The Cowboy's Housekeeper

by Lori Copeland

  “We did; I lost my head. I’m sorry.” She slid the rolls out of the oven. “It will never happen again. Goodness. One little peck on your cheek and you go ballistic.”

  “It was a kiss.” He stiffened in his chair. “And darn inconsiderate of you. This situation is going to be hard enough without you making passes at me.”

  “Making passes at you!” She slammed the hot pan on the stove top. “You consider a friendly peck making a pass at you?”

  He launched himself out of the chair and stalked across the room to stand in front of the patio door. He ran his hands through his thick hair, the muscles in his back tensing.

  “I thought I had made it perfectly clear I’m doing you a favor. Nothing more.”

  The way he spat the last word struck her like a slap.

  “Well excuse me all the way to Austin, Mr. Rawlings.” It would be a cold day in you-know-where before she’d so much as look at him.

  “That’s how it starts- one little kiss. Next thing I know, I’ll be giving you friendly pecks, and then neighborly hugs and innocent winks and—”

  “Calm down and eat your breakfast, toad. I have no plans to ‘molest’ you ever again.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he returned to his chair and reached for a roll. “See that you don’t.”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “Do you want bacon with these rolls?”

  “No.”

  He picked up his fork to eat. “Simmer down. I’m sorry I jumped you like that but we need to stick to the agreement. No need to get all bent out of shape

  “I’m fine, you’re the one bent out of shape.” She didn’t bother to filter the sarcasm from her voice. She pushed a dish toward him. “Butter?”

  He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Maybe a glass of orange juice?”

  “Sure…boss.” Though she managed a civil tone, she shoved back from the table, causing his coffee to slosh over his plate.

  He snatched up a second roll and shoved back from the table. “Changed my mind. I think I’ll clear out.”

  “Maybe you should. I have floors to mop.”

  “Yeah—and hit the bathrooms, okay? They need freshening up.”

  He brushed by her, set his hat jauntily on his head, and stepped out the back door. A moment later he stuck his face through Rainey’s open kitchen window. “Remember, hands off the merchandise.”

  She gave him an ummpt face. “God give me strength,” she said out loud.

  Nine

  The Fourth of July dawned hot and muggy. Jessica sat in front of the kitchen fan drinking a glass of tea, and browsed through recipes on her laptop. Two months had passed since she and Jason began their arrangement.

  Since the morning of their argument over the innocent kiss, Jason kept a safe distance. Outwardly they laughed and talked, but inwardly Jessica was intensely aware of a tension between them. He must feel it too. And lately Rick Warner had begun to hang around Jessica’s doorstep, apparently a source of deep irritation to Jason.

  She paged down on the screen, scanning the list. What should she take to the annual picnic and Fourth of July dance? The celebration had been a standing tradition in this small town for over fifty years. In fact, it was the highlight of the year, second only to Christmas. Jessica was especially looking forward to the event having missed so many the past years. She had scheduled some vacations for a trip home, but most were working vacations that took her to Paris, Germany and Italy.

  The meal was always served in the open air unless it rained, in which case it was moved to the covered pavilion. The tables groaned under every type of food imaginable, each woman bringing her own particular specialty. Eight years ago, the dinner was viewed as an unspoken contest to see who had the most sought-after recipe at the end of the day. Jessica was sure that friendly competition hadn’t changed. Cakes, pies, breads, jams, jellies, fried chicken, hams, big buckets of corn on the cob dripping with homemade butter, freezers of fresh-churned ice cream, watermelons—the list went on and on.

  The men would try to out-eat one another, and the women would throw their diets out the window for the day. Having a teenager’s metabolism back then, Jessica never had to worry about her weight, but Aunt Rainey used to pay a heavy penalty the rest of the week.

  After the meal, when every button on their pants had popped, the old fiddlers would tune up their instruments, along with the guitar and banjo players. Before long every foot would be tapping, hands would be clapping, and couples would pair off for the dance. From then on, the old pavilion would fairly rock on its foundation until around midnight, when the merchants of the town put on a spectacular fireworks display that signaled the end of another happy, successful Fourth.

