The Cowboy's Housekeeper

by Lori Copeland

  Sweet Thing must be the type that didn’t eat.

  Briefly closing her eyes, she imagined the scrumptious sandwich, meatloaf with green peppers and onions stuffed between two pieces of homemade white bread. Over the years she had often thought of ordering a dozen sandwiches and have Melba FEDEX them to her in Austin, but they wouldn’t taste the same. Nothing did these days.

  “I would love that.”

  “You supply the tea.”

  “Deal.” The old truck rattled along, the tire scraping against the fender well. She imagined his thoughts. His new truck compared to this one. Right now, his new one wasn’t in much better shape than this one.

  “By the way, Marcy Evans married Willis Mercy last week.”

  “Marcy Evans married Bo Bo Mercy?” Jessica burst into laughter. “You’re not serious! He’s as dull as a brown shoe!”

  “It’s true. Bought a crockpot, and attended the ceremony myself.”

  She snickered. “Marcy Mercy. Serves her right.”

  “I’m sure your pastor would be pleased with you right about now.”

  She sobered. “I’m sorry, that was an unkind remark, it’s just that—”

  “You and Marcy liked to compete.”

  “Actually, I liked her and she liked me until our junior year…” She caught back her words. They’d been BBFs until they fell in love with the same boy. She gripped the steering wheel, tears of laughter running down her cheeks at the picture of the elegant Marcy Evans being married to Willis Mercy. “Marcy Mercy!”

  Jason’s cool reserve finally broke and he joined in the laughter, both in near hysteria. She swerved the steering wheel, ran up on the curb and then swiftly got the truck back on pavement. A hubcap flew off and hit a street sign.

  Somehow the near accident made the incident even funnier.

  Jason finally managed to regain his composure and wiped his eyes on the arm of his blue shirt. His features wore a more tender expression as Jessica’s laughter subsided. Soft violet eyes came slowly up to meet lazy green ones and he said in a gentle tone, “If you’re asking me if I’m married, the answer is no. Not even close.”

  The bank came into view and she pulled the truck to the curb. Her gaze met his. “Well, you haven’t asked, but I’m not married, either.”

  “I know.”

  Her gaze widened.

  He winked. “Rainey and Fred have kept me well informed of your activities over the years. You have a successful clothing line, you drive a Jag and you came close to marrying a couple years back.”

  “Seems Rainey talked too much.”

  He laughed and got out of the truck. “See you around seven.” He strode off in the direction of the bank.

  “Sure, see you at seven.” Her eyes followed his strong, manly form down the street. “And at eight, and nine, and in all my dreams for as long as I continue to remember.”

  Four

  The old truck sped home smoothly, as if in sincere repentance for its bad behavior of the afternoon.

  Jessica made a hurried change into cooler shorts and tank top, then flopped onto the Early American sofa to call Celeste.

  “Hey, boss-lady,” came her cheerful voice.

  Jessica ignored the nickname, which her team knew irritated her, and plowed into the reason for the call. “Please tell me I have insurance.”

  “Sure. Health insurance. Life insurance. Home owner’s—”

  “Automobile insurance,” she interjected. “Specifically, while driving a vehicle that belongs to someone else.”

  “Uh, hold on a sec.” Fingers tapped on a keyboard at an astounding rate. “Indemnity, collision, blah, blah. Here it is. Yes, you’re covered, after a five-hundred-dollar deductible.” Curiosity entered her voice. “Who’s car did you wreck?”

  “My uncle’s,” she said. No reason in going into the whole embarrassing mess.

  She jotted down the information she needed, including the policy number and the phone number for claims.

  “Thanks, Celeste. Everything going okay there?”

  “The place is running like a top. But we miss you. When are you coming home?”

  Jessica’s grip on the phone tightened. “As soon as I possibly can. I have a few things to settle here, but hopefully it won’t take more than a few days.”

