Glad she’s married—Now where did that come from? As if I cared who lives next door to Ross or how downright beautiful she is.
“Nice to meet you, Doctor.” Jessi smiled in return.
“Laura Turner called and suggested you might be missing your horses. I brought Silver along in case you have time for a little canter.” She indicated the big albino. “In spite of his somewhat daunting size, I can assure you he’s well trained and a pleasure to ride.”
“I’d love to.” Jessi reached to take the reins Shelby held out to her, then stopped. “Do you mind waiting a minute until I put on boots and a hat?”
“Not a bit.”
Jessie hurried inside. Shortly, she was back, riding boots and baseball cap in place.
“I miss my Stetson,” she said pulling her hair, which she’d hastily scraped into a ponytail, through the break at the back. “But trying to carry it on the plane would have been a major nuisance. Wearing it wasn’t an option unless I wanted to become the center of attention everywhere east of the Manitoba-Ontario border.”
“Stetsons aren’t common around here,” her companion agreed. “But I admit a fondness for them. My husband has a few.”
“He’s from western Canada?”
“No.”
The single-word reply brooked no further conversation on the subject of Stetsons.
“I really should lock up, but I don’t have a key.” Jessi put her curiosity regarding the monosyllabic response on hold and hesitated as she rubbed the gelding’s nose. “Ross has gone to town.”
“Not to be unkind”—Shelby looked around, her gaze ending on the dilapidated house—“but I don’t think this place would be a prime target for home invaders.”
“You’re right.” Jessi took the reins. “There is a new refrigerator full of beer, but that’s about it.” She moved to Silver’s left side and stuck her foot into the stirrup.
“Thanks so much, Shelby. This is just what I need.”
“We’ll take a lope along the beach for a bit, then turn into the woods.” The vet remounted.
“Sounds like a perfect plan.” They swung their mounts about and cantered off down the beach into the sunshine and salt-tinged air. Jessi’s spirits rose as they always did when she was aboard a fine horse.
Forget about one cranky former bull rider. Forget about that ruin of a farmhouse. Just enjoy this terrific ride along this beautiful stretch of beach.
When they’d gone about a half mile, Shelby reined to a halt and indicated a trail leading into the trees away from the shore.
“Nice place for a leisurely walk or trot,” she said. “But too many exposed roots for a safe canter. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure.” They trotted their horses into the lane, then slowed to walk them side by side.
“Mrs. Turner said you’re here to help her son get over his injuries.” Shelby Brooks launched the conversation.
“Try to help.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know if Laura Turner told you, I’m no psychologist or social worker. I deal exclusively with injured and traumatized horses. Or at least I did until now.”
“Then if you don’t mind my asking, why did you agree to come here, to travel across the continent for a case the likes of which you’ve never previously attempted?”
“Ross’s family helped my family out big time a few years back, when my father got injured. I owe them.”
“Aha. A debt of honor.”
“You might say that.”
“When Mrs. Turner first contacted me and said you’d be coming, I thought there was something romantic between you and her son. She sort of hinted at it.”
“Laura wouldn’t object if Ross and I got involved. You know, a pair of ranchers’ kids teaming up. But I can assure you, there’s nothing like that…and never will be.”
“You sound a tad bitter.” They were walking their horses slowly along the trail dappled with sunlight and shadows, cool and comfortable.
“I don’t mind explaining.” Jessi patted her horse’s thick, arched neck, and he blew his thanks. “I was engaged to a saddle bronc rider. Last spring, the day of Ross’s accident, I caught him with a female client of mine, and—let’s just say they were doing more than holding hands.”
“Miserable, isn’t it?”
“You sound as if you speak from experience.” Surprised, Jessi turned to face her new acquaintance.
“Sadly, yes. A few years back I caught my then-fiancé in my house in the arms of a naked soap opera star who spent a lot of time at her father’s place just beyond my farm.”
“Oh, Shelby, I’m sorry. What did you do?”