  Then came the job of gathering sleepy, slightly grimy children into parents’ arms, rounding up all the empty dishes, and heading for home, tired but happy.

  A recipe caught Jessica’s eye. What about German chocolate cake? That always seemed to be a hit wherever she went.

  A sound in the driveway alerted her to an approaching vehicle. The engine sounded like Jason’s truck. Surprised, she glanced at the clock. She rarely saw him around the house during the day. A door slammed, and a few minutes later he opened the back screen and poked his head in.

  “You got a minute, Jessie?”

  “Sure.” She closed the lid on her computer, got up from the table, and trailed him out into the yard. He’d parked his truck by his tractor. On the ground lay a set of jumper cables.

  “The tractor’s battery is as dead as a doornail.” He shook his head. “Won’t even take a jump. I want you to drive the truck. I’m going to try to pull-start it.”

  The first stirring of panic rose in her throat. “I don’t know, Jason. I’m not very good at things like this. Can’t you get Sam to help you?”

  He spoke curtly. “Sam’s plowing a field in the south section today.”

  “What about Rick?”

  “Everyone’s busy right now. Just do what I tell you, and you won’t have any problems.” He walked around to the front of the tracker and hooked up a thick, heavy chain. “Jump in my truck and drive. It’ll only take a minute.”

  She walked slowly to the truck. “I don’t think this is such a good id—”

  “Just get in it and back it up to the tractor so I can hook this chain on.”

  The damage she’d inflicted on the pickup the day after Aunt Rainey’s funeral had been repaired. No evidence of the mishap remained on the shiny new vehicle. She climbed onto the plush seat and turned the key in the ignition. The motor started up with a smooth sound. Eyes glued onto the rear-view mirror, she carefully backed the truck up to the tractor, her palms sweating. Jason hooked the heavy chain to the back of the truck and jumped up onto the tractor seat, shouting instructions.

  “Just give it a little gas, ease off the clutch real slow until you feel the chain go taut, then let off the gas when you hear the tractor start. Got it?”

  Sweat trickled down her back. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “Pull me down toward the barn,” he shouted. “Okay, go!”

  “Jason.” She stuck her head out the truck window for a final plea. “This really makes me nervous.”

  “Just do it, Jessie.” His voice snapped with impatience. “I haven’t got time to argue. Are you ready?”

  “I guess,” she said in a small voice.

  “Okay,” he ordered. “Go!”

  She pressed down on the gas pedal very slowly. The chain made a popping noise, like it was going to tear the whole bumper off the truck. She began crawling down the drive at a snail’s pace, perspiration dripping off her face and arms.

  “Faster,” Jason yelled. “You’ve got to get up more speed.”

  “God, I can’t do this.” She moaned the prayer as she let her foot slip from the gas pedal just a little. The heavy chain immediately went slack.

  “Keep it taut!” Jason shouted.

  In response, her foot came back down hard on the
pedal—too hard. She immediately let up on the gas again. No, wait. That was a mistake. The truck jerked Jason along on the tractor in giant hiccupping jolts.

  “Get the slack out, Jessie!” His shout held a note of hysteria now. Her foot slammed down even harder on the pedal, and the truck surged forward. The chain was definitely taut now. Then a loud snap sounded as the chain broke. The truck catapulted straight toward the barn at something just short of the speed of sound.

  Oh, no! She fought frantically to bring the vehicle under control. In an instant, the truck became her enemy. She put up a valiant fight, but the truck won. The front end plowed through the side of the barn as easily as a hot knife slicing through butter.

  Heart pounding, she glanced around sheepishly for a moment. Shoot. Trying to act nonchalant, she pulled the gear shift into reverse and backed slowly out of the yawning chasm. She hazarded a glance in the rearview mirror. Jason stood up on his tractor, his face a mask of astonishment. Coming out of his state of shock, he leaped off the tractor and ran toward the truck. “Are you hurt?” That sounded like real concern in his voice.

