Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1)

by Beverly Preston

  “I purchased my property from your granddaddy, Mr. Walker Senior, thirty-five years ago. Ranchers in these parts had a rough few years, plagued with the worst drought on record. I caught him at a weak moment.”

  “Didn’t that rough patch include you too?” she asked, openly intrigued.

  He added a bold smile alongside another husky chuckle filling his broad barrel chest. “Ranching’s a hobby for me. I made my fortune in sustainable architecture…before it was the popular thing to do.”

  His crowing coaxed a sigh of irritation from his son. “Dad, I hate to interrupt, but like I told you earlier, I’ve got plans this afternoon, so I don’t have all day. Why don’t we let Ember finish her shopping?”

  Plans? All the questions whirling through her mind about her father and Mr. Harris vanished, leaving her with thoughts of Nash, wondering what kind of plans he had for the day.

  Business or pleasure?

  Mr. Harris scowled, grumbling under his breath, rattling off a list of complaints as he forced himself to the standing position. “First, he agrees to bring me here, then he tells me to hurry because he’s busy today.”

  “Maybe you caught him at a weak moment,” Ember mused softly.

  His scowl lifted into an amiable smile, eyes gleaming with endorsement.

  She wasn’t sure who appreciated her humorous comment more, Nash or his father. Judging by the full-blown grin warming Nash’s handsome features, she’d say him.

  Leaning on his crutch, Mr. Harris forced himself upright, glancing at her boots. He hobbled down the aisle, spouting, “Those boots won’t last two months in the saddle. What size you got there?”

  “I’m an eight. What would you suggest?”

  He scanned over the boots, pulling out a box of the most expensive pair on the entire row. “Nice, soft leather, low heel, these’ll do you just fine.”

  Ember grimaced reading the sticker, putting the box back on the rack. “I’m sure they’re great, but they’re too expensive.”

  Nash stood behind her. He leaned over her shoulder, the warmth of his breath made her flinch, saying in a low, sarcastic tone, “I’m pretty sure you can afford them.”

  Her face stiffened. Twisting her neck, she shot him a dark glance, muttering, “I don’t think you have any idea what I can or can’t afford.”

  The crescent shape of his dark lashes laid on his tan cheeks as he looked down at her, blue eyes full of surprise. He looked…baffled. Judging by the shock covering his face, it hadn’t occurred to Nash that she wasn’t diving headfirst into the ranch’s money.

  Mr. Harris had left them behind, making it halfway to the door. Nash rested a hand on her shoulder sending her into an instant thaw.

  He had the nerve to look apologetic.

  She had the nerve to accept it.

  Energy danced between them filling her gut with unfamiliar dips and spins and twirls.

  “And here I thought I about had it whipped.” Remorse teased the far corners of his voice.

  “What’s that?”

  “I almost made it through the entire encounter without being a jerk.”

  Ember pressed her lips together. She dipped her head hiding the embarrassment burning across her cheeks in a crimson flush. A slight bobble of the head. “You’re never going to forget that are you?”

  “Nope.”

  A few days later, the sun began its slow descent plunging toward the horizon in the distance, calling Ember to the front porch. Opening the door, she almost stumbled over a large package tucked inside a pink paisley gift bag.

  Setting her mat on the floor, she collected the present and sank back into a rocking chair. The bulky package barely fit across her lap. There was no card inside the bag just a tag dangling from the handle made from silky pink ribbons.

  Ember,

  Welcome to the neighborhood.

  Mr. H

  Glancing from side to side, she looked around discreetly, wondering which Mr. H had left the gift on her doorstep. She assumed senior. Reaching into the bag, she took out a box and tore open the plain brown paper.

  “Holy shit,” she murmured, pulling a pair of ultra-soft, cognac colored roper boots from the box. The vamp left unadorned showcased the hand-burnished calfskin leather.

  Kicking out of her sneakers, she stepped into the comfy boots, making a few passes from one end of the porch to the other.

