His Texas Wildflower

by Stella Bagwell

  He casually folded his arms against his chest. “Hmm. Does that mean you’ll be taking her back to Houston with you?”

  His question brought her up short. What had she been thinking? That she was automatically going to stay here from now on with her little family of animals? Had she been speaking her dreams out loud without bothering to think how ridiculous they must sound to this man?

  She groaned inwardly. “I don’t know about that, Jake. I’ve not thought that far ahead. I just like to think that she’ll be with me for a while. You know what I mean?”

  An easy smile came upon his face and she suddenly realized that he did understand what she was trying to say, that maybe he didn’t find her dreams ridiculous after all. The way her mother had so many years ago.

  “Sure I do.”

  A breath of relief escaped her. “So, is there anything else I should know about her? Any problems?”

  “Nothing serious that I can see. She needs to be treated for parasites and her feet need attention. A set of shoes would help. Especially if you plan on riding her.”

  Rebecca’s lips parted with eager surprise. “Oh! Could I ride her?”

  The smile on his face deepened and her gaze zeroed in on the dimple at the side of his mouth. Oh, my, he was a charmer, she thought. And he didn’t even have to utter a word. Just one long look from the man was enough to melt a woman’s bones.

  “I don’t see why not. She appears to be gentle. If you’d like, I’ll bring a saddle over and see how she handles first. Do you know how to ride?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I know how to get in the saddle and make them go and stop. That’s the extent of it. My friend and I went to Padre Island one summer on vacation and we hired horses from a stable to ride on the beach. I’m sure they were what you’d call nags. But it was such fun.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know what Gertie was doing with Starr, but she’s definitely not in the nag department.”

  Rebecca walked over to Starr and pressed her cheek against the mare’s neck. Jake followed and as he came to a stop just behind her shoulder, she looked thoughtfully up at him.

  “I wonder what my aunt was doing with Starr?”

  His expression solemn, he shook his head. “I’m not sure if Abe or Quint ever spotted her on horseback. I certainly didn’t. Maybe she wanted the mare for company,” he suggested.

  A tiny pain squeezed somewhere in the middle of Rebecca’s chest. “Yes. She probably was lonely,” she murmured, then embarrassed by a sudden sting of tears, she turned her gaze on Starr’s gray coat.

  Behind her, Jake cleared his throat, then closed his hand over her shoulder and gently squeezed.

  Touched by his sensitivity, she turned toward him and tried her best to smile. He was so close that she could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes, smell the subtle scent of cologne clinging to his shirt. His lips were not exactly full, neither were they thin. The word perfect kept coming to her mind as her gaze inspected the way the lower one squared off at the corners, the way his strong jaws blended upward into a pair of lean, hollow cheeks.

  Doing her best to curb the urge to moisten her own lips, she said, “There is something else about Starr that you can advise me on. A couple of days ago, I purchased feed for her. From Marino’s—where I ran into you this morning. The man behind the counter suggested I give her a certain kind. But I’d like your opinion. I have it in the barn, if you’d care to look.”

  “I’d be happy to,” he replied.

  Drawing in a bracing breath, she stepped around him and started to the barn. When he didn’t follow immediately, she glanced behind her to see him removing the halter from Starr and opening the gate so that she could come and go whenever she liked.

  Rebecca paused to give him time to catch up with her, then led the way to the back of the barn where a small room with a door was located. When she opened it and Jake spotted the four sacks of feed, each weighing fifty pounds, stacked against one wall, he looked at her with surprise.

  “How did you get that stuff in here?”

  She shrugged as though it was no special feat. “I drove the truck as far as the fence would allow and then I used the wheelbarrow to get the sacks back here.”

  “But you had to lift them to get them inside this feed room.”

  “I’m not as fragile as I look. I work out at the gym and I have some muscles.”