“It was winter, the first serious snowfall of the year, in fact. I threw her out, stark naked, and invited him to follow. When I discovered they’d been so bold as to make love in my bed, I burned it.” She chuckled. “I can see the humor in it now, but back then it stung like getting a tree branch across the face on a frosty morning. And”—she drew a deep breath—“it turned out all for the best. That Christmas I married Jake. Maybe that’s how it will be with you. Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing between you and Ross Turner?”
“Nothing. We sort of grew up together, even though Ross is a few years older and lived a bunch of miles away. Anyhow, he’s so belligerent right now, I’m sure romance is the furthest thing from his mind. His injury is dominating everything.”
“That’s what it was like with Jake after he was involved in a car accident.” The trail had emerged into a meadow, and Shelby halted to look over at her companion. “He got all tied up in knots and was ready to go back to work in Toronto.”
“But he didn’t. Why not?”
“Because I asked him to marry me.” She grinned. “I can tell you, that took the wind out his sails.”
“I take it he agreed.”
“After a bit of a pause and his parents’ blessing, yes.”
“Well, that’s one cure I won’t be trying.” Jessi followed Shelby as she turned her mount back down the trail.
“Careful, Jessi. I thought the same way, once upon a time.”
****
e Looking after Ross Turner was turning out to be as much a housekeeping job as a caregiving position. Jessi gazed around the dirty, cluttered kitchen and sighed. She’d enjoyed the ride with Shelby, but now she had to face the reality of her situation and get down to work.
She hadn’t had an opportunity to explore the upper story of the house. Maybe, in spite of Ross’s dire warnings about falling plaster, she could make a couple of bedrooms sufficiently safe and decent for them to use. That old couch in the parlor had more lumps and bumps than a stretch of bad road, and Ross couldn’t have enjoyed sleeping in that chair.
She went into the front foyer and gazed up the staircase that even on this sunny day was dark and shadowy. Threadbare carpeting ran up the center of dusty steps to a curve near the top. It looked like part of one of the haunted houses she’d seen in horror movies. What lay beyond that twist at the top?
Come on, Jessi Wallace. You’ve spent nights out on the range listening to coyotes howl. This is just an old farmhouse…dilapidated and dirty, nothing more.
Squaring her shoulders, she headed up the steps, rounded the turn near the stairway’s zenith, and was confronted with a long, dark corridor with several closed doors along its length.
Bats. This is the point in a movie where a herd—or is it a flock?—of bats flutter out into a person’s face.
None did. With a feeling of relief, she started down the hallway. She opened one door after another, to find bedrooms in such a state of neglect she abandoned any hope of their sleeping up there. The beds had been stripped of sheets, blankets, and pillows. All that was left were ragged mattresses that looked as if any number of mice had taken up residence. Shreds of sun-rotted curtains hung at the windows. Each room had an old dresser and a washstand with pitcher and ewer, a chamberpot tucked underneath giving testament that there’d been no indoor bathroom before Ross’s arrival
. Furthermore, true to Ross’s description, chunks of fallen ceiling plaster were scattered at indiscriminate intervals, some little more than dust, others big enough to cause a concussion.
No, definitely no hope of human habitation up here. Why did I allow myself to be talked into coming to this miserable old house?
Her cell rang.
“Jessi, it’s Laura. Is Ross there?”
“He went into Carleton.” She started back downstairs.
“Good. It’s you I want to talk to…alone. How is he doing? Jessi, I’m counting on your usual honesty.”
“He’s still using his cane.” She paused, trying to decide how best to proceed.
“But mentally, emotionally?”
“A little grumpy, careless about his appearance.” She tried to tell the truth without being alarming. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I know you can.” Laura Turner sounded relieved. “But tell me he hasn’t let himself go so badly he’s a complete mess. I wouldn’t want to think he’s made himself absolutely unattractive.”
“Laura, stop it. After Clint Harrison, the handsomest, most charismatic cowboy in the world wouldn’t interest me.”
