His friend fisted his hands on his scrawny hips. “I’m the one who’s been waiting for you.”
Limping across the floor, Elwood paused next to Honor, and the deep lines in his face softened. “That was a real nice thing you did for my granddaughter. She’s been worrying herself to death over this wedding.”
“I hope I don’t make a hash of it.”
Speculation glimmered in his eyes. “Chase seems to think you can do most anything you set your mind to.”
Warmth flowed through her, easing some of the aching tiredness. “He said that?”
“I thought it was just the boy’s overactive hormones talking, but I can see for myself he’s right.” His lips turned up in a grin. “Though you certainly are a beauty. If I were fifty years younger...”
“Quit flirting and move your hide, you old goat. There’s a stool down at the Rusty Nail with my name on it.”
“Stop your yakking, Lyle. What’s the rush? You can’t drink more than one beer, not after the doc put you on a restricted diet—” The clanging bells cut off his words as the door shut.
Honor dropped onto the padded seat of the booth behind her and stared at Marge. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“Seems like a golden opportunity to me. You need a project to keep you busy.”
“Working in the café isn’t enough? I’m so tired, I was afraid I’d fall asleep over my order pad.”
She waved away Honor’s exhaustion with a flip of her wrist. “Trust me; this’ll be good for you. The Paladins are entertaining and distracting, especially Chase.” Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “But I’m pretty sure you figured that out for yourself.”
Her cheeks heated, remembering the way he’d kissed her senseless last night. “Distracting isn’t the first word that springs to mind, but it works.”
Marge’s gruff voice deepened. “Mind yourself around him. He isn’t the settling down sort.”
“Why am I not surprised?” When the cook opened her mouth, Honor held up a hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a pro at dealing with men like Chase Paladin.”
“Don’t be so sure. That man might just surprise you.”
****
Honor bumped along the dirt road leading from the highway to the Circle P ranch. As the undercarriage of the compact car scraped over rocks, she cringed. According to Marge’s directions, the ranch was less than a mile away, possibly on the other side of the slight incline dead ahead. The hill and the large cottonwood at its crest were the only distinguishable features on the endless prairie.
Topping the rise, she braked and drew in a breath. A long, low ranch house with a wide front porch, a huge red barn, and scattered outbuildings rested in a hollow just below her. A shallow creek lined with honey mesquite and chokecherry meandered through an open pasture. From the corral beside the barn, horses swished their tails, their attention focused on the lone bull in a fenced enclosure. In the distance, cattle roamed across the grassland, their red hides gleaming beneath the late afternoon sun.
She let out a low whistle and put the car in gear. The Circle P reminded her of the western postcards she’d seen in convenience store racks on her trip west. All that was needed to complete the picture was a cowboy.
With precision timing, Chase rounded the side of the barn, tilted his straw hat back on his head, and waved.
Parking between his black pickup and a second, older model, she left the car and headed in his direction. Bo sidled up beside her, and she paused to scratch the hound’s ears. Stalling tactics. After their last encounter, nerves held her mute. Wiping her hands on the seat of her shorts, she slowly turned to face him.
“Afternoon, Honey.”
Her gaze locked on the curve of his lips, the smoothly shaven jaw and hard chin. She swallowed. Raising her eyes, she discovered a twinkle in his. If the man weren’t so dammed handsome—she gave herself a mental shake. “Hey, Chase. Your sister is expecting me.”
“She mentioned it.” He took a step closer. “Ever been on a horse?”
Her brows shot up along with her heart rate. “Why?”
“I thought we might take a ride after you and Jenna iron out all the reception details.”
She bit her lip. The last time she’d ridden a horse was in high school, back when husband number three was still crazy about her mother and willing to pay for equestrian lessons.
Longing to take him up on his offer vied with common sense and self preservation. “I don’t think it would be such a great idea.”
His grin triggered a slow burn that started in her belly and headed south.
“Afraid you might fall off?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared him down. “I’m a competent rider.”
“What if I promise to keep my hands to myself?”
The silky drawl touched raw nerve endings, sending a shiver through her. “I’d be a fool to believe you.”
“Have I given you any reason not to trust me?”
He probably practiced that wide eyed, innocent look in front of a mirror. Her gaze strayed to the sleek horses frisking around the corral, as she capitulated. “Maybe a short ride.”
“Whatever you say. Come on out when you finish with Jenna. I’ll have the horses saddled.”
Walking backward, he turned and disappeared before she could change her mind. Smart man. She headed across the yard toward the house, a smile on her lips. Before she reached it, the front door flew open and Jenna emerged onto the porch followed by a young woman with a curvy figure and shiny black hair that fell to her waist.
“Honor, thank you so much for coming.” Running down the steps, she grabbed her hands and squeezed. “I’d like you to meet my maid of honor, Missy Cahill. She teaches at our school in town. Missy, this is Honor Jackson.”
Disengaging from Jenna’s vice like grip, she smiled at the other woman. Her name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
Missy gave her a long stare. “Both Jenna and Chase have been singing your praises.”
Her smile faded. “Let’s hope I live up to their expectations.”
