He’d forgotten how downright pretty Jessi Wallace was. Or maybe she’d gotten even prettier in those years he’d been so embroiled in competition he’d never taken time to notice a nice girl like her. He’d contented himself with a few one-night stands with women like Cat Holt.
As quietly as he could, he crossed the room, placed his lantern on the mantel beside hers, and extinguished it. No sense having two burning. Best to conserve what oil they had. No telling how long this outage could last.
He slumped into a shabby wing chair and spread the jacket over his chest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept sitting up with a similar excuse for bedcovers.
But, he thought, as he tried to adjust himself into a position of comfort, it was the first time since the accident. Man, he was uncomfortable. Fox, curled up on the hearth rug, looked more comfortable. Well, it would only be for one night, two at most. He’d get rid of her by Thursday, tops. He closed his eyes.
What in hell…?
As a soft rumble reached him, he suppressed a grin. Nothing like snoring to kill amorous thoughts.
****
He woke as the first rays of a fine autumn morning peeked through the tattered curtains of the bay window. The storm had apparently blown itself out, leaving behind a sun-drenched day.
“Jesus.” The curse was a mutter as he moved. Aches in what seemed like every bone in his body assaulted him.
Across the room Jessi moved and muttered but didn’t awaken.
Looking over at her, the events of the previous evening gushed back, and he grimaced. He loved his mother, but sometimes the woman could come close to driving him around the bend…like now, sending a friend’s daughter to fix up his life.
Struggling to be quiet and not wake her, he managed to heave himself out of the chair and make his way from the room and down the hall to the bathroom, Fox at his heels.
A shower. I need a shower. Just because I don’t want the woman here is no reason I should disgust her with body odor.
Inside the bathroom, he snapped the light switch and was relieved to see the power had come back on. Now if he could just shower without slipping and falling. He had no desire to repeat past failures.
****
Jessi woke to the smell of coffee. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d come to be in this ragtag room. Then, as reality returned, she closed her eyes again.
Damn!
Something warm and wet lapped at the hand she’d left hanging over the edge of the couch. Glancing down, she saw the little red dog Fox looking up her, eyes bright, white-tipped tail wagging.
“Well, good morning, Miss Fox.” She found she could smile at the perky little creature. “Ready to be friends this morning? Maybe it was only the storm that made you stand-offish last night.” She swung her feet to the floor and sat up. The robe gaped open, and she hastened to pull it shut and retie the belt.
“I smell coffee, Fox.” She stood and stretched. “A good, strong cup is just what I need.” She glanced toward the bay window flooded with sunlight. “Looks like it could be a much better day than yesterday. One can but hope. But first things first.”
She felt in the robe’s pocket and found her cell. Would it work after the drenching it had gotten the previous night? She picked it up and tiptoed into the bathroom. Once she’d closed the door, she punched in her home phone number. A sigh of relief slipped from her lips when it began to ring.
“Jessi?” Her mother answered immediately, her tone a mix of anxiety and hope.
“Yes, Mom. Good morning.”
“Are you okay, honey? We’ve been getting awful TV reports about the tail of a hurricane lashing your area.” She stopped, then continued, “You are in New Brunswick, at the Turner Farm, right?”
“Yes, Mom. I made it. I couldn’t call you last night. We lost service and power because of the storm.” She snapped the light switch. “But the electricity is back on now and, from the sunshine coming in the parlor window, I’d say we’re headed into a lovely day.”
“Thank God!”
“Mom, I didn’t check the time before I phoned, but I’m guessing it’s shortly after 4:00 a.m. in Alberta and you don’t sound as if I woke you.”
“It is. I couldn’t sleep, worrying about you. Now, I think, as soon as your dad and I finish up with the barn work I’ll take a nap.”
“Good. But first, will you do me a favor?”
“Of course, if I can.”