“You’re fortunate to be rid of that creature.” The woman’s tone turned crisp and brooked no denial. “Just like Ross is much better off without Catherine…Cat Holt. If that woman shows up anywhere near him, I’m personally deputizing you to get rid of her any way you see fit. She’s pure poison.”
“That’s a big order.”
“Okay, okay. But don’t write Ross off just yet. He’s a good man.”
“Laura, nothing is going to happen between your son and me. I’m strictly here in the capacity of observer and caregiver…if he’ll allow me to become the latter.”
“Very well. I’ll leave it for the moment. Now, tell me about your living conditions. Ross wouldn’t elaborate.”
“Well…” Jessi let her gaze roam around the shabby old house and decided to tell the truth.
Chapter Six
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Ross adjusted his aching left leg and let the irritation of his mother’s sending Jessi Wallace to look after him surface full force as he drove toward Carleton. He knew she meant well, was concerned about him, but sending Jessi Wallace, who worked with traumatized horses? Hell and damnation!
Top it off with the fact that he’d been celibate since over a month before his accident… Not by any major plan but simply because he’d been too involved in training and practice rides to have time to hook up with a lady. Well, if he was being totally honest, there was more to it. In spite of the reputation a lot of rodeo cowboys had for love ’em and leave ’em, he didn’t fall easily into bed with one woman after another. Over the years he’d learned pure animal sex wasn’t for him. He needed more than that. He wanted to like any woman he paired up with, genuinely like her.
Given that fact, it wasn’t surprising none of his romances on the rodeo circuit had lasted long. Women who followed the shows and were willing to take a chance on a performer through a one-night stand weren’t the type that attracted him. Women like Cat Holt. Furthermore, he wasn’t about to buy a ring or make any kind of long-term commitment to anyone…not yet, maybe never. He’d never met a woman who gave him the urge to do either.
His thoughts went back to Jessi Wallace. A really nice girl who knew her way around animals, horses in particular. And pretty as the proverbial picture, with her golden-brown hair and green eyes that seemed to be able to peer right down into his thoughts.
Watch it, buddy. Don’t start having crazy fantasies about her.
It was bad enough his mother had sent her to doctor him like a lame horse, but now she was living under his roof, sleeping in the same room. He’d have to keep himself on a short rein. If he messed up with her, he had no doubt he’d find Laura Turner on his doorstep with a shotgun in one hand and a bridal veil in the other.
A grin quirked one corner of his mouth.
Yeah, Mom, you’d love to get me married off to Jessi Wallace, wouldn’t you? Someone to settle me down, get me to start helping Chase around the place. Well, put that thought on hold. It won’t be happening. Right now I have to concentrate on getting my would-be caregiver on a flight back to Calgary.
He knew there’d be no way a lady as strong and stubborn as Jess would simply acquiesce to going home. He sucked in a deep breath and centered his mind on how to go about it.
First, a trip to the barber. Then a bit of grocery shopping, followed by a visit to a florist and the liquor store. Mom always said you could get more flies with honey than vinegar. Hope that doctor didn’t remove any ability I once had to charm a lady, when he operated on my leg. I’ll need every bit I can muster, if I’m going to finesse Miss Jessi Wallace.
He glanced at Fox sitting alertly in the passenger seat. Wonder if there’s a dog groomer in Carleton? My little gal could do with a bit of sprucing up, too.
****
“I bought groceries…” Ross’s voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen, a plastic bag in his free hand, and stopped dead in his tracks. Fox darted inside ahead of his master.
Jessi turned from wiping down a countertop. And froze.
Clean-shaven and with a spanking new haircut, Ross the Uncouth had been transformed into Ross the Rodeo Rock Star. His T-shirt and jeans looked brand new, his boots polished.
“Well.” She finally found her voice. “It seems we’ve both been busy.”
“Yeah, really.” Leaning on his cane, he gazed over clean sinks, cleared countertops, and freshly swept floor.
“I hope I haven’t ruined the ambience.” She couldn’t resist the taunt. Two large bags of garbage leaned against the wall near the door.