  Whenever Jake looked at this woman, he didn’t see muscle. He saw gently rounded curves and soft, soft skin. He saw things he wanted to taste and touch. This evening she was wearing a purple top with a scooped neck and tiny little straps over her shoulders. The garment exposed her creamy skin and for the past few minutes that he’d been here, he’d had to fight with himself, remind himself that he had no right to reach out and touch, to let the pads of his fingers savor all that smooth, heated skin.

  “Then I guess I can quit worrying about you taking care of yourself.”

  Her brows arched faintly above her blue eyes, the corners of her lips curved upward. “Worried? Why? I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”

  “Maybe so. But not out here in the country. Like this. With no one around.”

  “Abe isn’t that far away. And if I needed help, he has dozens of cowboys.”

  Jake didn’t want to think about dozens of cowboys coming to Rebecca’s aid. He didn’t want to imagine just one. Unless that one was himself. Dear Lord, could Quint be right? he wondered. Was this woman the type who could hurt him? Really hurt him? He didn’t want to think about it.

  “Yeah. I suppose he does,” Jake murmured, then stepped inside the little feed room.

  She stood outside the open door and waited while he bent to inspect the feed and read the nutrition list. When he finally rose to his full height she said, “I’ve been giving her two of those scoops full twice a day. Is that enough? Or too much?”

  Jake looked at the plastic scoop lying inside a black rubber feed bucket.

  “That’s good for now. After a couple of weeks, you might increase it to three scoops in the morning and evening. By then she’ll be getting used to digesting more food on a regular basis. From the looks of her she could stand to gain about fifty to seventy-five pounds.”

  He stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. It looked as though his job was now finished and for the life of him Jake couldn’t think of one excuse to stay longer.

  “That’s great to know. I’ll mark it on the calendar to remind me when to give her more,” Rebecca told him, then smiled brightly. “Thanks for giving me all the horse lessons and for being so patient with such a—greenhorn.”

  He laughed softly. “I’d be as lost as a goose if I had to tell anyone about the fashion business. All I know is that I want my jeans to bend, my shirts to snap and my boots to have enough heel to stay in the stirrup.”

  She laughed along with him. “Yes, I guess we all have our own fortes.”

  Fighting the urge to clasp his hands around her arms and draw her to him, Jake jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. Saying the next words was going to be worse than downing a dose of bitter medicine, but Jake didn’t want to overstay his welcome and have her thinking he was a man who’d take advantage of her privacy.

  “Well, I guess if that’s all you needed from me this evening, I’ll be going.”

  The disappointment on her face was like a burst of sunshine to Jake.

  “Oh, you don’t have to go yet, do you?” she asked quickly. “I was hoping you could stay and have supper. I’ve made enchiladas and I can’t begin to eat them all.”

  Jake was more than a little stunned. True, she’d asked him out here for his help, but he’d never expected it to go any further than a few minutes of pleasant conversation over the mare.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  To his amazement, she reached over and looped her arm around his. “Intrude? I’m the one who’s been asking for all the favors,” she said. “And I ha
te eating alone. Don’t you?”

  If Jake truly wanted to be honest with this woman, he’d tell her that he hated doing everything alone. But he couldn’t admit such a thing to her. He wanted her, wanted everybody to believe he was a man who was happy with his life and himself.

  “I’m not particularly fond of it,” he replied.

  “Great. We’ll be doing each other a favor. Then let’s go on to the house. It won’t take but a few minutes to get things together.”

  As they left the barn and headed toward the little stucco, she kept her arm firmly clasped to his and Jake was amazed at how much the simple touch was affecting him.

  It didn’t make sense, he thought. Over the years, a heck of a lot of women had touched more than his arm. But none of those women or their touches had made him feel as though he was stepping two feet off the ground, as though he was someone important and wanted.

  She’s the type of woman who could hurt you without even trying.