  By this time Jessica was shaking like a leaf and feeling like an utter fool—once again.

  “No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I don’t think so.”

  He let out a long breath and sagged against the truck. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead on his shirt sleeve. Knocking the dust from his hat on his denim-clad leg, he put it back on his head. “I know where we can make a fast buck, Angel. I can rent you out as a one-woman demolition squad.”

  What nerve! Anger surged, and in an instant, she was as mad as a wet hen. Furious tears sprang to her eyes. “I told you I couldn’t do it, but, no, you had to make me try—screaming at me, ‘Faster, Jessie, keep the chain taut, Jessie.’ You had me so nervous I could have died. Now you have the audacity to stand there and insinuate that it was my fault.” She jerked her door open and nearly fell out onto the ground. Regaining her balance, she stiffened her back. “I don’t have to stand here and take this.”

  With the air of a queen going to hold court, she turned and flounced off toward the house, leaving him standing in the rubble.

  The sounds of hammering and sawing could be heard as the tantalizing aroma of the chocolate cake drifted from the oven. Through the kitchen window, Jessica watched the wrecker pull Jason’s truck out of the farmyard while a ranch hand hammered away on the side of the barn. A feeling of foolishness swept over her again. Even if it wasn’t her fault this time, Jason’s men probably thought he’d hired a refugee from a mental institution as his housekeeper. It had become a standing joke among his men, the way she systematically went about destroying his vehicles. That was so not the way she wanted to be viewed—especially by Jason. Why did she keep humiliating herself in front of him?

  She went to the refrigerator and poured a large glass of lemonade, then stepped out through the back door.

  Jason approached, his face hot and flushed. “You got an extra glass of that?”

  She forced a pleasant tone. “There’s a whole pitcher full.”

  “I was coming in to cool off, and by the sound of things I won’t have any trouble.” He flashed a boyish grin that set her pulse fluttering.

  Jessica dipped her head toward the kitchen. “Go on in. It’s nice and cool in there.”

  He stepped into the kitchen, and then jerked backward so fast he nearly knocked her over. “Holy moly, it’s like a furnace in here.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Jessica forced a serene tone.

  “How do you put up with this all day?” He removed his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  She poured him a large glass of icy lemonade. “My ‘boss’ likes big, hot, home-cooked meals, remember?”

  Jason grinned sheepishly and took the glass of lemonade from her. “Do you realize the ‘boss’ has gained ten pounds this month alone on those home-cooked meals?”

  With a proud smile, she lowered her gaze to the tiny little tummy protruding slightly over the waist of his jeans. “I’d noticed.”

  He used his hat as a fan to stir up a breeze on his reddened face. “Why didn’t you say something about it being so hot in here? I’m never in the house enough in the daytime to notice. I’ll have one of the men put in an air conditioner first thing in the morning.”

  “I’d be eternally grateful.” Jessica dipped her head in acknowledgement.

  “You ready for the picnic tonight?” He took another long drink of lemonade.

  “Almost.” She flipped the oven light on and peered at her cake.

  “I’ll try to wind things up around four so we can get an early start.”

  Jessica turned a surprised look on him. “Am I riding with you?”

  “How else did you plan on getting there?” A smirk twisted his lips. “Drive my truck?”

  She chose to ignore the dig. “I don’t know—ride with Rick, I suppose. Aren’t you taking anyone?”

  Jason stared out the kitchen window toward the hammering down at the barn. “I’m taking you, aren’t I?’

  A pleased thrill coursed through Jessica. To hide her pleasure, she turned her back on him and removed her cake from the oven. The delicious, rich chocolate aroma permeated the hot kitchen.

  He gawked at the cake and inhaled deeply. “Well, that looks like another five pounds. Where did you learn to cook like a pro?”

  “Rainey. She says a man has to have the proper fuel to run a farm.”

