Rich Rancher's Redemption

by Maureen Child

  “Go boss, you got him.”

  “Come on, Carlos,” someone else called, “don’t let him win again!”

  Laughing, feeling the rush of a fast horse and the wind in his face, Jesse beat Carlos into the ranch yard by a nose and pulled back on the reins to ease his horse into slowing down.

  “You got me,” Carlos said, laughing. “But tomorrow I take the stallion and you ride this lazy gelding.”

  “It’s not the horse, Carlos.” Jesse held out one hand. “It’s the rider.”

  Still laughing, Carlos shook then warned, “Tomorrow it’ll be different.”

  “Keep hope alive.” Jesse swung down from his horse, handed the reins over to Carlos who would get the horses cooled down and stabled. Being out with the men, focusing on the work of keeping such a big ranch running well cleared his mind, gave him peace—however briefly. It wiped away worries about Will, guilt over Lucy and Brody and even numbed the thoughts of Jillian that were now almost constant. Now that he was back, work over for the day, he knew she would crowd his mind again and there was no way to stop it. No way to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.

  Scowling a little, he told Carlos, “I’ll be by later to check on Dancer.”

  The mare was close to delivering her foal, and Jesse wanted to make sure everything was as it should be. He knew the local vet, Scarlett McKittrick, could be here in fifteen minutes if he needed her help, but chances were good Dancer would manage the labor and birth on her own as horses had been doing for millennia.

  “I think it’ll be much later, boss.” Carlos looked past Jesse and nodded, a faint smile on his face. “Looks like you’ve got some company.”

  Jesse turned and felt a hard punch slam into his chest. A hell of a lot of good it did him trying to put her out of his mind when she could show up out of nowhere and knock him off his feet. Jillian stood there beside that beat-up Honda of hers, holding what looked to be a foil-covered plate. Not that he cared what she was holding. He just liked looking at her.

  Jesse had seen Mac with Brody earlier and had known that sooner or later, the little girl’s mother would be arriving to get her. And right now, he was glad as hell he’d come in from the pasture when he had. Otherwise he might have missed her.

  When that thought settled in, Jesse frowned to himself. He didn’t like that he cared whether or not he saw the woman, but the feeling was there whether he wanted to admit it or not. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Instead, he filled his gaze with the woman who was driving him nuts lately.

  Her long blond hair was in the ever-present ponytail that was beginning to really get to him. Nothing he wanted more than to free all that hair and run his fingers through it, watch it frame her face. He wanted to know how long it was, and how it looked lying against her bare skin.

  She wore a dark red shirt, blue jeans, and stylish boots. With the hard wind blowing, the ends of her hair lifted and twisted as if dancing.

  As he walked toward her, he watched her wide mouth curve into a smile that set a fire in the pit of his belly. It took everything he had to keep from giving in to the urge to grab hold of her and finally taste that mouth.

  “You won.” She shook a few windblown tendrils of hair out of her face and looked up into his eyes.

  “Yeah.” He grinned and tossed a look over his shoulder to where Carlos was leading the horses toward the barn. “This time anyway. You here to pick up Mac?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but I wanted to see you first.”

  Interesting. “Why’s that?”

  “I wanted to thank you,” she said, holding out the foil-covered plate. “You’ve been so good to Mac, letting her ride the horses she loves. Helping me find that apartment—”

  “Don’t thank me for that.” He shook his head. “Still can’t believe you wanted to stay in that grim little place.”

  She laughed. “The apartment’s fine and I appreciate it.”

  Frowning a little, he said, “Either way, you don’t have to thank me.”

  “I already have.” She was still holding the plate out, so Jesse took it.

  “Heavy.”

  “Glass pie plate,” she said.

  “Pie?” Both eyebrows winged up. “You bought me a pie?”

  “I didn’t buy it,” she told him, slightly insulted. “I made it. And I want that pie plate back when you’re finished.”

  “Really?” He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had given him anything, let alone something she’d taken the time and trouble to make herself. Pleasure shone in her eyes, and Jesse thought she just kept getting more beautiful. Then, pushing that stray thought aside, he lifted the edge of the foil and briefly looked at the golden crust before carefully covering the pie again. “What kind is it?”

  She took a deep breath, tucked her hands into her pockets and said, “It’s my specialty. Spiced cherry.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You have a specialty?”

  “I do and you’ll love it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She met his gaze. “It’s better than good.”

  Looking into those smoky green eyes of hers, Jesse felt another twist of heat down low in his gut. It wasn’t pie he was thinking of now. He had a feeling that if he ever got his hands on her she would be better than good, too.

  “Come on. We’ll go to my place and I can taste this pie.,” When she glanced toward the main house as if deciding whether or not she should go and get Mac right away, he added, “Mac’s playing with Brody. You can take a few minutes. See if I like this pie. I happen to be a pie-eating expert. I can tell you if it’s any good or not.”

  “I’m not worried,” she said proudly, lifting her chin slightly. “That’s the best pie you’ve ever eaten.”

