The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  “Right,” she said with a nod for emphasis.

  “Right,” he murmured to her lips. “But we can still be friends, isn’t that how it goes?”

  She wondered absently if there were actual bluebirds chirping around her head or if that buzzy feeling was just the pheromones rolling off Hot Prince Luca. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “Girl, you are tough,” he said. “Well, you still owe me a look at that spring, remember?”

  “What is it with that spring?”

  Luca shifted closer. His head was next to hers, as if he intended to whisper in her ear, and if he turned even slightly, his lips would brush her temple. “When it stops raining, I’ll show you.”

  She turned a fraction of an inch, so that there was nothing but a breath between her lips and his cheek. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the rain is coming down pretty hard.”

  “There are plenty of ways to wait out a good rain,” he suggested silkily.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, just as silkily. “I won’t fall for a line like that.” She wasn’t about to let him into her bedroom, even if she did really like sex, because she wanted it too much, too hard. Wanting something too much was the kiss of death for Ella Kendall.

  She could look back at her life, could see how the things she’d wanted the most had hurt her the most. Like the puppy her mother had given her. The same puppy Ella had watched a police officer put in the back of the animal control truck when her mother was arrested for possession and driving under the influence. Ella never saw the puppy again. Or how about Patience Montemayor, the young foster mother she’d had at house number three? Patience was beautiful and lively, and God, how Ella had loved her. She’d pretended Patience was her real mother, had told the kids at school Patience would adopt her.

  And then Patience and David had split up, and the foster kids were shuttled off to new homes, and Ella had never seen her again either.

  She had wanted those things too hard. It was her life—if she allowed herself to want something, to really want it, she was destined to lose it. And to want to be with Luca Prince as bad as she did felt awfully dangerous to the girl in the hallway still clutching her math book. She knew, even in this highly charged moment, that she ought to get out, but his breath was warm, and his lips brushed her skin, and a thousand little daggers of pleasure went skating across her cheek, and he asked, “Then what do you suggest we do while we wait?”

  “I have an idea,” she said.

  Luca’s smile was slow and sexy. “I’d love to hear it.”

  She dipped down and under his arm, and stepped away from the counter and him. She had an idea, all right. “Follow me,” she said in the sexiest voice she could summon on short notice.

  Chapter Twelve

  She had him shoveling pig manure.

  Sure, Luca had known the moment she’d opened the door and looked at him like he was a swamp creature that he wasn’t going to get lucky, and really, that was not his intent or his modus operandi. He liked the connection to be mutual before he seduced a woman into bed.

  But he damn sure didn’t think she’d ask him to shovel manure out of a garage that looked like it would collapse at any moment.

  He guessed he could be grateful she hadn’t kicked him out.

  The pig stood off to one side, short legs braced stoutly apart to hold up its girth, watching him. “What are you looking at?” Luca asked her.

  The pig’s snout worked, trying to smell him from a respectable distance.

  “Would it be so hard to take your business outside like the rest of the animal kingdom?” he asked.

  In response, the pig sat down in a pile of manure she’d left after eating the bucket of feed Luca had given her. Luca was reminded of a brown Labrador retriever they’d once had on the ranch. Daisy had eaten and eaten until she could hardly walk. Luca and Nick had tried everything, but Daisy had a screw loose somewhere and couldn’t stop, even when she was full and her belly as tight as a drum. She was fourteen years old when she’d wandered off the compound one day and never came back.

  Amazingly, Luca’s vision blurred thinking about Daisy. That was another of his little secrets—well, Nick and Hallie knew, because they were just as bad, but no one else—but Luca was ridiculously sentimental about his pets. Daisy had been gone twenty years, and he still teared up when he thought about her.

  He pushed a pile of manure out of the garage and glanced up at the house. He could see Ella through the kitchen window. She’d showered and dressed, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. This woman was undeniably beguiling. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—he’d dated starlets and models, some of whom had altered their faces to the ideal. Ella didn’t wear the spider lashes like so many women wore now, or a lot of makeup at all that he could detect. That was the thing—she was more alluring to him than any other woman because she looked fresh. Truly pretty. A completely unaffected, God-made pretty.

  How the hell had he missed her in high school?

  And why did he have to work so hard for her now?

  Working hard for the affections of the opposite sex was not a landscape he’d explored before. Of course, there had been plenty of women along the way that hadn’t been into him, but he hadn’t been into them either, and therein lay the rub. With Ella, he felt like he was struggling to pass a test. To read the words right. To see what was right in front of him and failing miserably. But he wasn’t running from the challenge anymore. Just like he was tackling the challenge of reading, he was going to tackle Ella. Unless she told him to take a hike, he was going to dig deeper into his bag of tricks.

  A sudden shaft of sunlight skirted across the muddy yard. The rain was ending, and it looked like it would be a gorgeous spring day, hopefully with the sort of brilliance that brought artists to their canvases and cowboys to the outdoors.