“Will you phone Laura and tell her both Ross and I are okay? I know she’ll be wondering, but I don’t want to risk Ross overhearing my calling her. He’s already convinced we’re in some sort of deep conspiracy against him.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“No. Just take good care of my horses, Maisy in particular.”
“Definitely. And, Jessi, if you think there’s anything in the situation you can’t handle, come right back home.”
“Mom, this is Ross we’re talking about. We’ve known him since he was a kid. He’s a good man, just right now a bit confused and angry…at himself.”
“Ross is a good man.” Joan Wallace’s words eased out, then became firm again. “Jessi, nevertheless, take care.”
“I will. Love you. Give my best to Dad. See you soon.”
“Love you, too.”
She snugged the robe more securely about her waist, shoved the cell into its pocket, and left the bathroom.
****
“What are you wearing?” His words belched out as she stepped into the kitchen, a bundle under one arm.
“I would have thought you’d recognize your own shirt.” The bundle still clutched close, she pivoted to give him a full view of the plaid flannel shirt buttoned up the front and hanging to just above her knees. “I found it in a closet by the front door. The robe wouldn’t stay shut.”
“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” Seated at the table, coffee mug in hand, he scowled as she headed for the back door.
“Hopefully to find a clothes line. I need to dry my social worker suit and my underwear.” She held up the roll of clothing she carried.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered as the door slammed behind her and he fought to dismiss the image of long, slender legs below that faded old shirt.
I have to get rid of her…fast.
“Found it.” She came back inside and grinned at him. “Pants, jacket, and unmentionables now fluttering in the breeze. How about some breakfast? My turn to fix food.”
At the refrigerator she pulled open the door and frowned. “Not much choice. Steak, eggs, and a whole bunch of beer. Oh, well, I’m good at fixing a cowboy breakfast. Don’t look so grumpy. Food in your belly will do wonders to knock that storm cloud off your face. Thank goodness the electricity has come on. I’m not partial to working over a woodstove.”
****
“Better?” She stood and began to clear the table.
“Not bad.” The admission came out reluctantly.
“I’d be willing to bet you haven’t eaten breakfast since you arrived here,” she said, running water into the sink.
“If I admit to it, will you be including that fact in your report to my mother?”
“Stop it, Ross. Just stop it!” She rounded on him. “You have a mother who sincerely cares about you, who loves you enough to coerce me into coming across a continent to see to you!”
“Coerce?”
The moment the word had flown from her mouth, Jessi regretted it. He’d simply annoyed her so much…
“Sorry, bad word choice.” She returned to the table to gather up the remainder of their breakfast dishes. “Your mother just thought it would be a good idea if I got away for a while. By the way…” She paused behind his chair and sniffed. “Do I detect the scent of some refreshing masculine soap product? Don’t tell me you took a shower in honor of my presence.”
Casting a cat-in-the-cream smirk over her shoulder, she sauntered back to the sink.
“Argh!”
“Okay, okay.”
“Better. Now”—she ran water over the dishes—“while these are soaking, I’d like to go and get my Jeep. Comfortable as this outfit is, I think I should be wearing something a tad more suitable if we have callers.”
“We won’t have callers.” He heaved himself out of the chair and adjusted the cane in his hand. “But come on. Let’s get to it.”
“Dressed like this? You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t dare bend over, and I doubt we’ll get my vehicle freed from that tree without a bit of that kind of movement. I saw jeans in that same closet. Wait until I pull on a pair.”
Shortly she was back, wearing his jeans rolled up at the bottoms and held in place by the belt from the bathrobe she’d worn the previous night. The shirt tail she’d tied into a knot at her middle. On her feet were the dress flats she’d worn the previous day.
“Good God!” he muttered.
“I had to improvise, given the selection.” She cocked her head to one side and grinned. “I may even start a new fashion trend…like shabby chic or some such.”
“Come on, let’s get going.” He headed for the door, Fox at his heels.
