Surprise rippled through her. “Really? That simple? You’re just asking me?”
“I am. I’ll be looking into Ryder Currin. A few other possibilities, too.”
“So my dad didn’t need to send me here,” she said softly.
“It shows how much he wants it. That means something. I get that he’s excited about the new chapter. We all are.” He passed her a bowl. “Now let’s eat.”
Companionably, they dished up their dinner, her mind scrolling through what she wanted to say.
Because yes, this club meant a lot to every one of them and she didn’t want to say anything to mar the opening.
She could already envision the parties they would have there. The site had been chosen with care, a historic former luxury boutique hotel that fell into disrepair, now almost finished being renovated by Perry Construction. A gorgeous three-story building on a corner downtown. There were suites on the top floor for the president and chairman of the board. The second floor was for board members’ and officers’ offices and conference rooms. And the first floor contained the ballroom, a bar-style café club for members only, and the main meeting hall.
Stepping into Jesse’s dining room, she stopped short at the sight of wineglasses and flickering candles. For a stew dinner?
It was incongruous and charming all at once. A smile lit her from the inside out.
More than just charming, actually. It was dreamy. This man had a romantic side, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
And she needed to remind herself that some other woman would be the recipient of that long-term. Possibly sooner rather than later, depending on what he thought of those next two candidates.
Resolved, she took her seat at the table to start her pitch on why her father was the person to lead the Houston chapter of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
The very last thing she wanted to be discussing with Jesse Stevens.
* * *
The next morning, Esme stared at the two newest matchmaking candidates who’d arrived bright and early, within minutes of each other, and were now getting a tour of the barn. The foreman had just pulled Jesse aside to point out some issue with one of the mares.
Esme was surprised Jesse had left her alone with the two new arrivals after how things went with Amaryllis. He welcomed them and introduced her as a business associate in from Houston before he was called away.
Not that he’d gone far. She felt his gaze on her from across the barn. Warning her?
Biting her lip, she forced her attention back to her side of the stables. This go-round, she wouldn’t let so much as a whisper of criticism pass her lips. Far from it, she intended to sing his praises. And to do so, she should learn a little more about them, to get a handle on the best way to help them impress Jesse.
So she flung herself into conversation with the two women in the barn, all the years of training to maneuver through intense situations coming into use now. Not that she could have ever imagined her professional training would prove handy while speaking to matchmaking candidates. But she handled Riley Jean Smith and Michelle Mendoza.
Esme turned her attention back to Riley Jean and remembered the woman mentioning something about having a six-year-old. “Where’s your son?”
Riley Jean fluffed her long, wavy jet-black hair. “Staying with my mama. She loves special time with Lonnie Mac.”
Esme pulled a smile. “That’s what grandmothers are for.”
Riley Jean scrunched her pixie-like face, blue eyes grave and serious. “She wants me to have time for myself. And honestly, even though the matchmaking company checks out the prospective dates carefully, I wanted to spend time with him on my own, to form my own opinion.”
That made sense. Esme cocked her head to the side, as she petted one of the horses whose head poked out from the stall. The sorrel horse stretched beneath her hands, enjoying the attention.
Shaking her head, Riley Jean held up a hand. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not like I think he’s a serial killer or something. I researched him on the internet. You know, just the basics like his social media pages, his professional profile, college records, friends of his... You’re single, too. You understand.”
Riley Jean touched a hand to Esme’s arm in what seemed like a strange act of camaraderie.
Staying on target was going to be a challenge. More than she had thought. With grit and determination, she willed words to her tongue. “Of course you should meet with him first. Sounds like your mother taught you to be a good mama.”
“Thank you. I try.”
Actually, the woman sounded a little stalkerish with all that checking up on him. Reasonable safety was one thing. Doing a deep dive into the internet was something else altogether.
Esme shifted her attention to the other woman. “So, tell me more about yourself.”
Michelle leaned against the stall door—a vision in heeled boots, jeans and a plaid shirt. Dark waves framed her tan face, making her brown eyes all the more striking. “I’m a former runner-up in the Miss Texas pageant, third runner-up.”
“You’re lovely. I’m surprised you didn’t win.”
“Me, too,” she said with no indication that she grasped how egotistical that sounded. “I got thrown from a horse the week before the competition, hurt my hip, which made walking in heels a real bitch.”
Michelle pushed herself off the stall door, offering her palm to the sorrel horse before petting it. From down the barn, the low timbre of Jesse’s voice reverberated, though there was no telling what he was saying.
Esme resisted the urge to shout “fire” and send both women running. But she wasn’t going to repeat her mistake by chasing them off. She owed her father—and Jesse—more than that. She needed to be better. She hated being ruled by jealousy whether it was about Jesse, her sisters or her dad.
If this was what Jesse wanted, then she would do her best to help make it happen.
Checking to make sure Jesse was still occupied with ranch business, Esme leaned closer to Riley Jean and Michelle. “I would like to help you both.”