  The dealership flitted across his thoughts. He’d told Victor that he’d be in today, He hadn’t been to the office in weeks. The people there could have robbed him blind by now, and he wouldn’t know it. He knew he should go in, if not for all the obvious reasons, then at least for Uncle Chet, who really had tried to do Luca a solid with that business. But Luca stacked his hands on top of the shovel and through that grimy kitchen window, he watched Ella doing whatever she was doing, and he was powerless. His desire to be here, with her, on this rundown little ranch, shoveling pig manure, was much more powerful than his desire to do the right thing and go to work.

  He could work here, if she’d let him. Maybe not shoveling manure—he wasn’t crazy—but he could patch her roof. He could fix her fence in the places the posts had fallen over. It looked to him like there was a very long list of things he could do here to be useful instead of trying to read things about electric cars.

  The dog suddenly appeared from around the corner of the garage and trotted over to say hello. “Hey, buddy,” Luca said absently.

  The dog began to prance.

  Luca looked at the wiggling ball of fur. “Are you a buddy?” he asked, and the dog’s wiggling turned frantic. “Someone’s called you that along the way, huh?” he asked, and went down on one knee to scratch the dog’s ears. “Were you someone’s buddy?” The dog rolled onto his back, presenting his belly. Luca laughed. “Let’s make that your name, what do you say, Buddy?” he asked, and the dog leapt up into conniptions of joy. “We’ll just tell the lady of the—”

  He didn’t finish his thought because he was bowled over by the pig, who also wanted love as long as he was handing it out. “You, too?” Luca asked, and scratched her rump before hopping to his feet and brushing off his knees. “Go on now, the both of you. I’ve got to get Ella to like me as much as you do.”

  He put the shovel away and walked out of the garage. The rain had turned to drizzle as the sun pushed through the clouds, and droplets of rain left clinging to the trees glistene
d like tiny crystals.

  He walked up the back steps of the porch and sat down to remove his boots. He had one off when he heard the screen door open and close behind him. He removed his second boot, and in the next moment, Ella sat down next to him. She handed him a paper plate that held a ham sandwich on two thick slabs of bread, some chips, and a pickle.

  “For me?”

  “For you. I honestly didn’t think you’d do it,” she said with a smile. “You’re easier than I thought.”

  He grinned at her. “Ye of little faith,” he said, and picked up one half of the sandwich. “There’s not much you can throw at me that I won’t take on.”

  She smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Braggart.”

  “Honest,” he said, through a mouthful of sandwich. And hopeful. He was very hopeful.

  “Show-off,” she said, still smiling.

  “Gifted,” he said with a wink.

  Ella laughed.

  Luca knew better than to read much into it, but when a woman made a man a sandwich and sat next to him teasing him while he ate it, some doors were cracking open. “Thanks,” he said, holding up the sandwich.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, and glanced away, as if she were afraid she might smile too much in his direction. Smile at me at least a little.

  “The sun is out,” he said. “Want to see the spring?”

  “I’ve seen it, and besides, don’t you have a job?”

  “Yes. But I’m the boss, and you haven’t seen the spring the way I see it. What about you, are you working today?”

  She shook her head.

  “Perfect. Then you have the time.”

  “Just because I’m not scheduled today doesn’t mean I have the time,” she said. “I’ve got errands to run, laundry to get to, a kitchen faucet that I need to YouTube—”

  “Need to what?”

  She waved her hand. “I have a lot to do. I don’t have time for strolls through the park and picnics.”

  “I didn’t say one word about a picnic,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, Ella. Humor me.”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He nudged her again. Ella sighed and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe Luca Prince is in my tiny little house, pretending he has nothing better to do than see a spring.”

  “Why can’t you believe it?” Luca asked with all sincerity.

  She rolled her lovely blue eyes at him. “You know why.”

  “No, I really don’t,” he insisted. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m knocking on your door, girl.”

  She smiled prettily and studied him for a long moment. “Okay. If I go see the spring, will you quit asking about it?”

  “Probably not,” he said.

  She laughed. “I like your honesty. I’ll get my boots and we’ll go see that damn spring.”

  “Thank you!” he said, and spread his arms wide. “I feel like I just won something here.”

  She smiled and stood up. “Don’t get cocky.” She disappeared into the house.

  When she returned, she was wearing rubber farm boots and shorts, and a safari-type sun hat, and had draped a woven bag across her body, as if she was going to collect some herb specimens. He glanced at the bag, confused.

  “Water,” she said, and pulled out a bottle to show him. “And a phone, in case we get lost.”

  “We’re not going to get lost,” he assured her. “I know this land like the back of my hand.”

  “You can never be too safe.”

  “I think maybe you can,” he said.

  Ella picked up a thick walking stick that was leaning against the porch. When Luca looked at the stick, she said, “Coyotes.”

  He debated telling her that a coyote wasn’t going to attack her unless it was rabid, and if it did, he was fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to hold it off with a stick. He decided it was better not to chance spooking her—he was too happy she was going with him.