  When she’d disconnected the call, she flew around straightening the living room. It was a comfortable room with a sofa and chair placed before the large window. The sunlight streaming through cradled the green plants Aunt Rainey had hung. Dust lay thick on the maple end tables, and the air filled with the scent of lemons as Jessica applied furniture polish and rubbed until the wood gleamed. A large bouquet of flowers, fresh from the yard, rested in the center of the round glass coffee table in front of the sofa.

  She moved to the kitchen and fed Tabby his dinner. The cat hovered around her legs, no doubt feeling lost without Rainey. Jessica knew how she felt. Being in this house where everything reminded her of Rainey left a residue of melancholy in Jessica’s heart that no amount of busywork could banish. Could she force herself to give this place up? Hand it over to the church?

  Surely Rainey and Fred would be proud of her---or maybe she could work something out with Jason to get past that stipulation in the will.

  When the house looked as neat as if Raney had cleaned it herself, Jessica decided to have a quick shower and shampoo her hair before Jason arrived.

  “I’m being ridiculous,” she told Tabby. “You’d think I actually had a date with the man.” Tabby sat with his tail curved around his feet, staring up at her. “I don’t. This is just a business meeting, nothing personal. The subject of our past won’t even come up. I simply have a disagreeable chore to do”

  If he’d agree to help her with legal matters until she could receive her inheritance, then they could say goodbye forever.

  Tabby began to groom his paw, appearing rather bored by the whole conversation. Jessica left him to it and climbed the stairs to the bathroom off the hall from her bedroom. She had her tank top halfway off when it occurred to her that she was out of shampoo. Drat! She’d intended to get some while she was out, but it had slipped her mind in in all the confusion of the day. A quick glance at her watch showed that she nearly an hour before Jason was due. Plenty of time to tootle down to the drugstore and back.

  “Surely not one more thing could go wrong today.” She grabbed her purse and keys, calling to Tabby on the way downstairs. “Hold the fort, I’ll be right back.”

  Texas heat was terrible. The old seat in the truck was so hot on the backs of her legs she was forced to do a crazy dance trying to get the key turned on. The motor sprang to life.

  “Good boy,” Jessica told the truck as she gave the dash board an affectionate pate. Lavish praise for the cantankerous vehicle might sound stupid, but it couldn’t hurt.

  An empty parking space directly in front of the drugstore awaited her. Life was finally going her way.

  Springing onto the hot sticky pavement, she hurried to push open the glass door of the drugstore. The smell of medicinal jars and bottles tickled her nose while cool air washed over her.

  She found the shampoo display immediately, and studied the assorted bottles before her. No sign of the expensive product she used at home. A multitude of TV shampoo commercials flooded her mind. Biting her lip pensively, she struggled with the age-old problem. Did she want her hair shiny, swinging, voluptuous, full, or just plain clean? The image of a tall good-looking cowboy skipped lightly through her mind. Her hand hovered for a moment over the ‘voluptuous’ brand. Then she scolded herself. This is a business meeting. Not a date. She snatched the up ‘squeaky clean’ bottle and paid for the purchase.

  She hopped back into the truck and turned the key. Nothing. The old gray relic just sat there, silent as a flat rock. “No! Don’t do this to me.” She jiggled the key. Nothing. “If you don’t start, I’ll…I’ll kick your sorry rear bumper.”

  Apparently the truck did not respond to threats. Moaning, Jess
ica buried her hot, flushed face in her hands. This was turning out to be the longest day of her life. Now what was she going to do? Jason would be waiting when she got home. He couldn’t see her looking like this. Dirty hair. Sweaty clothes.

  Jerking the door handle, she slid out of the truck, marched around to the hood, yanked it open and stood staring helplessly into the yawning chasm of wires, gadgets and doodads. Everything in the engine looked like it needed to be replaced. Though she had many talents, she couldn’t claim ‘mechanic’ as one of them. What was that wire there? She jiggled it a bit. Then found another one to jiggle. Praying silently for a miracle, she hopped back into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition switch again.

  Silence from the old truck.

