“Good…” Her friend drew out the word as though she was confused. That would be because technically Jessa wasn’t supposed to come in on Sundays. Her friends were always on her about being a workaholic and making sure she took at least one day off during the week. So much so that Cassidy had volunteered to hang out on weekends for a very reasonable wage.
Before Cass could ask her why she’d come in, she got right down to business. “So how’s the pig?” The day before Cam had broken up with her, someone had called to report a potbellied pig that was seen wandering around the park. Jessa had found the sweet thing down by the river, and she didn’t look healthy. Too thin and very lethargic. She’d brought her in and posted signs around town, but so far no one had claimed her. Which meant she’d likely been abandoned by someone passing through town.
“The poor baby won’t eat,” Cass said. “I tried everything you recommended, but she just kind of nibbles, then goes back to sleep.”
“I figured that might be the case.” Which gave her the perfect excuse to come in on a Sunday. She’d already started the pig on antibiotics but might have to up the dosage. “That’s why I thought I’d better stop and check in. I’ll go take a look.” She slipped past the desk and hurried to the back room. Though she’d given the pig the largest crate they had, it had curled up in the farthest corner, snout burrowed into the soft blanket Jessa had used to make a bed. When she unlatched the crate, the pig’s head lifted, but it didn’t move.
“Come here, sweetie.” Carefully, Jessa lifted her out and held her the same way she’d hold a baby. Based on the pig’s small size, she’d guess her to be less than a year old. “Why would anyone ever leave you behind?” she cooed, petting her soft head. “You’re so pretty, yes you are.” Downright irresistible, if you asked her, with that shiny pink snout and those black and white spots. “Such a pretty piggy.”
“Think she’s gonna make it?” Luis asked from behind her.
“She might have a touch of pneumonia, but we’ll take care of her.” Jessa scratched the pig’s ears and it lifted its snout into the air. “You like that, don’t you,” she murmured.
The pig gave the cutest little grunt, proving that a little love can help perk up anyone.
“Would you mind if I brought her home?” Jessa turned to Luis. I’d like to keep a closer eye on her.”
“Fine by me.” Having brought up three boys, Luis seemed to be fazed by nothing. He’d told her plenty of tales of Lance and his brothers bringing home snakes and mice and spiders.
“Not sure Lance’ll like the idea, though. He’s always sayin’ animals belong outside.”
She couldn’t fight a wicked grin. Even better.
“Got a name for her?” the man asked, scratching under the pig’s chin.
Jessa held her up and carefully looked her over. “Ilsa,” she said, satisfied. “Because she’s fancy.” And because she loved Casablanca.
Luis grunted out a laugh. “Never met a pig named Ilsa.”
“You named her?” Cass asked, walking through the door. “Uh-oh. In my experience naming an animal means it’ll be part of your family forever.”
“I’d be fine with that.” Jessa couldn’t take in every animal that came through the shelter’s doors, but Ilsa was obviously special.
“So you could’ve called to check on the pig, you know,” her friend said as though she was hurt. “I could’ve handled it until tomorrow.”
Guilt turned Jessa’s stomach. “Oh, I know. Of course you could.” That wasn’t it at all! “It’s just…” She paused. There was no way she’d get out of this without telling her the whole story, which she couldn’t do in front of Lance’s father. She turned to him. “Luis, do you mind getting started on inventory in the storage room?”
“No problem,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat in Cassidy’s direction as he slipped by.
Once he was gone, Cassidy plopped down at the desk with the aged computer, then rolled another office chair close and pointed at it. “Spill it. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be enjoying a day off.”
Jessa sat and settled Ilsa on her lap. She would’ve been enjoying a day off if things hadn’t gotten so awkward back at the ranch. In a hushed tone, she shared the whole story in what had to be record time.
Cassidy’s eyes grew wider and wider. “Wow. So what’re you going to do? You going to stay there?”
“I feel like I have to.” She’d made a deal with Lance. Besides, she needed the money. And now she wouldn’t feel bad at all taking a cut. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of bowing out because things had gotten a little uncomfortable.