Michelle’s microbladed eyebrows rose. “Both of us?”
Esme bit back a sigh. “This isn’t The Bachelor where you’re both trying to outdo the other.”
Michelle rocked back and forth in her high-heeled boots with a chuckle. “Speak for yourself.”
“Okay, that.” Esme tapped Michelle on the arm. “He has a good sense of humor. He’ll like that about you.”
Michelle shook her hair back over her shoulders with a perfect toss. “I considered doing a stand-up comedy routine as my talent but opted for a patriotic tap dance instead.”
“Hmm... I’d say go with your first instinct from now on.” Esme bit the inside of her cheek. “Riley Jean? I bet you miss your son.”
“I do.” She touched a heart locket around her neck. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and he’s everything to me since my husband died. Do you want to see Lonnie Mac’s picture?”
Riley Jean opened the locket to reveal a photo of a gap-toothed boy. A kid who would probably love to have Jesse’s attention.
“Cute kid,” Esme said, in spite of herself. “Having a family is very important to Jesse. He really wants kids.”
A reminder she needed to take to heart.
“Whoa, hold on,” Riley Jean protested. “That’s getting ahead of things. I only just showed up.”
Esme felt the crisis boiling and knew she had to do her best to douse it. “I just meant it’s okay to talk about your son. I’ve seen single-mom friends of mine hold back sharing about their kids for fear it’ll chase the guy away. That’s not the case here.”
Riley Jean smiled impishly. “That’s all good to know. Thank you.”
Esme fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves, ready for this to be over but knowing there was still a task in front of her.
“PR is my chosen profession. It’s all about taking the facts and putting the right spin on things.”
Michelle looked her up and down. A moment passed before she opened up her bubble gum–pink lips. “I have one last question.”
Esme nodded. “Sure. Shoot.”
“Why aren’t you going after Jesse when you clearly know—and admire—so much about him?”
Surprise slammed into her. A fair question. She looked down the barn to where he worked with a horse. He was so handsome, even covered in dirt, his muscles apparent as he gripped the horse’s hoof for more treatment for the abscess.
He was earthy, handsome and, yes, “sexy smart.”
As if Jesse sensed her looking at him, he glanced over at her. His green eyes glinted and he smiled. She smiled back. How could she not?
Michelle’s sigh and a creak of leather across the room drew Esme’s attention back. Riley Jean was gathering her purse and Michelle was tugging on her jacket.
Oh, damn.
Esme straightened quickly and double-timed after them, barely catching them at the barn door. “Where are you going? Did I say something wrong?”
Michelle tucked her head to the side with a half smile. “Honey, you didn’t have to say a word. Your body language said it all. You’ve got it bad for that man.”
Riley Jean nodded. “And by the steamy look he just smoked your way, he has it bad for you, too.”
Did he?
She looked over at him quickly, and uh-oh, he was already striding toward her, no doubt because of the rapidly departing women. How had they gotten so far ahead of her already? Panic nipped at her as she called out, “Wait.”
But Michelle and Riley Jean were deep in conversation as they moved toward their vehicles, heads tilted together.
“What’s going on?” Jesse asked as he closed the distance between them.
Esme met him at the open barn door, chilly air from outside blasting through. “I swear I didn’t do a thing to chase them off. In fact, I told them great things about you.”
He turned from the door back to her, steam—the sensual kind—smoking from him in palpable waves. “Like what?”
She couldn’t believe her ears. She gave him her full attention as the women drove off. Her pulse picked up speed. “You’re not angry over them leaving?”
He planted a hand on the doorframe beside her. “Surprisingly, no. Not at all.” He stroked back a strand of her hair, drawing two fingers down the lock. “My focus is exactly where it should be.”
Butterflies churned in her stomach and she realized, truly realized and acknowledged for the first time, that there was something between them that just couldn’t be ignored. Breathless and dry-mouthed, she couldn’t deny that she wanted him.
Before she could have second thoughts that could rob her of exploring those feelings, she said, “That’s really convenient.”
He worked that lock of her hair around his finger, slowly drawing her closer. “How so?”
“Because,” she blurted, the words tumbling out of her mouth faster than she intended, “I was thinking perhaps I could try out to be one of your dates.”
Seven
Jesse stared at Esme in shock.
Surely he couldn’t have heard her correctly. Although the surge of passion shooting through him shouted how much he hoped he had. He wasn’t even disappointed to see the three supposedly perfect candidates bail. His thoughts were too wrapped up in Esme.
“Try out?” he asked, pulling the barn door closed, sealing them back inside, a few stray pieces of hay crunching under his boots. “What exactly do you mean by that? Audition to be my wife?”
“That might be a bit of a quick leap down the aisle. But a test run as your girlfriend—your wife, if you will—could give me the chance to see if I really like it.” She shifted in her boots. Her blond hair fell over her blouse, hinting at her curves.