  “Perfect fit.” She grinned, tucking a long lock of hair behind her ear, glancing down at the gorgeous gift. “How sweet is he?”

  Knowing how sensitive Mr. Montgomery was about receiving presents, she tiptoed inside and disposed of the bag in the trash, before tucking the boots into her closet.

  Chapter 8

  Ember

  Dream big, set goals, take action and NEVER let them see you sweat.

  A tear slid down her cheek as the tips of her fingers traced over the worn leather-bound journal. With the turn of each page, her father’s handwriting became more and more difficult to read. Letters and words began to stretch out with occasional long lazy loops and sketchy wobbles.

  It pained her heart to know he suffered. She wished she could’ve known him, spent time with him, taken care of him. There was no doubt in her mind, she would’ve loved him.

  The chime of the doorbell drew her out of her daze. Ember set the book on her bedside table, tossed the covers aside, and crawled out of bed. Plodding down the hallway in a vintage AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, she raked her fingers through her mane of dark hair, removing any tangles before opening the door.

  Peering through the peephole, all she could see was a black velvet hat.

  “Hello.” She opened the door, finding a man wearing boots, jeans, and stern look of purpose.

  “Ember Thompson?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been served.” He handed off a manila envelope, tipping his hat politely acting as if using proper manners would make up for the delivery. “Have a nice day.”

  Trepidation drained the pleasantries from each tiny muscle on her face. Early morning sun warmed her bare feet as she stood on the porch, paralyzed, unable to react. Her fingers worked clumsily, attempting to open the envelope which was apparently tamperproof because it wasn’t budging.

  She trudged inside and threw open a kitchen drawer searching for a pair of scissors.

  “Good morning,” Bee chimed, reaching for the coffee pot to fill Mr. Montgomery’s thermos. “Did I hear the doorbell ring?”

  Ember held up the packet of papers, grumbling, “Yeah, I’ve been served.”

  “Let me see that.” Mr. Montgomery was at her side in three strides. He took the envelope from her unsteady fingers, making haste with the scissors, yanking the thin packet of papers from its confines.

  Pressure started to build turning his face cherry red, steam practically pouring from his ears.

  Her fingers wrung together in tight circles. “What does it say?”

  “It says, they want a paternity test. They want proof you’re Walker’s daughter.”

  “Can…can they do that? Who is they?”

  “Hell, if I know. It’s some corporation or conglomerate I’ve never heard of. If I had to guess, I’d say someone’s not happy to see you sticking around. Most of these damn vultures expected you to hightail it straight to the real estate broker’s office as soon as you set foot on this ranch.”

  Perspiration gathered on her upper lip. When Ember first learned of her father’s passing, she questioned her mother regarding the possibility of another man being her biological father, but June swore she’d only had sex with one man, just one, Ben Walker.

  Ember trusted her mother’s promise.

  Determination that had been smoldering inside for weeks, flashed into an eruption of defiance and grit. A burning rage of tenacity she’d never known before.

  Ember threw an arm out to the side. “Do they really think I’m going to be that easy? Do these fuckers…pardon my language, Bee, but do these fuckers really expect me
just to roll over? Give in and give up so they can come in and swoop up his property like a discarded penny lying on the pavement.”

  “Now don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll take care of it,” Bee assured in a hushed tone.

  Phone in hand, Mr. Montgomery was already dialing their attorney.

  Inundated by a host of emotions, none of them pleasant, her muscles trembled like a newborn baby. A vision of old men on horseback, gathered around her father’s hospital bed, waiting for the last breath to leave his fragile body, flashed in her mind.

  She paced around the kitchen island, bare feet stomping with each pronounced step. “Who do they think they are?”

  Blood pounded in her temples. Fury pushed beyond her boiling point. Words of anger and frustration tumbled from her lips. “First the gifts, then all the phone calls, now they want proof. Who do they think they are?”