“I have complete confidence in you.” Taking her arm, Jenna led her around the house. “We’re holding the reception in the back yard.” Hand waving, she pointed toward the expanse of green lawn. “We’ll set up tables over to the left and serve dinner from a buffet on the patio. The barbecue pit is just around the corner.” She closed her eyes and swayed to a soundless tune, a smile curving her lips. “Can’t you just picture it, the band playing next to the rose garden and everyone dancing in the moonlight?”
“It’ll be lovely, Jenna,” Missy said softly.
Her eyes popped open. “Oh, I hope so.”
“As to the food...” The other girl cast a sneering glance toward Honor.
What is her problem? Dislike fairly radiated from the maid of honor. Wondering what she’d done to garner her ill will, Honor turned to study the yard. At least it was level. There wouldn’t be any tilting tables or sliding dishes. If the servers wore flats to avoid catching a heel in the grass...
Jenna smoothed her hands down the short skirt of her dress and laughed. “Right, food. Let’s go inside and talk menus.”
A sliding glass door from the patio opened straight into the kitchen. Warm clay tiles covered the floor and were repeated in the countertops. A big work island flanked by bar stools sat in the center of the large room, and stainless steel appliances interspersed with oak cabinets edged the perimeter. The tantalizing aroma of chicken and herbs wafted from an oversized crock pot.
“Smells great.” She took a seat on the stool next to the bride-to-be. Recipes in spidery handwriting were scattered across the countertop.
“Pop’s chicken and dumplings. We all share cooking duty around here. After Grandma died, I made it clear I wasn’t cut out to be chief cook and bottle washer.”
Honor grinned. “I’m trying to picture Chase wearing an apron.”
“You’d be amazed. His tacos are to die for. On my brot
her’s night, we always have Mexican.”
“You haven’t lived ’til you’ve eaten his enchiladas,” Missy said with an edge to her voice.
The memory snapped into place. She’d stood beside Chase in the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk, listening to the owner tease him about a pissed off female named Missy. Good God, had Chase dated his sister’s maid of honor? She opened her mouth to ask, but shut it, certain she’d be stirring up trouble.
“Maybe Chase should cook for your wedding.”
Shuffling through the scattered recipe cards, Jenna glanced at her and smiled. “He’ll be putting in some time at the grill and carving board. We decided to go with marinated tri-tip roast. Easier than steaks and not as messy as ribs. Can you imagine barbecue sauce on my wedding dress?”
Missy shuddered. “Don’t even mention the possibility.”
“Ah, here it is.” Jenna held up a card. “Grandma’s baked bean recipe. It wouldn’t be a Paladin family party without them.”
Honor took it from her and read through the ingredients. “This I can manage. What else?”
“Somewhere in this mess is a recipe for potato salad. Missy, help me look.”
Honor found the card stuck to the back of an apple pie recipe. Jenna squealed and hugged her.
“That’s the one. Thanks. We’ll also need to serve a green salad and rolls. Then there’re the appetizers.” She raised a brow. “Any suggestions? Chase mentioned something about award winning quiche.”
“Bite sized bacon, spinach, and cheese quiche that melts in your mouth.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
“Stuffed mushrooms?”
“Oh, God, I love those things. What else?”
The woman was nothing if not easy to please. Honor’s confidence rose. “How about chicken sate skewers, and for those who like their hors d’oeuvres with a kick, pepper poppers.”
“You’re making my mouth water. We can put out baskets of chips to keep the kids happy, and maybe crackers with some kind of dip.”
“I make a killer artichoke dip.”
“Yum, I adore that stuff.”
Honor touched her arm. “Are you sure, Jenna? Chase said you like exotic, and all this seems pretty ordinary to me. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
A grin spread across her face. “He only said that because I always try strange ethnic dishes when it’s my turn to cook.” She wrinkled her nose. “Some of them have been pretty awful. For my wedding, I want traditional food everyone will love. Really, what you’ve suggested is exactly right.”
“That’s a relief. Fancy and exotic is beyond my capabilities, especially in large quantities. Exactly how many people are you expecting at the reception?”
“At last count, we had one hundred and thirty-seven confirmed with twenty invites still outstanding.”
“Then I’ll plan for one-fifty.” Sweat broke across her brow just thinking about feeding so many people.
“Perfect,” Jenna said with a satisfied smile. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have this particular problem solved. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about alcohol. We’re ordering kegs of beer and wine from a shop in Amarillo.”
Missy touched her friend’s shoulder. “We should take off. You told Nora you’d talk to her about the wedding cake, and then we’re meeting Troy and Brady.”
Blue eyes widened. “I forgot all about Nora. I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She turned to Honor. “I hope you won’t be offended if I run. Please call me anytime if you have questions.”
“I don’t mind in the least. I sort of promised Chase I’d go for a short ride with him, and I imagine he’s waiting.”
“You’ll have a blast. There’s nothing my brother likes better than showing off the ranch.”
Missy tossed a strand of dark hair over her shoulder. “There may be a couple of things.” Her lips pursed in a grim line, and she crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Let’s go, Jenna.”