  He tipped the brim of his hat back. “That’s a big statement since my mother makes the best apple pie on the planet.”

  “I really like Cora Lee,” she said, “but I’ll put my pies up against hers anytime.”

  “Well,” Jesse said nodding, “now there’s no choice. You have to come over so we can settle this.”

  She chewed at her bottom lip for a second before saying, “Okay. For a few minutes. Then I’ve got to get Mac and head home. I’m later than I thought I’d be, but I wanted to finish the pie so I could bring it to you.”

  The first raindrops plopped into the dirt as they climbed the steps to the stone porch. Jesse opened the heavily carved front door and stood back to allow Jillian to enter first.

  He watched her as she looked around and Jesse saw his place through her eyes. Wide plank, golden oak floors, Native American paintings and family photos on the walls and Navajo rugs scattered across the floors. She wandered through the entryway, peeked into the main room, and he knew she saw a completely masculine space. Well, hell, he lived here alone, so why would there be feminine touches? The only women who ever came into his house were his mother and sister and the housekeeper, once a week. When Jesse wanted a woman he went to her place.

  He never brought them to the ranch. To this house. He didn’t want some woman to start feeling cozy in his place. Start leaving bits of clothing or makeup or whatever, trying to stake a claim both on him and his world.

  This was different, though, he assured himself. Jillian wouldn’t be here long. As much as he’d like to, he wouldn’t be steering her down the hall to his room and laying her out across his bed. Gritting his teeth, he pushed that thought away and watched her. She looked around the main room and he saw it fresh, through her.

  Burgundy-colored leather chairs and couches were grouped in front of a stone fireplace that was perfect when it was cold enough for a fire. Thank God he had a housekeeper, so the place wasn’t covered in an inch of dust, but there were books stacked on tables, an abandoned coffee cup and invoices, records and bills scattered on the floor around the chair he usually sat in.

  �
�It’s a great place,” she said, taking in the wide windows that overlooked the corral and the ranch yard. Then her gaze landed on the paperwork. “Interesting filing system.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled his hat off and set it, crown down, on the closest table. “I was working when Carlos came to get me to ride out to the pasture and check on a few of the herd. We’ve got some pregnant cows out there and wanted to make sure they had enough water.”

  “I thought you had ponds and lakes.”

  “We do,” he said, “but sometimes, the stock ponds get gummed up or start going dry.”

  “How do you keep track of so many animals?”

  He shrugged. “The cowboys ride the land most days, we keep a running head count of the cattle so if any wander off, we can go find ’em.”

  “So you’re riding across the ranch every day?”

  “I wish,” he muttered, then glanced at the paperwork. “If I had my way, yeah. But there’s a lot of that to be done, too. Plus there’s more than the animals to care for. There are stock ponds to keep clean and clear, feed fields to manage and the pastures themselves.”

  She shook her head. “It sounds intimidating.”

  “Can be,” he agreed, and realized this was the first time a woman had actually asked him about his work. And she looked as though she really was interested. “If you don’t learn from the best. I did. My dad knew everything there was to know about ranching and he taught me.”

  “From everything Lucy and Cora Lee have told me about him, he sounds like a very special man.”

  “He was. In every way.” Jesse stared out the front window at the ranch he’d loved from the first moment he’d set foot on the place. “He loved Lucy and me and raised us as if we were his own.”

  Nodding, she turned, too, to look out the window at the darkness creeping in as twilight ended. “That is special. Not everyone can accept a child other than their own.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said, “Roy was one of a kind.” To change the subject, he pulled the foil back from the pie and took a whiff. “Smells good.”

  “Tastes better.” A couple of long, silent seconds ticked past, then she said abruptly, “Have you always wanted to be a rancher?”

  “For as long as I can remember.” He took her arm and steered her down the long hall toward the back of the house. “Let’s get to the kitchen so I can grab a fork.”

  They walked through the dining room, past a wide table long enough to seat twelve comfortably and through a door into the kitchen. Beside him, Jillian stopped dead, gasped in astonishment, then turned a slow circle, looking all around.

  “What is it?”

  She held up one hand for silence and murmured, “Just, wait. I’m having a moment here.”

  Her features told him she loved the room. The walls were a soft blue, cabinets were white and the countertops were black granite. In front of the bay window was a round pedestal table and matching chairs where Jesse usually ate since the dining room was too huge for a man alone. The appliances were all top-of-the-line stainless steel. Over the built-in gas stove was a copper range hood and in the middle island was a second sink and Jesse’s favorite part of the kitchen, an indoor grill.

  “This is...amazing.” Her voice was low and breathy, as if she were in church. She took a step farther into the room, reached out one hand and stroked her fingertips across the black granite. Looking back at him, she said, “I have serious kitchen envy. What I could do with—It’s a dream kitchen. Like something you’d see in a magazine.”