“Oh, my!” Once outside, Jessi had her first opportunity to take in her surroundings in the clear light of day.
“What?” He paused to look back at her.
“This place…it’s absolutely lovely.” She gazed across the wide, unmown lawn to the beach and bay beyond. A golden-sanded shore accentuated by driftwood and bright green marsh grass ended at the dark waters of Chaleur Bay glistening in the sunlight. Far out across the water a small sailboat was catching the slight breeze to move casually along its way. Above, in a clear blue sky, herring gulls swooped and cried out their crazy laughter. Behind the ramshackle house, barn and outbuildings, meadows, shorn of their crop of hay, stretched back until they were met by a verdant forest of spruce and pine.
“You cut the hay?” she asked, surprise in her tone.
“One of the locals apparently has a deal with my father to keep it mowed. Done before I got here.”
“That was convenient.” She drew a deep breath and smiled. “Gorgeous smell.”
“Incurably cheerful, aren’t you?” He headed for a red king cab 4x4, gleaming with chrome, parked near the back steps.
“I recall you once had your own happy streak.” She followed and paused as he opened the rear door. “And a pretty good sense of humor.”
“Yeah, well, both were removed when the doctors were cutting up my leg and hip. Come on, Fox.”
The little dog leaped inside. Ross went to the driver’s door, opened it, and levered himself into the seat.
“Come on, come on,” he snapped when she paused. “You don’t have to watch to make sure I can get into my own truck.”
“Okay, okay.” She strode around to the passenger side. “That chip on your shoulder has got to be log-sized.”
He muttered something she guessed she was better off not understanding as he put on a pair of Foster Grants that had been on the dash, shifted into drive, and headed the truck down the trail.
Bumping along the rutted track in his fancy truck, Jessi glanced furtively over at him. Somewhere, beneath the façade of belligerent, defiant human being, must remain fragments of the good-natured, good ol’ boy Ross Turner had once been. It was her job to piece them back together.
Physically the man, except for the limp, was pretty much as she remembered…only maybe more so…the sunlight flashing through the windshield to highlight the blue-black sheen of his tangled dark curls, the faded T-shirt stretching across broad, muscular shoulders, the fit of worn jeans over his thighs…never mind those killer blue eyes now hidden behind the cool sunglasses.
She braked her thoughts to a skidding halt. Don’t get crazy, girl. Remember who he is and why you’re here. The last thing you need in your life right now is another freewheeling cowboy…especially one given to dark moods.
When they reached the turn where the pine lay blocking the road, her Jeep still nosed into it like some strange, metallic, foraging creature, Ross stopped his truck and got out. Jessi followed as he hobbled toward the tree’s stump at the left of the road.
“Freshly felled,” he muttered, pausing to look it over. “The wind, most likely. I knew this tree was getting dangerous. It should have been taken down weeks ago.”
“You could have hired someone to do it,” she suggested, tightening the bathrobe belt holding up his too-large jeans.
“Yeah, right! Admit to the locals I can’t even take care of my own property? I think not!”
“Okay, okay. Let’s just get on with it.” She threw up her hands.
“I’ll back my vehicle into towing position. You tell me when I’m close enough to hook on.”
“Fine.”
She watched as he flung his cane into his truck and climbed in after it. He backed toward the barricade.
“A little more. Okay. Whoa! Perfect. Hold it.” As she called out the directions, Jessi had a flashback to years earlier when she’d given similar directions to Ross as he’d been backing a horse trailer up to a corral at his parents’ ranch. They’d been heading for a gymkhana and a day full of horse-based fun and games. It seemed so long ago, and with an entirely different man.
“Here, let me do that.” Jessi hastened back to where he was trying to lever himself down on one knee to attach a tow rope around the thickest branches just above the butt.
“No, damn it, I will!” he snapped, then slipped on the wet road and fell.