  Quint’s words suddenly echoed through his mind and a nagging unease followed right behind them. He still had his ranch to improve, his mother to care for, and no experience of settling down with a woman—particularly one who wasn’t used to hard work and the realities of “cowboying,” as she’d said. His friend had been right, he thought. Rebecca could easily hurt him.

  If he let her. And Jake wasn’t about to do that. She might have a firm grip on his arm right now, but he’d never give her soft little fingers the chance to touch his heart.

  Chapter Five

  Moments later, at the house, Beau followed them onto the porch and before Rebecca could open it, the dog stuck his nose in the crack of the screen door.

  With a wry smile, she looked up at Jake. “Do you mind if Beau joins us? He’ll be a good boy and lie on the floor, out of the way.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  Jake followed her into the kitchen and was instantly struck by the delicious smell of just-cooked food. Glancing around the small room, he could see she’d made major headway in cleaning the piled cabinets and dusty linoleum.

  The evidence of her hard work surprised him somewhat. That first day he’d laid eyes on her at Gertie’s funeral, she’d seemed like the last sort to pick up a mop or broom or manhandle heavy feed sacks. But then, he’d not known her any more that day than he really knew her now.

  “Is cooking something you do regularly?” he asked.

  She laughed softly. “Not in Houston. I don’t have time for it. And I’m not really that good at it. I can do a few certain dishes. But now that I’ve moved out here, I’m trying to get the hang of making regular meals. It’s not like I can walk down the road to a deli or restaurant.”

  “No,” he agreed, while thinking what a drastic change in lifestyle this must be for her. About as drastic as him trying to survive in Houston.

  Gesturing toward an open doorway on the opposite side of the room, she said, “I’m sure you’d like to wash Starr’s hair from your hands. The bathroom is right down that hallway on the left. There should be soap and towels and whatever else you might need.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  Since the house was very small, it was no problem finding the bathroom. Along the way, Jake caught glimpses of the two bedrooms branching off the short hallway. In one, cardboard boxes and clothing were piled and strewn every which way. The other was neat and clean with a double bed made up with a white bedspread.

  As he washed his hands, he tried not to think about her lying upon that white bed, the night breeze blowing gently across her body. No. Those were thoughts he shouldn’t be dwelling on. Those were the kind of thoughts that could only get him into trouble. Yet he couldn’t quite shove them aside or quit wondering what it would be like to kiss her, make love to her.

  You can forget that, Jake. Rebecca might want you to share her supper table. But that’s a far leap away from her bed. Remember, you told Quint she’s not a barfly. So don’t expect her to behave like one. She’s a lady. A lady not likely to make love to rough-edged cowboys.

  Downright annoyed by the mocking voice in his head, Jake switched off the bathroom light and hurried to the kitchen. He’d told Quint that he knew how to be a gentleman. So now was the time for him to prove it.

  He found Rebecca setting the table with big red plates that were chipped around the rims and tea glasses foggy from years of handling. Even though Rebecca came from an easier life, he thought, her aunt certainly hadn’t lived one.

  “What can I do?” he offered.

  “Nothing. It’s all ready.”

  She plucked a bowl of tossed salad from the cabinet counter and placed it in the middle of the small table alongside the casserole dish containing the enchiladas.

  As she made a move to take one of the chairs, Jake quickly pulled it out for her, then helped her onto the seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done such a thing for a woman, but somehow it felt right with Rebecca.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Jake.”

  “My pleasure,” he murmured, forcing himself to drop the loose hold he had on her forearm and take a seat in the chair kitty-cornered to hers.

  “I have all the windows open,” she said, “but the oven has made it very hot in here. I hope the heat doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  The heat he was feeling had everything to do with her. Not the oven. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

  She picked up a spatula, then motioning for him to hold out his plate, she ladled a hefty portion of the meat and tortillas concoction onto the surface, then did the same for herself.

  A few feet behind them, Beau had curled up on the floor and now had one eye cocked curiously on their movements.

  “For a girl who never was around animals, you sure seemed to take to them,” Jake commented as he glanced at the contented dog.