  He chuckled, moved past her and set the pie down on the center island. Yanking open a drawer, he pulled out two forks. “Glad you like it. And it’s funny you should say that about a magazine kitchen. That’s exactly what this was.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He turned to a cupboard, took down two plates and then grabbed a pie slicer from another drawer. “When I was building this place, Lucy showed me a picture of this exact kitchen in a magazine. So I showed it to the architect and told him I wanted it.”

  She blinked at him and laughed a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who would—or could—do that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a kitchen. Don’t really use it all that much, except to make coffee and to keep my beer cold.”

  “Oh, God...”

  He looked up when she moaned. “The best part of the whole kitchen, to my mind, is the grill there. Most times when I come in at the end of the day I’m too tired to cook, but I can always grill. Toss a steak on there and I’m good.”

  “That’s practically criminal,” she said softly.

  “What?” He looked at her.

  “To have this fantastic kitchen and only use the island grill?” She shook her head again. “Criminal.”

  “Well, don’t arrest me until I’ve tried the pie.” He cut two slices, plated them, then carried both plates to the table. “Come on. If you don’t have some I’ll wonder if you poisoned it or something.”

  She followed and sat opposite him. Outside, twilight lay across the ranch and shimmered on the raindrops pelting the window. Within minutes, darkness would drop like a curtain. “I would never ruin one of my pies with poison.”

  He grinned. “Good to know.”

  It felt good, sitting there with her in the dying light. Talking with her. Seeing her smile. Lust still clawed at his insides, but there was another part of him that was enjoying this moment. “Okay,” he said, lifting his fork. “Moment of truth.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Confident,” he said. “I like it.”

  He took a bite of the pie and the minute it hit his tongue, Jesse groaned quietly. Spices exploded in his mouth, combining into flavors like he’d never tasted before. He chewed, swallowed, then took another bite.

  She grinned. “Told you.”

  When he could, Jesse said, “You’re a witch or something, right? This is incredible. Seriously great.”

  She seemed to practically glow under his compliments and he had to wonder about that. “Thank you,” she said, taking a bite of the pie herself. “It’s my grandma Rhonda’s recipe. She taught me.”

  “Like I said earlier, it’s all about learning from the best.”

  Her smile widened. “She really was, too. The best, I mean.”

  “Got to see a lot of her when you were a kid?”

  “She raised me,” Jillian said simply in a tone that told him she wouldn’t welcome questions.

  He could live with that. “Well, she did a damn good job of it as far as I can see.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You should sell these,” Jesse told her, wolfing down another bite of pie.

  “That’s the plan.”

  He stopped. “Is that right?”

  Nodding, she said, “I love baking and I’m good at it.”

  “I can testify.”

  “I want to open a shop. Pies. Cookies. Cakes.” She paused as if she’d heard the excitement in her own voice and was embarrassed by it. “Well, that’s the dream anyway.”

  “With talent like this, it should be more than a dream.”

  She smiled and in the dim light, he thought he saw her eyes sparkling. Reaching back behind him, Jesse hit the switch for the overhead light. It was on a dimmer switch, so a soft glow settled over the table and the two people seated there.

  “That’s nice.” She looked up at the rustic/industrial chandelier with glass spheres and curved iron arms.

  “Yeah. Before dawn I don’t like being stabbed in the eye with light while I drink my coffee.”

  She laughed a little and that low, throaty sound did some amazing things to his insides.

  “So,” he asked, “why’re you working at the day care when you can cook like this?”

  She shrugged. “I needed a job. Besides, I don’t have enough money yet to get a
pie shop going.”

  “How much do you have?” Jesse didn’t know why he was asking, other than that he wanted to see that excited gleam in her eyes again.

  She looked as if she was going to refuse to answer and he couldn’t blame her. Kind of a rude question. But then she took a breath and sighed. “When I sold my grandmother’s mobile home a few years ago, I got fifteen thousand, but I’ll need more than that. So I’ve been saving and in a few years, I should be able to do it.”

  He took another bite of the truly great pie and chewed thoughtfully. “We own half of Royal, you know.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Not what I meant.” He waved his fork at her. “I think I know a shop on Main Street that would work for you.”

  She gasped, clearly stunned, and he enjoyed the moment before she spoke. “Thanks, but like I said, I’ll need more start-up capital to—”

  “The shop’s already set up with what you’d need. Used to be a bakery until the owner moved to Michigan for some reason...”

  Her fingers tapped on the tabletop and he could see her thinking, wondering, worrying.

  “But—”

  “And if you need more capital, I can advance it to you.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shook her head, squared her shoulders and sat so straight in her chair, it was as if she had a board stuffed down the back of her shirt. “The Sanders family has already set me up in an apartment. I took that because Mac needed it. But I don’t do charity.”

  “Good,” he said roughly, keeping his voice stern and businesslike. “Because that’s not what I’m offering. I’ll be your partner.”

  Six

  Jillian just stared at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had she gone from bringing Jesse a pie to him offering to set her up in business? And why was she even considering this?

  “Silent partner,” he added quickly and took another bite of pie. “I’ll back you and when the shop’s up and going, you can pay me back. Buy me out.”