“Ambience? What ambience? Early Canadian landfill?”
“Gave me something to do…after I went riding with your neighbor, Dr. Shelby Masters-Brooks.”
“Riding?” He dropped the grocery bag he’d been carrying onto the table and stared at her.
“She rode over from her farm. She brought a lovely white gelding all tacked up for me. We had a great canter up the beach, then a lovely walk through the woods. Shelby’s quite a lady. We had a nice chat.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Take that note of suspicion out of your voice. I didn’t reveal any of your deep, dark secrets…not that I know any. Hey…” She turned her attention to Fox. “Looks as if you had a makeover as well, little girl. You’re positively gleaming…golden red, I’d call your new look.” She knelt to hug the dog that sat in front of her, tail swishing over the floor.
“Yeah, well, there was a grooming place right next to the barber shop, so…”
“Well, she looks great.” Jessi stood and indicated the meat on a plate on the counter. “I defrosted a couple of the steaks for supper. Not a great deal of choice. Really, Ross, your larder is in bad shape.”
“I know.”
He turned and hobbled out to his truck. Jessi took the opportunity to grab a glass of cold water. The man, freed from all that hair and neglect, was a knockout, definitely something that would warm any woman’s blood…even hers.
“Will you get the door?” His voice brought her out of her daydreams, and she hurried over to open it. He came in, his free arm full of more plastic grocery bags.
“I’ve let my supplies dwindle,” he said, placing the bags on the kitchen table. “So I decided to stock up.”
“Do you need any help?” The words were out before she could catch her normal reaction.
“No, no.” He waved aside her offer and headed back outside.
****
Bread, milk, eggs, butter, and so much more…so much unexpected more. Jessi, unloading the grocery bags, found fresh vegetables, rolls, cheese, several bottles of salad dressing, and a sumptuous-looking carrot cake, individually packaged. The final bag contained a selection of gourmet dog food.
What is going on?
Jessi was putting lettuce into the refrigerator when she heard his ca
ne stump up the back steps again, then stop. Turning, she saw him standing in the doorway, a bouquet of red roses in his hand, a bottle of wine clutched under his arm. Fox stood beside him, bright and perky, tail wagging.
Oh, God, why did he have to clean up so well? And why does he have to look so romance-novel-cover handsome standing there with those roses and that adorable dog? And that grin…and those blue eyes.
“I’ve come a-callin’, Miss Jessi, ma’am.” He grinned.
“Really?” Warning bells were all-out clanging in her brain. What is he up to? Watch it, Jessi Wallace, watch it.
She cocked her head to one side. “I hope your intentions are honorable, young man, and not part of a plot to get rid of me.”
“Only the purest, I assure you, missy,” he replied, awkwardly levering the door open. “You see, I’m under sentence of having my favorite horse sold by my own dear mama if I stepped even the least out of line with you.” His voice softened seductively as he eased the dozen long stems into her arms. “For you, lady,” he said.
Blue gaze met green and held. A sensation like stepping into a tub full of perfectly warm bath water slid over her.
“Thank you.” No, no, no, not another rodeo cowboy! She caught herself up short. “I’ll put these in water.”
She headed for the sink. “Red roses are my favorite.”
“My mother may have mentioned it.” He swung himself about on his cane and went back outside.
Running water into a vase, she dampened her fingers and patted the cool wetness to her hot cheeks. She’d heard of magic moments, but this was ridiculous.
****
“Steaks are ready.” Ross opened the front door and stuck his head inside. He’d insisted on cooking them over the coals of a fire he’d built in a pit in front of the house.
“Terrific. I’m starving.” Jessi picked up a large bowlful of salad and joined him on the front porch, where she’d found an old wooden table just big enough for two people to share a meal.
As she placed the salad on the table, she saw he’d opened the wine and put the bottle in the center. Foil-wrapped potatoes he’d roasted in the fire pit were in a bowl beside it.
Cowboy Confessions Page 6