Honor wasn’t sure why she’d mentioned the horseback ride. She’d known it would stir up the other girl, and it had. The small spurt of satisfaction dissipated rapidly. Childish. There was no other word for it. But the way Missy looked at her—like she was a steaming pile of cow dung—made her want to lash out.
The women separated in the parking area, and Honor went searching for Chase. She found him in the barn, rubbing liniment into a nasty looking cut on an older horse’s hindquarters. With weary eyes, the mare stared over her shoulder.
Chase looked up and flashed a smile. “The poor old girl tangled with some barbed wire.”
She rubbed the mare’s gray muzzle. “I can relate. I’ve felt the sting of a few barbs in my time.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your ex isn’t my biggest fan.”
He set the liniment on a shelf and turned slowly, wiping his hands on a rag. The antiseptic odor hung in the air between them.
“Missy is still a little steamed over our breakup.”
“Imagine that.”
“She’s dating again, but relations between us are a bit awkward, especially with the wedding coming up.”
Honor stuffed her hands into her pockets. “That doesn’t explain why she took such an instant aversion to me.”
He hefted a saddle from a rack against the wall and gave her a long, slow perusal. “My admiration for you must have shown when I described the way you helped Andee through her labor.”
“That’s it?”
His eyes opened wide. “Must be. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Heat crept up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks. “About that ride—”
“Grab the cream colored saddle and let’s get cracking. You were so quick, I didn’t have time to saddle the horses.” He glanced over his shoulder and raised a brow. “Almost looks like you couldn’t wait to see me.”
She snorted. “Yeah, that was it.”
Following him out to the corral, she waited while he saddled the horses. Finished with the task, he led a drowsy looking gelding with a comical patch of white over one eye in her direction. “Tuck shouldn’t give you any trouble.”
She stared at the swaying horse. “Unless he falls asleep while we’re riding.”
“You want a more spirited mount?”
Patting the horse’s warm, quivering neck, she smiled when he nudged her shoulder with his nose. “No, this one seems to like me.”
“That tired look of his is a ruse designed to elicit sympathy and treats. He’s a player.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” she muttered. Sticking her sneaker clad foot in the stirrup, she swung up onto his back. “At least I didn’t wear sandals.”
His warm gaze ran up her bare legs, across her tan shorts, and over her bright red T-shirt, sending a tide of heat in its wake.
“I’ll get you a hat. Don’t want you to burn that pretty little nose.”
She swallowed. “My nose doesn’t burn. It freckles.”
“I noticed.” Long strides took him into the barn. He returned with a straw hat sporting an intricately beaded band. “It’s Jenna’s, so it should fit.”
When he handed it to her, she plunked it on her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”
His clear green eyes blazed emerald for a moment before he turned away. “You bet.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest and then pounded out a reckless rhythm.
Opening the gate, he led his horse through and waited for her to follow. The latch fell with a solid thud as he closed it behind them and swung into the saddle with easy grace. “Let’s ride.”
Chapter Five
Riding a horse with a boner wasn’t one of Chase’s favorite pastimes. Just looking at Honor gave him an instant erection. And it wasn’t only the gorgeous face and killer body; he’d dated plenty of women with those attributes. There was something special about this woman, something in the way she looked at him with those knowing eyes that sent his libido soaring. He shifted in the saddle and grimaced. Among other things.
“Wow, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this.” Honor tilted her face into the breeze and closed her eyes. “I love the feel of a horse moving beneath me, all that live energy waiting to be released.”
Lord all mighty, is she trying to torture me? “I wouldn’t mind releasing a little energy.” Giving his mare a kick, he flew across the pasture. The speed eased some of his tension, and he glanced behind him to make sure Honor was keeping up. A huge smile stretched across her face, and she let out a whoop as she bent over Tuck’s neck.
When they reached the creek, he pulled back on the reins and slowed to a walk. The gelding trotted up beside him.
“This horse is faster than he looks.”
“And you’re better than I expected. Where’d you learn to ride?”
Her lips tightened. “Virginia.”
“Are we going to do this again?” He let out a long sigh.
She frowned. “Do what?”
“Are you going to answer every personal question I ask in monosyllables? I’d like to get to know you, and you’re making it damned difficult.”
“No need to get snippy about it.”
He grinned, his irritation dissolving. “Come on, Honey, it can’t be all bad.”
Threading her fingers through the horse’s mane, she bit her lip. “It wasn’t. I liked number three. He was—is terrific.”
His brows shot up beneath the brim of his hat. “Number three?”
She gave him a long, assessing look, her blue eyes the color of sapphires. Apparently he passed whatever mental test she put him through.
“My dad was husband number one, a couple years younger than my mom. He was a handsome dare devil who loved to fly more than anything.” She took a breath. “His stealth bomber crashed over Iraq during the First Gulf War. I was eight.”
The granite tone of her voice didn’t encourage pity, and he fought back the urge to commiserate. “Must have been tough.”
She grimaced. “Mom handled it poorly. She isn’t cut out to be alone, so she married number two six months later. He was a lot like Dad—except he wasn’t. They had these unbelievable screaming matches...” She swallowed. “Anyway, it ended in divorce when I was in middle school.”
Honky Tonk Hearts Volume 2 Page 5
