The Rancher and the Rich Girl

by Heather MacAllister

  As she glared at him, Jessica felt her anger grow. Even though she knew her emotions had gone ping-ponging the last few minutes, she told herself this conversation would have angered her coming at any time.

  She heard footsteps as Sam freed himself from the fence and came running.

  “What happened?”

  “Sheba killed a snake,” Jessica answered, avoiding Matt’s gaze.

  “Cool!” Sam ran over to the tiger, and though Jessica’s first instinct was to stop him, she didn’t.

  “Oooh, there’s guts!”

  She finally looked at Matt again. “I think now is a good time for me to back off.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  IF THERE’D BEEN A STURDY fence post around, Matt would have beat his head against it.

  Jessica Fremont, who’d occupied more of his thoughts than he’d admit to anyone, had been in his arms, and what had he done?

  Lectured her on child-rearing.

  It was no surprise that Jessica had been cool toward him the past couple of days. It was just as well. They had about as much chance of getting together as that fool zebra and the mule.

  Matt watched Sam work at the morning chores in the barn. The boy had been eager from the first, but too concerned about getting his clothes dirty. Only after Matt had assured him that his mother knew that dirt and chores went together did Sam relax.

  It was obvious he’d been raised by women, no offense intended. By all accounts, they’d done a good job, but there were some things about being a man that a boy wanted to learn from males. Sam needed to learn more than how to ride a horse in these couple of weeks.

  Matt walked over to him. “Good job on the mucking, Sam. I know it’s not a fun job.”

  “I don’t mind,” the boy said quickly. “If the animals’ stalls aren’t cleaned, they’re going to get sick, right?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  He looked worried. “I’ve been doing a real good job.”

  “I know. That’s what I said.”

  “Well...I think Sheba’s sick.”

  Matt had noticed that the tiger had spent the last two nights in one of the stalls, but since Shelby was determined to stay and Sally was here, he hadn’t thought much of it. “What makes you think she’s sick?”

  “She didn’t eat her food, and when I tried to clean up after her, she growled at me,” Sam said all in a rush.

  That didn’t sound like Sheba. “Where is she?”

  Sam pointed and Matt went over to the far stall and took a look.

  “Hey, old girl.” Mindful of Sam’s warning about the growling, Matt squatted down, but didn’t try to touch her.

  Sheba barely lifted her head.

  Matt dropped his. Nuts and double nuts. Sometimes he wondered if the struggle was worth it.

  “Is she sick?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, you called it right.”

  “Can you take her to the doctor?”

  “Tigers are special.” Matt stood and managed a smile. “The doctor comes to them.”

  For a price. The exotic animal specialist would have to helicopter in. Well, he hadn’t been out in a while, and as long as Matt was paying for a call, he probably ought to have the other animals checked out. Krinkov would complain, and Matt wasn’t looking forward to convincing him the cost was necessary.

  Between the hole and the fence and expensive vets, Jessica’s money would soon be gone. He’d probably end up selling Black Star after all, unless something happened and the price of beef went through the roof.

  “Make sure she has fresh water, and we’ll keep an eye on her,” he said to Sam.

  “Keep an eye on whom?”

  Jessica stood in the doorway, the first time she’d come out to the barn since she’d ordered the materials for the repairs. The sun behind her made her hair look almost as blond as Sam’s.

  She was wearing white shorts that showed off her legs and an itty bitty sleeveless red top that looked like one of Frank’s undershirts would if it had shrunk about thirty sizes.

  Matt swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Must be from the dust thrown up by the hay, he told himself.

  “Sheba’s sick,” Sam said.

  “What’s wrong?” Her concerned face had lost that carefully pleasant mask that Matt hated.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  She came over to the stall and stared at the tiger.

  Her perfume added a flowery smell to the barn. He could smell it in the house, too, even when she was sitting outside by the tree.

  Sometimes, when he came back to the house to wash up for lunch, he’d go by Barnaby’s old room and just breathe in all the feminine scents. For the longest time, he’d associated perfume with the heavy incense odor that permeated Katya’s and Carmen’s trailers.

  This was different. This was Jessica.

  Sam was telling her all about finding Sheba. Matt moved a few inches closer, under the guise of adding a forkful of hay to the stall.

  He was close enough to feel the warmth coming from her body—or was that his body?

  He relived the brief moments she’d spent in his arms, half hoping Sheba would growl or snap and Jessica would take refuge there again.

  He could see her shoulder blades above the scooped back of her top. When Matt thought about a woman, he never thought about her shoulder blades, but something about Jessica’s appealed to him.

  She turned to him. A fine gold chain lay across her collarbone and disappeared into the neckline. He wanted to trace it with his finger and clutched the pitchfork handle to keep from doing so. And he’d been admiring her shoulder blades.

  She was looking at him expectantly. Her eyes were so blue and her mouth was just a few inches away.

  “Matt?”

  He liked the way she said his name. Matt and not “Mat-you” like Krinkov and Katya.

  “Matt.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I asked when you were going to call the doctor.”