  Her temper registering a .9 on the Richter scale, she stormed out of the truck. Her eyes glimpsed a large wrench lying in rusty bed of the vehicle. She snatched it and stomped to the hood again, defiance in every step. If the darned thing wouldn’t cooperate, she’d bang its innards

  until it learned obedience. Over and over she brought the heavy wrench down. She leaned over into the motor, halfway burying herself in the engine, whacking at the contents without mercy.

  The cashier from the drug store exited through the glass door and stood gaping at her.

  Sweat rolled down Jessica’s back, and her anger flared to a dangerous level. With a final vigorous whack to at battery, she straightened to survey the scene. All her work with the wrench didn’t show a single dent. Disgusted, she wiped greasy hands on the back of her shorts and she climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “I’ve had it with you,” she warned the vehicle.

  A bead of sweat rolled off her nose. Nice.

  This time when she turned the key, and the old engine purred sweetly to life. Jessica closed her eyes and slumped over the steering wheel. This truck was going to be the death of her.

  She got back out one final time to slam down the old hood, which took three tries, before the lock caught. When she shoved the gearshift into first, a loud grounding noise filled the cab. A man passing on the sidewalk at that moment winced at the grating, tearing sound. A glance at her watch revealed she only had a few minutes before Jason arrived, and she still had to take a shower. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs. She felt as though she had worked on a chain gang this afternoon.

  The last stoplight caught her at the end of town. She sat tapping her nails on the steering wheel, waiting for the green light. When the signal changed, she peeled out and flew along the unpaved road leading to the farmhouse. The last thing she needed today was a speeding ticket. She eased up on the gas pedal. Naturally, the truck refused to obey, but continued at the same speed. This truck was stepping on her last nerve.

  As the driveway to Aunt Rainey’s came into view, Jessica stomped the gas pedal, trying to un-stick it. Her left foot slammed on the brake hard, at the same time trying to negotiate the turn into the drive. The ancient speedometer registered twenty-eight. She was taking the turn at twenty-eight miles an hour! Aunt Rainey’s few remaining chickens set up a terrible squawking, feathers flying as they scrambled to safety.

  Jessica shot into the farmyard at the speed of a bullet, her eyes widening in astonishment when she spotted a gray Lincoln Continental in the driveway. What was that doing there? The thought barely had time to register before the truck came to a grinding halt—its front bumper embedded in the Continental’s rear end.

  She closed her eyes as the melodious tinkle of the lenses falling from the Lincoln’s taillights broke the silence. Her heart sank as the old engine died a sputtering death.

  The tall man standing on the porch, about to knock on the door, spun around at the sound of the crash. Jason. Her spirits sank to her flip-flops. A look of sheer incredulity crossed his features as he walked slowly down the steps, toward Jessica’s side of the truck. He glanced at the back of his car with a stunned expression and then turned to face her.

  In a very small, defensive voice, she said, “You’re early.”

  Still not taking his eyes from her, he leaned casually against the remains of his bumper and stared at her.

  Her breath caught in her chest, Jessica was afraid to move.

  He exhaled a slow breath and spoke in a calm voice. “Did you check on your insurance?”

  She nodded, and managed to squeak out, “I have good insurance.”

  “It had better be darn good.”

  She released her breath in a quick spurt. “It’s the gas pedal again!”

  Jason shoved away from the truck, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Was he holding back anger? Not that she could blame him if he were. A moment later she was sure of it, when he jerked her door open with so much force she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had broken the hinges.

  Heat that had nothing to do with the Texas sun filled her face. Even the tips of her ears burned. This day had been chock-full of emotion, not a single one good. It was too much. To her horror, tears stung her eyes, and no amount of blinking could hold them back. She was going to cry, right here in front of the one person she didn’t want to display any emotions to. Her shoulders began to shake, and she buried her face in her hands and bawled like a baby.

  “Oh, shoot.”

  A set of strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her out of the truck. She was held against a firm, solid chest. The clean fragrance of soap and aftershave swirled about her. She sobbed even harder.

  “Come on now, Angel.” He stroked the hot, sticky hair away from her forehead. “No need to cry over a car.” He cleared his throat. “Or two.”

  The sound of his old nickname, the name she never thought to hear again, opened a new floodgate.