  So they began the trek to the spring, walking along an old two-track road, each of them in their own track. The prairie grass between them had grown up so tall that it brushed against their thighs. The road was lined with wildflowers that seemed to have exploded overnight. Bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, red poppies, and pink evening primrose. The pastures, long overgrazed and left fallow, were seas of yellow Blackfoot daisies and rain lilies. Luca thought there was nothing more beautiful than a Texas spring, even though the wildflowers were not as thick as they had been in years past due to long droughts. The land was too depleted and starved to produce a good crop.

  The dog trotted ahead of them, nose to the ground, disappearing into the weeds and reappearing on the other side, then coming back again. “I think I have a name for your dog,” Luca said.

  “Oh yeah?” Ella asked, peeking up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “What’s that?”

  “Buddy.”

  The dog stopped at once and whipped around, his tail wagging, looking eagerly at Luca.

  “Buddy?” Ella said. The dog bounced back to her, tail wagging. Ella gasped. “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Luca said. “Someone must have called him Buddy enough times that now he’s convinced it’s his name.”

  “Hey, Buddy!” she said, and the dog began to wiggle around at her feet. Ella laughed with delight. She was stunningly beautiful when she laughed. Happiness shone in her eyes and glowed in her skin. Her happiness made him happy, made him feel soft. It also made him desperately want to make her laugh.

  They walked on, reaching an old fork in the road. Luca pointed out that these old roads were originally the paths of Indians and Spaniards, and showed her the natural trail markers that would later guide people traveling west to distant forts with wagons full of supplies. He showed her switchgrass and Indiangrass, which could look alike to an untrained eye. Ella didn’t seem bored by his talk—she asked questions and paused to examine everything he pointed out.

  They reached a well-worn animal trail that cut through the trees and went down a rocky incline. Luca started down that path.

  “Are you sure?” Ella asked.

  “I am.”

  She hesitated, then followed him into a thick underbrush. When the underbrush led into a copse of cedar, she paused again. “I don’t know,” she said. “This doesn’t look right.”

  “I’ve been over every inch of this land,” he said. “It’s a shortcut to the spring.” He offered his hand to her.

  She didn’t take it. “We can follow the road around, you know.”

  “If we go this way, you’ll see the spring from a better vantage point. You can see just how big it is.”

  She glanced uncertainly at the path before them.

  “Ella. Trust me,” he said, and took her hand.

  “That’s asking a lot,” she said, but gripped his hand as she picked her way down the path behind him.

  They emerged, as he knew they would, onto a limestone shelf above the natural spring. To one side of the spring was a stand of pin oaks, the growth of new leaves a brilliant light green against the older, darker leaves. Below them, about a four-foot drop, was the water. The spring wasn’t as large as it once had been, but at least the water was clear, a good sign that it hadn’t been contaminated or clogged. He went down onto his haunches to look around. Ella sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “It looks healthy,” he said. “No apparent contamination.”

  “Contamination!” Ella looked at him with surprise. “You sound less like a cowboy and more like a park ranger.”

  “I’m a little of both. Ecology and conserving the environment my thing.”

  “Your thing?” She laughed. “Are you a student? An ecologist?”

  “Not exactly.” He knew how he sounded when he said thi
ngs like that—God knew his family had accused him of being a bunny hugger more than once. “You see this spring? If it was properly cared for, it could revive an entire ecological system that has been lost because of poor range management and development.”

  Ella’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” She shifted around so she could see him better. “I never expected to hear the phrase ‘poor range management’ come out of your mouth. So please, do go on,” she said.

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to swim. Or tell me something that happened here in high school.”

  “I don’t remember much of high school. I’m serious about this. The water that comes up here is fed from an underground lake. It’s about sixty degrees year round. A little too cold for swimming today, but in August, you’ll appreciate this spring.”

  She looked down at the water.

  He was boring her. “I find it interesting, that’s all. Don’t feel like you have to listen to it. I am well aware of how boring it is to most.”

  “No, I want to hear about it,” she said. “This is new and different. I may regret it, but right now, I want to hear it.”

  Luca was so used to people making jokes about his interest that he didn’t quite know where to start. “Okay,” he said. “But remember—you asked.”

  “I’m all ears,” she agreed.

  So Luca told her. About his love of the land. How his family had used it and abused it, and he’d gotten interested in the idea of conservation and rebuilding ecosystems after a particularly bad drought, when they’d had to ship their cattle north and wildlife had died and the land had not bounced back from that like it once had. He told her how hard it was to earn a living from cattle today, when the price per head was down but the cost of the land was up, along with property taxes and maintenance. How ranchers were diversifying, turning land into hunting and recreation leases, putting oil wells on the land and selling mineral rights. How it wasn’t what it used to be, and the Princes, like a lot of ranchers, had tried it all and had depleted the health of the land in some ways.