“I can’t believe you kissed Lance Cortez,” Cassidy blurted. Her eyes bulged and she covered her mouth. “Sorry. But that’s crazy. Was it good?”
“No.” Yes it was. Her heart sighed. Sooooo good.
“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”
Jessa simply petted Ilsa’s coarse hair and planted a kiss on the pig’s head. “I wonder why someone didn’t want her,” she said, trying to get Cassidy to focus on something besides Lance.
Luis came back, lugging along her father’s old metal toolbox. “We’re almost out of dog bones,” he informed her. “But from what I can tell, everything else looks fine.”
Of course it was fine, because she’d done the inventory three days ago. Jessa fanned her face. “Okay,” she sang. “Thanks, Luis. I’ll add dog bones to the list.”
He secured the toolbox under one arm and hooked the other around the ladder they kept behind the counter. “I’m gonna head out and get that sign fixed.”
After he’d moseyed through the door, Cassidy looked at Jessa with shiny eyes, a grin brimming. But before the woman could ask more questions, she glanced at the call log on the desk. “Has anything else come in today?”
Cassie snorted. “No. But Hank Green called. Twice in the past half hour, even though I told him you’re not in today. I offered to help him out, but it’s not me he wants.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Damn it. Not exactly the kind of call she’d hoped for. Give her a fawn tangled in a fence any day over Hank Green. The retired grocery store manager had had a thing for her ever since she’d worked there the summer she’d turned eighteen. He made passes at her every time he saw her.
She sighed. “What’s the problem?”
“His cat is stuck in a tree. Again.” Cassidy laughed. “He probably put him up there so he could call you.”
“Oy.” Hank did have some delusions about the two of them driving off into the sunset together. Despite the fact that he was a good forty years older than her and she’d tried to tell him repeatedly he wasn’t her type.
Cassidy patted her hand sympathetically. “I told him he’d have to check in with you Monday if he wanted to talk with you.”
Except that would mean she had nothing to do here today. No reason to keep Luis here, which meant they would have to go back to the ranch. And she dreaded that even more than she dreaded Hank’s awkward passes. “Actually, I think I’ll go over there.” She rose from the chair and started to collect everything she’d need for Ilsa—the crate, the antibiotics, a special bottle so she could help her put on some weight. She could easily drop the pig off at the ranch before heading over to Hank’s place.
When she turned around, Cass was gaping at her. “That’ll only encourage him, you know.”
“The poor cat. It’s not his fault his owner is nuts.” She crossed to the other desk and pulled out her medical kit from the drawer, just in case Butch the wonder cat was injured during the rescue.
“I’m sure he’ll get him down if you don’t come,” Cassidy muttered.
“I wish I had your faith.” But Hank could be quite persistent. She’d been witness to that. “Anyway, this is exactly what I need today. A distraction.” A reason to avoid the ranch. Okay, a reason to avoid Lance. “I’ll bring Luis with me.”
“Oh, that’ll help.” Her friend rolled her eyes. Hank had always had it out for
the Cortez boys—called them hoodlums and troublemakers—and now the rivalry between Hank Green and Luis Cortez was legendary. “You might want to bring some rope in case there’s a brawl and you have to hog-tie the two of them.”
“Everything’ll be fine,” she insisted. Even if it wasn’t, it would be a hell of a lot easier than facing Lance again today.
Chapter Eleven
Though she couldn’t say much for the man himself, Jessa had always loved Hank Green’s house. Located only a few blocks off Main Street, it had that old, small-town curb appeal, with rounded Victorian bay windows and pointed eaves. Pale bricks set off the blue shutters and an intricate white front porch wrapped the length of the house in a charming elegance.
“Hank Green needs your help about as much as Lance needs mine,” Luis mumbled as she pulled up to the curb.
“I feel bad for him,” Jessa said through a sigh. “He’s lonely.” So he called her over to help with his animals occasionally. What was the harm in that? Though he was in his late sixties, the man had never been married, never had any family, so she could understand why he’d want some company. “Besides,” she continued, withdrawing the keys and unclipping her seat belt, “I can’t ignore an animal in distress.” The poor cat was probably terrified.