  Smiling faintly, she said, “I guess you could say I feel like a child let loose in a toy store. I’m so enjoying Beau and the cats and Starr.”

  “You never had pets when you were a kid?” he asked curiously.

  Her gaze avoided his as she shook her head. “Not one. Mother wouldn’t allow it. She said they were messy and costly and would require too much care.”

  “Sounds like she’s not an animal lover.”

  Looking over at him, Rebecca grimaced. “Not hardly. She—uh—is not the outdoor sort.”

  “And you are?” he asked with an impish grin.

  She shrugged. “I’ve always thought I could be.” Her blue eyes caught hold of his. “You’ll probably laugh when I tell you this, Jake, but when I was young, I desperately wanted to become a veterinarian.”

  His fork paused in midair as he looked at her. A sheen of sweat dampened her forehead and her cheeks were flushed from the heat. She looked beautiful and sad and sexy all at the same time, he realized.

  “What happened? Why did you change your mind?”

  Her lips pursed together. “I didn’t change it. Mother changed it for me.”

  “Oh.”

  She helped herself to the salad bowl. “You see,” she began, “when my father, Vance, was still alive my life was fairly rounded. He understood that I needed and wanted to do things other than what my mother had planned out for me. But after he died, I didn’t have him to back me up on anything. And when it came to me wanting to become a vet, she thought doctoring sick animals was too primitive for her daughter. That it was just a childish whim on my part.”

  “Was it?”

  She sighed and Jake sensed there was something lost in her, some missing piece that she was yet to find. But then he supposed most people were that way to some degree. For years now his father’s leaving had left an empty spot in him and he’d often wondered how he would feel if he ever found the man and stood face-to-face with him. Yeah, he figured everyone was a little lost at some time in their life.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Being here with Beau and the rest of the animals makes me wonder if I sho
uld have stuck to my guns and gone after my own wishes.”

  “You’re still very young,” he pointed out. “You have plenty of time left to go after your wishes.”

  She looked at him with faint dismay. “You make it sound so simple. But it’s not. I have a job that pays extremely well. I’ve worked hard to build my career to this point. In fact, it’s taken years. Throwing all that away and going back to college would be a huge change in my life, not to mention a whole lot more work.”

  “Work isn’t work if you like what you’re doing.”

  She remained silent for a long moment and then she grinned at him. Jake felt his heart begin to kick like a trapped pony.

  “And do you like what you’re doing?” she countered.

  He chuckled. “We were talking about you.”

  “Yes, but that’s all we seem to do is talk about me. I want to hear about you.”

  “I’m not that interesting, Rebecca. I live a boring, everyday life.”

  “I don’t believe that. Tell me about your ranch. What do you call it?”

  “The Rafter R. That’s my brand, too. A gable of rafters with an R beneath it.”

  “Abe says the property is a very pretty piece of land.”

  “Abe did, did he?”

  “Yes. He says it’s near an old fort that the cavalry used years ago.”

  “That’s right. The Rafter R is out in the middle of nowhere. But the majority of the ranches around here have to be in the middle of nowhere. You need lots of acreage to run cattle in New Mexico. Forage is a scarce commodity. It’s not like the area you live in where the Bermuda grows knee-deep.”

  “I see. So do you like being a rancher?”

  Did he? There were many aspects of the job that he loved. Working outdoors, tending to the livestock, seeing the results of his handiwork. But working for Quint or managing the training stables at the Downs had been much easier. At those jobs, the responsibility of making major decisions had lain on someone else’s shoulders, not his.

  “For the most part. It’s the sort of work I’ve done all my life. I went to college for a couple of years thinking I might eventually do something different in the agriculture field. I even got an associate degree, ’cause I believe everybody ought to learn. But doing a thing is sometimes better learning than what books can tell you. And it just isn’t in me to be anything else besides a cowboy. Horses, cattle. They’re what I know.”