“You’re certain of what you’re suggesting? After everything you said about the matchmaking process?” His brow raised as he leaned against the stall door. Duke poked his head out of the stall, tilting it sideways. The horse chuffed, knocking his muzzle into Jesse.
A wide grin broke across Esme’s face, lighting her eyes. She reached up to ruffle Duke’s forelock.
“Part of me feels like that’s all I want for Christmas,” she said earnestly, her blue eyes sparkling. “To be honest, the other part of me isn’t sure about anything, particularly life on a ranch and one that’s not even near my relatives.”
He liked that family was important to her. How ironic that until now he hadn’t thought of that being a core part of who she was. So much so that she’d risked her life coming out here in a horrible storm just because her father had asked for her help. He started to churn over the possibility of chucking the matchmaker notion and giving an earnest shot at seeing where the attraction to Esme led.
“And you’re okay with this, even though we barely know each other?”
“Seriously? You’re asking me that?” She snorted on a laugh. “You were willing to consider marrying someone you’d never even met in person.”
“Fair statement.” He cupped her shoulders, then slid his hands down her arms, linking fingers.
“Although now that I think about it, your matchmaker had you fill out a profile. So let’s do that.”
“You want to take a survey now?”
“Not a written one. We can do it verbally.” She leaned closer, the heat of her breath a tempting caress. “Organically.”
“Hmm, sounds intriguing. Do you want to go back to the house or to the office?”
She inclined her head, voice husky. “Your office. It’s closer.”
His heart rate picked up the pace. “After you, ma’am.”
He gestured toward his office, following her inside. The Christmas tree lit the room well enough, so he didn’t turn on the overhead light.
Esme settled onto the leather sofa, leaving space for him. “I’ll start easy. What’s your favorite music?”
“Country, acoustic.” He sat beside her, stretching his arms along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against her. “Simple but rich.”
“Mmm, sexy answer. I can imagine long, slow kisses with guitar music in the background.” Her eyes flamed, lighting an answering fire in him. “I like soft rock, old classics. And there’s common ground there to be found in coffeehouse styles of the tunes.”
“Favorite author?”
Esme tapped her fingers along a stack of magazines on the table beside the couch. “Jane Austen. Favorite movie?”
“True Grit, the original. All Stetsons, all the time.” Watching Westerns was a ritual he’d started with his grandfather long ago. Funny how he hadn’t thought about that until now.
“What’s an absolute no-no in a relationship?”
Her question surprised him, but his answer was easy and earnest. “Lying.”
A pained wince twitched at her face. Lines of worry etched her brow. It made him wonder what had happened in her past to cause them. And made him want to ensure it would never happen again.
She braced her shoulders. “Agreed.”
Good. “If you could live anywhere other than Texas, where would it be?”
“There is nowhere other than Texas.” Tucking her feet beneath her, she preened like a cat.
He threw back his head and laughed, full-out. He liked the way she could draw that from him. “Ah, perfect answer. Your turn.”
Esme pursed her lips. “When was the last time you cried?” Then she shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t really expect you to respond to that. Male machismo being what it is.”
She might say it didn’t matter, but she must have asked for a reason. He’d already gleaned that her father was a controlling type. Certainly, Sterling Perry had a reputation of being all business, all flash. No substan
ce?
Had that question been a Freudian slip? Was Esme looking for more from the people in her life?
Regardless, he had no problem offering her an honest answer. He looked past his desk to a nondescript piece of tack on the wall. “The day my horse Apollo died. I’d had him since I was a kid. I still keep his leather halter hanging there.” He pointed to the wall. “I won’t be putting it on another horse.”
“I’m so sorry for that loss. It sounds like Apollo was an amazing friend to you.”
Apollo had gotten him through every tough time in high school. He’d left it all behind when he rode. “I told you my family wasn’t close. That led me to spend most of my time in the stables. Everyone there brought me up, taught me a good work ethic, taught me about life.”
“You’re truly tugging at my heart here.”
He traced a finger along her cheekbone, just under her eye. “When was the last time you cried?”
“When my shoe broke in the rain.” She angled to nip his finger.
He chuckled, his hand cupping her shoulder and drawing her closer. “Have you considered designer boots? I bet you would rock them.”
She flattened her hands on his chest, her palms warm. “Well, thank you for the lovely compliment, cowboy.”
“I think we’re finding we have more in common here than we expected.” Her scent tempted him, enticed him, sending blood surging south.
“And we didn’t even need the matchmaker.” She stroked sensual circles on his chest that seared through his flannel shirt.
“And you do realize a part of being a wife means being in my bed?”
Her hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck. “That’s the part I’m most looking forward to.”
* * *
Esme didn’t consider herself an impulsive person, but she’d never been more certain of anything. She wanted to make love to Jesse Stevens. Here, now, in this office that felt so much more like the essence of him than his perfectly decorated home he’d put together with a laser focus on creating some mythical family.
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