  Ember paused mid-stride hovering over the kitchen counter, listening to his conversation with the attorney. The hammering of her heart pounded in her ears. She wanted it to end. She needed them to leave her alone until she had time to decide what she wanted. Was it too much to ask for some simple privacy…time to absorb all the changes and responsibilities that had been dumped in her lap?

  She motioned for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”

  Mr. Montgomery frowned cutting a deep rut between his brows. Hesitantly, he said, “Just a minute, Mr. Jenson. Miss Thompson would like to speak with you.”

  “Mr. Jenson, this is Ember Thompson.”

  “Hello, Miss Thompson. I was just explaining to Monty that I’ll need to see the paperwork. If he’ll drop it by my office, I’ll look over it and see where we stand. I’ve got some phone calls to make. I will warn you, just as I have Monty, they are very persistent.”

  “Do they not understand that I plan to honor my father’s wishes and stay the four months?”

  “No disrespect to your father, Ember, but these men don’t care. I’m not trying to make light of your situation, but they see it as business. It’s nothing personal against you or your father.”

  “Well, it’s personal to me.”

  “I’ll send another email stating that you wish to have—”

  “Mr. Jenson, I’d like you to set up a meeting.”

  “With?”

  “Everyone who’s shown interest in purchasing the property.”

  “Miss Thompson, I know you’re upset, but that’s not how we typically handle—”

  “I’m probably not your typical client. I’m not going to have this constant bullshit hanging over my head for the next three and a half months. I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Should we meet at your office?”

  Brazenness fired on all cylinders. Ember had never spoken to anyone in such a demanding tone. The bold act surprised even herself. A full sixty seconds of silence followed her request. The sound of typing filtered through the receiver.

  “I’ll set it up. I’ll need to find a bigger conference room, so I’ll have to text you the address. Does four o’clock work for you?”

  She turned to Mr. Montgomery and mouthed four o’clock. He nodded. “That’s perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ember hung up the phone, sweat trickled down her nape as she turned to face the Montgomery’s. Their mouths gaped open and eyes pulled wide, shocked by her assertiveness. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was shaking all over.

  An uncomfortable chuckle rose from her throat. “I don’t know where that came from.”

  His brow hitched in agreement. “What exactly do you plan to gain from calling a meeting?”

  Hands on hip, she assured, “I have no idea, but I’m not going to sit here and play dead for the vultures while they circle over my damn head. I need them to back off.”

  Without saying another word, she retreated to her room.

  Phone in hand, Ember fell onto her bed, unloading the biggest exhale of her life. God, she needed to vent. She needed a friend.

  Ember – Are you and Chloe busy today? I could use a hug from my little munchkin.

  JC – Whose ass do I need to kick? Jenny and I are taking the kids to see Beauty and the Beast on Ice. Will tomorrow work?

  Ember – I just called a meeting with every buyer interested in the ranch. I need to work up a plan to politely request them to fuck off. It’s tomorrow at 4.

  JC – Oh boy. Come over tomorrow before your meeting. Noon?

  Ember – Sounds great. See you soon.

  The next day, Chloe’s dark ringlets bounced up and down, greeting Ember with an abundance of energy as she stepped out of the car. She swooped the little girl up in her arms and spun her in a circle, before going through their routine of Eskimo and butterfly kisses.

  “It’s so great to see you,” JC told her, making their way inside.

  “Looks like you’re getting all settled in,” Ember said, taking in their newly renovated ranch home.

  The five-bedroom home was decorated in a modern farmhouse style. Touches of light grays and blues were accentuated with twists of rustic elements of exposed beams and wood flooring throughout.

  “You know how much I love Malibu, but this place is so peaceful. There’s no traffic. Life just seems to move a little slower here.” JC grinned. “Enough about me. Tell me what’s going on?”

  Ember recanted details from the last week. JC listened intently, offering a giddy smile when she mentioned running into Nash. Keeping to the subject at hand, she continued, giving her the particulars of the meeting.