  He should have been paying attention instead of mentally slobbering over her. “I’ll need to let Krinkov know first. Sheba’s his tiger.”

  “And he’ll call the vet?”

  Maybe. Maybe not. It depended on what Krinkov thought was wrong with the tiger. “I’ll call the vet.”

  She looked worriedly at Sheba. “I came to tell you that the delivery service phoned and they can get your boards out here by noon. I thought you could get your crew here to get them started on repairing the hole, but I don’t want Sheba disturbed.”

  “Let’s worry about that later.” He needed to get out of the barn before he did something stupid like trying to kiss her in front of Sam. “I’ll go call the vet.”

  * * *

  MATT PROBABLY HADN’T EVEN noticed that she’d been staying out of the way the past couple of days. But that didn’t mean Jessica didn’t watch him work with Sam.

  From the ranch office window, she’d see them walking together, followed by the little horse, as they got tools out of the ramshackle shed she couldn’t wait to raze. Matt seemed to talk a lot more to Sam than he did when she was around. She was dying to ask what they talked about, but knew her questions wouldn’t be welcome.

  Whatever, Sam clearly adored Matt, and Jessica was afraid this would be a problem when it came time to leave. That’s why she frequently sprinkled her dinner conversation with lots of sentences beginning with, “When we get back to Lightning Creek.” Sam never acknowledged her attempts to remind him that they were only here a short time, and Matt would simply gaze at her with those dark eyes of his.

  And so she backed off.

  Jessica had fallen into the habit of taking a morning break with Lita. She’d bring her laptop and Lita would surf the net for recipes and Jessica woul
d stand by the window and watch Sam’s riding lesson.

  Yesterday, Matt had saddled the one other ranch horse and he and Sam had ridden off together without telling her where they were going. And had she complained? Sam still wasn’t a confident rider and Matt didn’t have a cell phone—what if Sam fell off Black Star and they needed medical help? What if they encountered another snake?

  But they’d returned in time for dinner, and Sam was so thrilled with his day, she couldn’t say anything to spoil it.

  That night, Lita had fixed a hearty stew with homemade bread—a lot heavier meal than Jessica was used to eating in the hot summer weather, but not for two people who’d been riding all afternoon.

  And this morning, it was already hot. She’d brought too many pairs of jeans and not enough shorts. How could Matt stand wearing jeans and boots?

  Speaking of hot, this barn was stifling.

  “Here, Sheba.” Sam set a bowl of water near the tiger.

  Jessica hoped the vet would get here soon. The animal really didn’t look all that great. “Get well, old girl,” she said. “Sam, do you know what you’re supposed to be doing?”

  Sam nodded, so she left him in the barn.

  She hoped Matt noticed that she was leaving Sam on his own.

  Before going back into the house, she stopped by the pecan tree to check and see if her wallet had fallen yet. She didn’t mind the loss of the wallet so much as the hassle of replacing her driver’s license.

  While she was standing there, she heard the mufflerless rumble of Frank’s old black truck several moments before it emerged from the trees.

  Frank’s work hours puzzled her. He came and went seemingly at will and had no assigned duties as far as Jessica could tell. Lita was nearly as bad, except that she came every day. Sometimes she stayed the entire day, sometimes she worked part of the day. She would either cook there or bring covered dishes from wherever she lived.

  Frank pulled his truck next to the shed about where Jessica was going to have the building materials put. Never mind. She’d tell him later.

  “Hello, lovely lady!” he called and waved.

  Jessica waved back. Frank wasn’t so bad, and he made Sam laugh with his outrageous stories.

  Besides, his appreciative looks were good for a girl’s ego.

  She was on her way back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, when she met Lita and Matt coming out the back.

  “Lita’s making a trip into town,” Matt said. “Do you need anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Have sandwiches and potato salad for lunch,” Lita called on her way to the car. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh, goody. I can steal the washing machine.” Jessica rubbed her hands together, prompting a smile from Matt.

  The machine was going constantly. The ranch house didn’t have a dryer, and most of the clothes hanging on the line outside the kitchen weren’t Matt’s.

  “She takes in laundry for other folks,” he explained.

  Using your machine and supplies, Jessica thought, but didn’t say. It wasn’t her business if Matt let himself be taken advantage of.

  “Just tell her if you need to use the washing machine.”

  “I think it’s easier this way,” Jessica replied.

  “You’re probably right.” Matt seemed inclined to linger with her, ignoring the increasingly loud grunts and groans from Frank as he wrestled some piece of machinery out of the back of the truck.

  “You and Lita seem to be getting along okay.”

  “Only because I surrendered the kitchen. Willingly I might add.” Jessica laughed and noticed Matt’s gaze drop to her mouth.

  Did he realize what he was doing?

  “You seem to have found plenty to keep you busy during the day.” As he spoke, his gaze roamed over her face, and when it reached her eyes, she was flattered to see a definite interest in his.

  “I brought work with me—updating the Fremont Construction catalog. Which reminds me, the iron arch by the highway entrance—where did you get it?”

  “That’d be old Tom Andersen’s work.”