Jessi made a move to help before stifling the impulse. She stood back as he cursed and struggled to regain control of his legs. When he got to his feet, he paused, breathing hard, leaning against the truck, his jeans mud-soaked from knees to ankles, his hands scratched and dirty.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to pull me up by the shirt, dust me off, and offer to kiss where it hurts,” he growled, glowering over at her.
“No way.” Jessi decided it was time tough love (or what she preferred to call acute therapy) kicked in. “Let’s get on with it.”
Leaving him to struggle with the tow rope, she strode off to check on her Jeep.
She climbed in, pulled the key from her pocket, and inserted it into the ignition. The result was a low groaning sound, then nothing. She tried again. A shorter groan. The third time nothing.
Ross came to the driver’s door. He put his hand on the roof above it and frowned down at her. “Let me try.”
Jessi looked up at him. A sarcastic remark about men thinking they had a magic touch when it came to starting vehicles hovered. She stifled it. No need to build further animosity between them.
“Okay, sure.” She got out and let him get behind the wheel.
He turned the key. This time the jeep issued something that sounded like a death rattle before it gave up the ghost.
“Major problem.” He removed the key, swung out, and handed it to her. “I have CAA. I’ll call for a tow truck. They’ll take it back to the lot. It’s an insured rental?”
“Yes.” The word came out with the sigh she heaved. She hated the idea of no longer having her own vehicle, but the Jeep was useless as it was. If she wanted to go anywhere, which included leaving, she would have to depend on borrowing Ross’s truck.
Ross pulled out his cell and made the call.
“Nothing to do now but get my stuff and go back to the farmhouse.” She stared at the disabled vehicle.
“You make it sound as if you’re headed for the Temple of Doom.” A corner of his mouth twitched.
“I probably would be more welcome there.” She pulled open the rear door and reached into the back for her suitcase.
Chapter Five
“I’m heading into town,” he said two hours later. “I’m taking Fox with me.”
He’d come into the kitchen in another pair of jeans and a T-shirt, neither of which bore
evidence of recent laundering. Wearing her own jeans and shirt, she turned from where she was finishing up the breakfast dishes at the sink.
“Will you pick up some bread, milk, butter…?”
The back door slammed on her words.
She paused, then shrugged and returned to her work. Let him be rude and annoying. He couldn’t dent her determination. Her thoughts went back to earlier that morning on the road to the farm.
Although it had discomforted her to watch him struggle, she’d let him do the major work of removing the pine from the road. It had taken over an hour, and by the time they’d finished a tow truck from CAA had arrived to pull the damaged Jeep back to the rental depot in Carleton.
On a positive note, she thought she caught a small sense of satisfaction in Ross’s demeanor when they’d succeeded in freeing the Jeep before help arrived. Maybe a beginning? They’d returned to the farmhouse in Ross’s mud-spattered truck, equally dirty themselves.
“Anyone home?” The question, in a woman’s voice calling somewhere outside, startled her. A visitor? Here?
She strode through the house to the front door, pushed it open, and walked out into the sunshine to see a rider coming up from the beach. The sight of her mount made Jessi do a quick intake of breath. Charcoal gray with a silver mane and tail, it was one of the prettiest equines she’d ever seen. Her rider was leading a beautiful snow white horse, saddled and rider ready.
“Good morning.” Her visitor stopped in the front yard and smiled at her. “I’m Shelby Brooks.”
“Dr. Shelby Masters?” Jessi remembered Laura telling her about the vet who, together with her husband, owned a horse farm and riding instruction place nearby.
“That’s my working title.” She swung to the ground. “In everyday life, I’m Shelby Brooks, married to Jake Brooks. Jessi Wallace, I presume?”
Leading the horses, she walked forward, hand extended, welcoming smile lighting up a face Jessi thought entirely beautiful. Her hair, caught up in a ponytail, stuck out through the back of the baseball cap she wore. In jeans and a light blue T-shirt, the vet was one striking woman.
Cowboy Confessions Page 5