  “I—I’m so sorry.” She wiped her eyes on his shoulder, and then struggled out of his hold. He set her down, but when her flip-flops were firmly on the ground, didn’t move away. Hot, salty tears continued to run in streams down her face.

  “Hey, it’s not that bad.” He placed a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his. “The insurance will take care of it.”

  “I know, but it’s not just the wrecked vehicles.” The words shuddered out of her heaving chest. “You can’t begin to imagine what a nightmare this day has been.”

  With a gentle gesture, he smoothed her hair back from her face and tucked it around her ear. “I think I can. Mine hasn’t been what you’d call a red-letter day either.” His eyes took in his wrecked car.

  With an attempt, she choked back the worst of the tears. He must think her a complete ninny. “I’m so sorry about your truck—and now your car. Then there’s that ridiculous will.” She sniffled loudly. “And then this—this—despicable piece of junk.” Her foot shot out to level a firm kick on the truck. “It has done nothing but torment me all day.”

  “Well, it could be worse,” he said with not much conviction. “I don’t think the car has quite as much damage as the truck.”

  “Really?” Her spirits lifted slightly.

  He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “You’re covered in oil or something.”

  The hint of amusement in his eyes more than his comment did much to dispel the last of the tears. What would her employees think if they could see their ‘boss-lady’ in such a state? She was usually more composed than this.

  “I—I need to clean up. Shall we go inside?”

  He gestured for her to precede him to the house. On the porch, he stooped to retrieve a white paper bag he’d dropped there—their sandwiches, probably—and followed her through the door.

  When he stepped into the living room, he pitched his Stetson in Uncle Fred’s big reclining chair in front of the stone fireplace, a habit so familiar she caught her breath. Some things never changed, like the way the enduring habit tugged at her heart strings. Ties she thought were long broken.

  “Would you like some iced tea while I clean up?” Jessica asked, already on her way to the kitchen.

  He followed her. “Sounds good to me. Plenty of ice.” Sliding into a seat at the oak
table, his gaze roamed around the room. “Boy, does this kitchen bring back memories.”

  Though she’d give all she owned to know his thoughts, she bit back the question. Were they happy memories? Bad ones? Regrettable ones?

  “I’d like to have a nickel for every piece of Rainey’s apple pie I’ve eaten in here.” He laughed.

  A smile tugged at Jessica’s lips as she removed a tray of ice from the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. “You’d be a wealthy man,” she joked.

  Tabby sauntered into the room as she set a tall glass of tea—with plenty of ice—in front of him. The cat sat primly beside Jason’s chair, looking up at him with an unmistakable request in his feline eyes.

  “Oh, okay, pest.” Jason obliged, and reached down to stroke the cat, who arched into his hand.

  Jessica snatched up the bag from the drug store. “I’ll leave you to entertain each other. I’ll only be a few minutes.” She hurried from the room without waiting for an answer. Having him here, in this house where they’d spent so many hours as teenagers in love, played on her nerves more than she’d anticipated.

  On the way to the bathroom she snatched a clean pair of shorts and a tee-shirt from her suitcase. She locked the bathroom door, and then tested the handle with a jiggle. Not that Jason would try anything. Even as a teenager he’d treated her with respect in that regard, though at times resisting the physical urges had been almost more than either of them could withstand. Even after their failed marriage, when loving each other would have been perfectly legal—for the few days it lasted—they had remained chaste, for which Jessica had been thankful many times over the years.

  Showers were necessarily short in this house, but tonight Jessica broke records. When she’d dried off, donned fresh clothes, and brushed her hair, she stood in front of the mirror. Wiping a clear circle from the steamy glass, she inspected herself. Wet locks of hair the color of Texas wheat fell midway-down her back. When the humidity finished its job, it would look three times as thick as it already was. Should she blow it dry? She decided not to, nor did she opt for applying makeup. This was a business meeting, nothing else. Instead, she fished in the vanity drawer until she found a scrunchee, and pulled the wet tresses into a pony tail at the back of her neck.