“You sure do have a big heart, Jessa.” Luis pulled himself out of her truck, and did she imagine it or was he wincing more than normal?
Before she could make a full assessment, Hank waved from the front porch.
“Jessa. Thank God you’re here,” he called, teetering down the steps while he clutched the rail. The rim of white hair on his head had been neatly trimmed, and the bald spot on top shone in the sun. “Butch is terrified up there. I can hear him meowing.”
Luis snorted and Jessa shoved a gentle elbow into his ribs. “Be nice,” she whispered. “At least you have Lance and Naomi and Gracie around.”
A small smile fumbled on his lips. “And you,” he said. Which made her smile. Though she missed her father with heart-aching sorrow, having Luis sure helped.
Hank lumbered down the walkway toward them.
Ah, geez. He’d put on his dress slacks, with a sweater vest and bow tie. If only she could convince him dressing up for her wasn’t worth the effort.
“What’re you doing here, Cortez?” he asked, as though perturbed that he had some competition.
“Luis is helping at the shelter today,” Jessa answered for him. The less these two gentlemen talked, the better off everyone would be. Way back in a previous life, Hank had accused Levi, the youngest Cortez, of shoplifting from his store. Levi, of course, always claimed innocence, and when Luis went down there to straighten things out, it had ended in a brawl that had the town sheriff locking up both men overnight.
Hank still eyed Luis warily. “I’ve told you, Jessa. I can help you at the shelter.” He shifted his body as if to block out Luis and focus solely on her. “I have nothing but time on my hands, and as you know, I am an animal lover.”
“Lover,” Luis scoffed under his breath. Jessa did have to admit that Hank somehow made that word sound rather dirty.
Instead of indulging Hank’s offer with an acknowledgment, she brushed past him and continued up the walkway toward the house. “So where is poor Butch?” she asked.
“He’s out back. About halfway up that blue spruce.” Hank hustled to her side, leaving Luis to walk behind them. “I don’t even know how he got out…”
Once again, Luis snorted.
Jessa shot him a look over her shoulder. Hopefully it said, Let’s not make this more painful that it has to be. Though she had a hard time choking back a laugh. “How high up?” she asked in a businesslike tone. If she could keep them on track, this wouldn’t have to take long and she wouldn’t risk the two of them getting into another brawl.
“Oh, I don’t know…” The man led the way around the side of the house on an intricate stone path that weaved through his prize-winning rose garden. “Maybe twenty feet up.”
“Twenty feet?” Was the man trying to kill her? “You could’ve called the fire department,” she reminded him. That was the sort of thing the small-town Topaz Falls Fire and Rescue was famous for. Rescuing kitties, helping little old ladies cross the street, putting out one hell of a scorching calendar every year…
“I did call.” Hank escorted her past the large white gazebo in the backyard. It was gorgeous. Flawless and lavish, adorned with hanging baskets of every kind of flower. God, maybe she should just give in and marry the man. He had the best yard in all of Topaz Falls.
“The fire department refused to come.”
Yeah, and she was Dolly Parton. The thought brought on a serious cringe. Hank probably wished she were Dolly Parton…
This time Luis coughed behind her, but at least he was keeping his mouth shut. She gave him a surreptitious grin before glancing up into the blue spruce that towered over a white picket fence on the back perimeter of the property.
At least twenty feet above the ground, the cat crouched on a wide pluming branch, its face obscured by the pine needles.
Oh, wow. Yeah. That cat was stuck. “Have you tried calling to him? Luring him down with treats?” she asked, shading her eyes from the overpowering sun.
“Of course,” Hank assured her emphatically. “I’ve tried everything. I’m so distressed by the whole thing. Butch hates heights.”
Again, Jessa called his bluff. Butch did, indeed, look terrified. But there was no way he’d climbed up there by himself. Cassidy was right. Hank had probably hauled over the ladder and stowed the cat up there as a ploy to get her to come over.