  “Mr. Montgomery is going to be with you, right?” JC questioned, drizzling a vinaigrette dressing over a spinach salad.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You’re going into a meeting with a bunch of men. Men that have a clear advantage because they know exactly what their talking about as opposed to you, who’s new to everything. Until two weeks ago, you didn’t know anything about ranching and you’ve never bought or sold a home let alone a ranch.”

  Chloe sat on her knees in the chair beside Ember, sneaking a cherry tomato from the bowl when JC turned her back to get plates and silverware.

  “You’re supposed to be making me feel better not worse.”

  “I’m getting there,” JC reassured, green eyes sparkling. “When I started landing big modeling gigs, I’d go into meetings feeling completely overwhelmed. Experience helped over time, but my step-dad Tom gave me great advice.”

  Ember’s brows perked with interest.

  “You have to walk in like you own the place, Ember. Use everything you have in your arsenal.”

  “Yeah, right. Like I have an arsenal. I should’ve brought my yoga mat. I could drop down to a downward-facing dog or lotus position.” Her eyes bulged mockingly.

  “I’m sure they’d enjoy your downward dog, but that’s not what I meant. No matter how nervous you are, you never let them know it. You walk in with your head high and pretend you’re the shizzle.”

  Insecurity slipped through small fissures of uncertainty growing inside. Ember grimaced. “I’m afraid I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”

  “You mean the meeting or the ranch?”

  Doubt reared its ugly head. Emotions stung her nose. “Both…the meeting…the ranch…take your pick.”

  “Don’t be silly. One little paternity test isn’t going to break my girl…not while I’m around. What are you wearing?”

  Ember waved a hand down the front of her flowy summer dress. “This.”

  JC cautioned her daughter, patting her ears, “Give mommy some earmuffs, sweetie.”

  Chloe bent forward at the counter and cupped the sides of her face in her palms of her hands, fingers covering her ears. Her bottom pointed north, wiggling happily. Ember winked and plucked a tomato from the salad, plopping it in the little girl’s mouth, earning her a big, juicy grin.

  “Bullshit!” JC drew out the word, extending each vowel.

  “Oh, come on, there’s nothing wrong with this dress.”

  “For a barbeque or girls’ lun
ch, it’s perfect. However, you are most definitely not wearing that to meet the pack of hyenas who are nipping at your heels just waiting for you to drop the ball.”

  “Great. It’s too late now. I didn’t bring anything business-ish with me from Austin.”

  JC pressed her palms together, fingers wiggling with excitement as she cackled, “Come with me, my pretty.”

  Moving into JC’s bedroom, Ember sank into the plush, blue velvet sofa. Chloe snuggled up to her side, humming her favorite nursery rhyme. JC moseyed into a closet the size of the average bedroom and appeared a few minutes later with several skirts dangling from the end of her finger. She tossed hanger after hanger onto her king-sized bed dressed in mounds of white bedding and a dozen pillows.

  “You’re a bit smaller than me, but I think some of these will fit.”

  Stripping down to her bra and panties, Ember tried on everything JC shoved at her. She didn’t dare ask but assumed by the name brands and quality that each article of clothing probably cost more than she made in a week. JC’s opulent lifestyle was merely the outer layer, a façade to a beautiful, giving heart. She was one of the most laid-back, caring women Ember had ever met, and she’d never once looked down on Ember because of their diverse lifestyles.

  After a couple of dresses and half a dozen skirts, they decided on the tailored navy skirt with an exposed zipper running down the back length, paired with a white camisole and sheer floral print blouse.

  JC emerged from the back of the closet with several pairs of high heels. Very tall high heels.

  “That’s going too far,” Ember warned. “I’m no good in heels that tall. Do you have anything shorter?”

  “Don’t make me throw your Birkenstocks in the pool.”

  Ember made a noise of disapproval, a groan in the back of her throat. “I’m not going to be able to walk. I’ll look like a baby giraffe.”

  JC cast her a look of bolstered irritation, followed by a few quick bats of her lashes. “They’re from Italy. Trust me, they’ll feel better on than you can imagine. You might even like them.”