  “She was right, as usual.” He touched his finger to the frosting.

  “Have you ever thought about not eating any?” she teased.

  “Nope, that would be sacrilegious.”

  A pleased giggle escaped her throat. She had managed to find the way to his stomach. Now if she could just find the way to his heart. The thought startled her. She had managed to keep the relationship of housekeeper/employee on a solid basis without once acknowledging her growing feelings, feelings she thought were long dead. This morning was the first hint of the old Jason.

  “Well, back to the old grind.” He picked up his hat and shoved it on his head.

  On his way to the back door he stopped and turned, his gaze catching hers. Something unreadable lay hidden in the soft green depths of his eyes. She swallowed hard. Oh, how she longed to walk over and kiss him. If they were married, that’s exactly what she would do every time he stuck that handsome mug of his in the door.

  But they weren’t married. Why kid herself into thinking they ever would be again?

  “Did you want something else, Jason?” she forced herself to ask lightly.

  “No, I was just thinking….” His voice trailed off. “See you tonight, Angel.”

  Then he was gone, the screen door slamming shut behind him. Her heart swelled with emotion for that irritating, lovable man who had once been hers.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered softly.

  Ten

  The festivities were in full swing when they pulled up in Jason’s Continental that evening. He got the picnic hamper out of the trunk, and they made their way through the crowd of friends and neighbors who shouted their hellos with boisterous backslapping and bone-crushing handshakes.

  “Jessica!”

  Rick Warner’s voice caught Jessica’s attention immediately. Beside her, Jason stiffened as Rick bounded up to them, his face a wreath of smiles— all for Jessica.

  “Hell-ooo, pretty lady.” Jessica had to laugh at his comical elation over her appearance. “I sure hope you brought whatever was making that mouth-watering smell float around in the air this afternoon.” He gave a broad wink. “I’ve been seriously thinking of offering to marry you all afternoon, just to be able to come home to your cooking every night.”

  Without allowing her the opportunity to reply, Jason took Jessica’s arm and propelled her through the picnic grounds.

  “Her cake will be on the table along with everyone else’s,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  To her delight, Rick trailed along beside th
em. “Can she eat a piece of it with me?”

  He cast an openly flirtatious glance her way, which made her giggle. Rick obviously wasn’t afraid of his boss’s grim expression.

  “That’s entirely up to the ‘pretty lady’,” Jason said.

  “Well, Jessica?” Rick hopped around them and planted his feet squarely in front of her, watching her hopefully.

  She pasted on a sweet smile. “I’ll make it a point to look you up when I’m ready for dessert, Rick.”

  Taking her hand in his, he gazed at her adoringly. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Jason walked on through the crowd, pulling her alongside him. “That punk kid gets on my nerves.”

  “For heaven’s sake, he’s not a kid. He’s my age.” She cast a look sideways. Was he jealous? What a delightful idea.

  “Then if you two ‘kids’ want to carry on a flirt-fest, do it when I’m not around,” he snapped.

  She opened her mouth to deliver a hot retort, then caught herself. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry, Jason. From now on we’ll try to control ourselves in your presence. We’re animals, you know, so it isn’t going to be---“He pulled her along faster.

  Jason paused and turned to face her. “Look. Let’s not do this tonight. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

  In the face of his open honesty, Jessica’s temper receded. She conceded with a dip of her forehead. “You’re right. We’ll make a pact—no digs or taunts. Not tonight. Deal?” She stuck out a hand.

  “Deal.” Instead of shaking to seal the deal, he grabbed hers in his left. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  Nor did he let go as they walked on through the crowd. Several people stopped to chat with them. While they were talking with the Ramseys, Jessica noticed a young woman standing off to the side, admiring Jason with her big, dark-brown eyes. Her expression resembled that of a child staring into a pet-store window full of puppies. Jessica might have even felt sorry for her, but at that moment Jason glanced at girl. Giving her a nod of greeting, he turned back to the conversation with Mr. Ramsey.