure the next two candidates hear only glowing things about you from me.”
She stormed across the kitchen and toward the main part of the house without another word, anger crackling off her. His eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips as she walked away. Even after she was gone, her fragrance lingered.
As did his thoughts of what would have happened if Esme had been on that list.
* * *
Even two hours later, Esme couldn’t believe what she’d said to Jesse. She was normally a calm professional. She was a middle-child peacemaker.
Not today, though.
She’d been hiding out here in her room since their argument, sitting in the middle of the bed and trying to make out a Christmas shopping list. A totally fruitless endeavor since her mind kept wandering back to their fight in the kitchen and how she’d wanted him to...
To what? She hugged the fat pillow, the high-thread-count cotton sensual against her skin.
Sighing, she had to admit the truth. She’d wanted Jesse to agree with her, then sweep her into his arms and kiss her until her knees melted.
The scent of something cooking, something fragrant and full of spices, teased her nose. She glanced at her clock and saw it was approaching suppertime. Would the time apart have hit the reset button for him as it had for her?
There was only one way to find out.
She tossed aside the pillow and slid off the bed, smoothing the shirt, his shirt that she’d pulled from the laundry. Her footfalls soft against the floor, she drew closer until she found Jesse standing at the dark stainless steel stove, stirring a pot of what looked like...
“Is that beef stew?” she asked, gripping and rubbing her wrist, a go-to gesture from when she had heated arguments with her sisters. A self-soothing gesture to calm herself. Not that Jesse knew that. But muscle memory was a powerful thing, and she needed all the smoothing-over vibes she could get.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “It is. Corn bread’s in the oven.”
“I would have thought you had staff to help you.”
After all, he had a bunkhouse for ranch hands, and he’d mentioned a foreman. But his house was huge and quiet.
He continued stirring, pausing for a moment to smell the deep notes of pepper billowing off the steam. “I do, but they clean and leave. It’s just me so they don’t need to come often. And I cook for myself.”
She stepped closer, dropping her grip on her wrist. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It’s your life. You know what you want. And that’s more than most people in the world.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted.”
“Does that mean I’m invited to supper?”
“I’m not going to starve you.” He tasted the stew and her mouth watered. For him. “My mechanic said he’ll get to your car in the morning for a better diagnostic. Unless you have family or friends you want to come get you now. If the rain gets much heavier, the roads could wash out even worse.”
Leave? So soon? Apparently, he still was angry, and she couldn’t blame him. “Are y
ou asking me to go now? I’m not sure my family could get here safely. But I can still go. There must be lodging somewhere.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Like I said before, I’m sure everything’s booked anyway, given it’s the Christmas season.” His mouth kicked up into a smile. “And you’re chasing women off my property who will need a place to stay since the rain picked up again.”
He leaned to pull the corn bread out of the oven, and she couldn’t help but check out his butt. No female with a pulse would be able to deny how fine it was, denim cupping the perfect curve in a way that made her long to touch.
She squeezed her hands into fists on the kitchen island.
“Woman,” she reminded him. “I’ve only chased off one woman.”
He chuckled softly. “The week is young, Esme.”
“It would help if you weren’t so funny.” Leaning against the cool granite countertop, she shook her head, taking in the subtle pull of his muscles as he stirred the stew.
“And it would help me if you weren’t so sexy smart,” he retorted.
“What does ‘sexy smart’ mean?”
He eyed her with a smoky gaze. “You have a brain that rivals your body. Smart women are sexy.”
Her skin tingled with awareness. “Thank you for noticing...both. I worry because I work for my father that people may think I don’t deserve the job. I try twice as hard to prove myself.”
“Word around the club is that you’re fierce at what you do. Have you ever thought about looking into switching companies?”
She’d thought of leaving—just once. But duty bound her to protect all that her father had built. Had sacrificed for. She couldn’t walk away from the legacy.
“It’s the family business. Plenty of relatives work together.”
“Okay, fair enough.” He leaned back. “So what do you say I dish up dinner and then you can tell me why your father is the best candidate to lead the new chapter of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
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