“Maybe he’ll come down when he sees your beautiful face,” Hank murmured, leaning too close for comfort. The smell of Pepto-Bismol wafted around her, stealing the sweet scent of roses from the air.
With a quick sidestep she escaped the assault, drawing closer to Luis.
“The thing is, I can’t keep climbing up your tree to get your cat down, Hank.” This was the fifth time in less than two months. But this was also the highest she’d ever found Butch.
“I understand,” he said through a martyred sigh. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask for your help anymore.”
“There really is a God,” Luis muttered, though not nearly soft enough.
Hank whirled. “What the hell does that mean, Cortez? Do you have a problem with me?”
“I think it was you who had a problem with me,” Luis shot back.
Jessa stepped between them. “Luis, can you please go get Hank’s ladder out of the garage?” she asked in her sweetest-daughter-in-the-world voice. Her father had never been able to resist it, and it appeared Luis couldn’t either. He turned away, mumbling some very colorful names for Hank, and hoofed it to the path around the side of the house.
Whew. Crisis averted. Lance would kill her if he knew she’d let his father get into it with Hank Green.
Lance. Right on cue, her stomach dropped and her heart twirled and the warmth of the sun seemed to slip inside her skin.
“So what’s the plan?” Hank’s low and gritty tone snuffed out the sudden fire burning hot and low in her belly. Well, there it was. Her remedy for shamelessly swooning over Lance. She didn’t have to worry about that when Hank was nearby. “Um.” She pushed her bangs off her forehead and gazed up again.
Butch was still perched in place, frozen into a fluffy cat statue. She moved closer to the tree. “Here kitty. Come on, Butch, baby. Come down now.”
The cat crouched lower and mewed. There was no way in hell he was coming down on his own. Which meant she would have to go up and get him. “We need the ladder.” Luis must’ve found it by now, but he was probably taking his time so he could cool off.
Hank slipped in front of her, gazing down on her with an affectionate look that deepened the creases in the corners of his beady gray eyes. “Jessa…while we wait, I want to thank you. For coming. You’re always there for me when I need something.”
“Technically I’m always there for Butch
—”
Hank didn’t seem to hear. “I hope you’ll let me take you out to dinner this time. Only to thank you, of course,” he said quickly. “Someplace nice. Maybe the Broker?”
“The Broker?” She almost laughed. “But that’s in Denver.”
“Exactly. We could make it a weekend trip…” Mr. Green rubbed his hand on her shoulder.
She swatted at it like she would a pestering fly. “I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen. Ever.” And the touching her shoulder thing…that had to stop, too.
“Ever?” he repeated, as though mortally wounded.
A sigh lodged in her throat. The poor man. He wasn’t so bad. Hell, at least he had good taste. And at least he didn’t look at her like she was some pathetic groupie. “I’m not in a good place for anything like that right now,” she said gently.
His lips pursed while his head bobbed in a brave nod. “I understand. I can wait.”
Never. She’d told him never. Ain’t no way he could wait that long…
“Mew.” The cat’s soft call commanded her attention. Jessa stood on her tiptoes and tried to see through the pine needles.
“Mew.” Butch inched forward on the branch as though ready to jump down to the next one.
“That’s it!” Jessa scrambled up the first couple of branches until she was about five feet off the ground. “Come on, Butchie. Come here.” She pulled herself up higher. Somewhere beneath her something cracked.
“Here. I’ll give you a boost,” Hank offered, raising his hands and cupping them against her ass.
“No thanks,” she squawked, darting up to the next branch. The tree was thick and sturdy, shaking only slightly while she climbed higher. After pulling herself up a few more branches, she had to stop. The branches were getting thinner and there was no way they’d support her weight. Butch had climbed down a ways, but he was still a few feet above her. “Here, kitty,” she crooned softly. “Come on, now. I’m right here. Jump down and I’ll catch you.”
The cat crept closer to the edge of the branch, head low, wide, terrified eyes focused on Jessa.
Hometown Cowboy Page 12