  “Old? Is he still...?” she asked delicately.

  “He lives in the circus village. Still works iron.”

  “I’d love to talk with him. I’m always looking for artisans for the catalog.”

  “I’m going to have to visit Krinkov later. You and Sam can tag along, if you like. I was thinking of taking Sam, anyway.”

  “Thanks.” Jessica smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Okay.”

  His return smile made her heart give a little blip.

  He found her attractive and he was letting her know it. At the same time, Jessica instinctively knew Matt would never act on his feelings without the right signal from her.

  An interesting dilemma. As she’d realized in the past month, she’d spent too much time concentrating on being Sam’s mother and had forgotten she was a young, single woman.

  The old impulsive Jessica was shouting, “Come here, cowboy.”

  The sensible Jessica reminded herself that she was a woman who owned a velour robe.

  “Matthew! I’m an old man and can’t compete with a lovely lady, but my back, she begs you.”

  Matt glanced over at Frank, then back at Jessica. Gesturing with a thumb, he said, “I’ve gotta go.”

  She nodded and watched him stride toward the truck. Midway, he saw Sam coming from the barn and waited until her son caught up with him.

  Jessica sighed. There was a lot to admire about that man. If she were choosing the kind of man to become Sam’s stepfather, Matt would be perfect. In fact, if she were choosing a man for herself...

  But becoming a rancher wasn’t Sam’s destiny. Being a Fremont was Sam’s destiny and it was her job to see that he fulfilled it.

  With another sigh, she turned and went into the house.

  * * *

  FRANK RAISED HIS EYEBROW at Matt’s approach. “Young Sam, go into the shed and bring the motor toolbox here.”

  “What’s it look like?” Sam asked.

  “It looks like a toolbox. Go. Look.” Frank waved him toward the shed and Sam ran off.

  “And now, young Matthew, you do not woo a woman in the hot sun, even one who is dressed—” Frank stopped and kissed his fingers “—molto bella, such as she. If it were not for my leg and my lost youth...” He chuckled. “I would demonstrate. As it is, you must listen. Bring her outside at night. Show her the stars.”

  “She’s from Wyoming. She’s seen stars.”

  “Who said I was talking about stars in the sky, eh?”

  Matt picked up the tractor engine out of the back of the truck and carried it over to the heap they were trying to salvage. “Frank, you’re going to have to drop all this wooing talk. You’re embarrassing Jessica.”

  He gave a huge sigh. “She is there for the taking.”

  Matt gave him a look. “She’s also there for the leaving.”

  “She looks at you.”

  Did she? He glanced toward the house, but Jessica had gone inside. “She’s only watching her son.”

  “Matthew—”

  “I mean it, Frank.” He set the engine down on the bench beside the tractor. “She’s leaving next week.”

  “And the problem with this would be...?”

  He’d miss her. She’d only been here a few days and he’d miss her. But he knew her memory would fade more easily if he didn’t have many memories in the first place. “Just knock it off.”

  If Sam hadn’t been dragging a metal box through the dirt toward them just then, Matt figured Frank would have continued talking.

  “You are making a big mistake, but...” Frank held up both hands.

  “Then I’ll make a
mistake. Sam, can you hand me a five-eighths-inch wrench out of that box?”

  * * *

  JESSICA STARTED A LOAD of Sam’s grubbiest clothes—pretty much anything he’d worn since they’d arrived at Winter Ranch—and forced herself to check her E-mail.

  Each day, she’d sent a short note to Rachel, letting her know they were all right. If their parting hadn’t been so strained, she would have called, but she didn’t want to give Rachel the opportunity to hang up on her.

  Instead Rachel was ignoring her E-mail. Jessica didn’t know whether she was reading it or not. Still, she kept checking in with her mother-in-law.

  No response today, either. Well, her conscience was clear. Sort of.

  She’d done the right thing. She knew she had. Swiveling around in the leather chair, she looked out the window and watched Sam, Frank and Matt bending over a tractor that looked like it belonged in a museum.

  As she watched, Matt pointed and Sam reached inside and either tightened or loosened something with a wrench.

  This was great for him. She’d done the right thing.

  After checking in with her crew manager and answering the rest of her mail, Jessica got another load of laundry ready.

  Once the machine stopped, she took the cloth bag of clothespins and the heavy basket of wet clothes and went out back where the clothesline stretched between two poles.

  This was a lot different from using the tiny travel clothesline and cute plastic pins in a hotel bathroom. This was serious, time-consuming laundry hanging.

  Good exercise, though.

  Feeling pleased when she’d managed to get Sam’s jeans to stay on the line, Jessica went back for her own laundry. She wasn’t eager to hang up her underwear so everyone could see, but the clothesline was behind the kitchen and there really wasn’t any room in the bathroom. As hot as it was, the flimsy lace should dry in minutes.

  She heard laughter as she pushed the back door open with her hip. Walking around the side of the house, she stopped short when she saw Matt and Sam cleaning themselves off by the water spigot. Matt was squirting Sam, who was squealing in delight.