All for a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

  After packing her dirty laundry in one of the duffels, she grabbed her purse, snapped off the lights and headed for Killer. She’d just opened the truck door when she heard Jordan call her name. He came jogging toward her from the direction of the barn.

  “I need your help.” Shae shoved her duffel into the truck without answering. “Clyde fell into a crevice.”

  The note of desperation in his voice stopped her from climbing into the truck. Slowly she turned back to face him.

  “I can’t reach him,” Jordan said in a taut voice. “He won’t stop yapping. I don’t want him to be dinner to a bobcat or something.”

  Shae let out a breath. “Where is he?”

  Jordan apparently sensed that the less said the better and gestured toward the trail leading to the meadow. Shae gave a solemn nod and reached under the truck seat to pull out a flashlight, which she held out to Jordan. He took it, his mouth twisting slightly as he did so.

  Humble pie ain’t no fun, is it?

  He headed off down the trail past the barn, walking so fast that Shae had to jog to keep up with him. She might be pissed at him, but she didn’t want anything to happen to his dog. By the time Jordan turned off the path to start climbing through the boulders and rocks that had once been part of an ancient landslide, Shae was winded, but she sucked it up and followed Jordan up the mountain. The flashlight bobbed up and down and Jordan climbed.

  “Clyde!” Jordan yelled and a sharp yap followed.

  “He’s down there a ways,” Shae said joining Jordan at the edge of the crevice. The dog was at least six feet below them.

  “I couldn’t come up with a way to reach him,” Jordan said. “I can’t climb like I used to be able to, and the rock gets too narrow.”

  “Yeah,” Shae said. “If I squeeze down there, I might be able to grab him.” She swung her legs over the edge and started easing herself down into the crack, wedging her feet against the opposite sides. She slipped and was startled by an ironlike grip on her wrist.

  “Thanks,” she said without looking at him as she regained her footing and started working her way down until she reached a point where she could wedge herself into a crouching position and lean down. Her fingers brushed curly fur. “Come on, you little mutt,” she murmured. “Here, Clyde. Nice Clyde.”

  The dog stood on his hind feet and licked Shae’s hand. She let out a breath and reached lower. Her shoulders scraped against the rock as her thighs started to shake from the effort of bracing herself. She stabbed her hand down, once again touched fur, stabbed again and caught his collar with one finger. “Hold...still...” She managed to lift the little dog just enough to slip another finger, then another, under the web collar.

  Slowly she worked herself back up to a crouching position, her shoulders rubbing painfully against the rough granite, pulling the squirming dog up into her lap as she collapsed back against the slab behind her. Clyde jumped to his feet as Jordan reached down with his good hand to take the dog from her.

  Shae started climbing back to the top, taking hold of Jordan’s wrist and allowing him to pull her up over the edge. “Thank you,” he said once she was on her feet. Clyde was leaping up and down at Jordan’s side and he reached down to scoop him up. The poodle licked his face joyously and Jordan smiled as he ruffled the dog’s fur. “No more squirrel chasing for you,” he muttered, holding the dog close for a moment. He met Shae’s eyes after he put Clyde back down on the ground.

  “Maybe you should carry him to avoid, you know...” Shae gestured toward the crack.

  Jordan picked the dog up again and held him under his arm. “Are you all right?” he asked, shining the light so he could see her face.

  “Fine,” she said. “I need to get to town.”

  Jordan stepped back and she started climbing back down toward the trail. Jordan followed, moving more slowly as he maneuvered around the rocks while holding Clyde. Once she reached the trail, Shae didn’t slow down to wait for him or the light. She wanted to get out of there. Away from Jordan, away from the way he made her feel.

  “Shae!”

  She didn’t slow down. She’d helped him out, done her duty. She was out of there. Apparently he didn’t get the memo, because he jogged until he caught up with her, the poodle still under one arm.

  “Wait.”

  Rolling her eyes, Shae slowed, then as he caught up with her, she stopped and turned. Once she was no longer moving, he seemed uncertain. Well, so was she. “I’m glad I could help. I like your dog. But I have to get to town.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. Tonight.”

  “It’ll be late when you get there.”

  “I have things to do in the morning.”

  They started walking and Shae couldn’t remember another time when she’d been so very conscious of a man she wasn’t touching.

  “I said some things today—”

  “That you meant at the time and you don’t mean now because I helped rescue your dog.” She didn’t want to get into this now, not when she was so aware of him. Not when she could still feel what his grip had felt like on her wrist, or how solid his chest had felt when he’d helped her off the rock. “Understood.”

  “Shae.”

  She didn’t slow down. She covered the last yards to the truck in silence.

  “You’re bleeding,” Jordan said when she jerked the truck door open, moving to where he could see the back of her white T-shirt by the truck’s interior light.

  “That’s just lichen and moss,” she said looking over her shoulder at the dark stains on her shirt, although now that she saw it, she had to admit it hurt.

  “And blood. Come on,” Jordan said, gesturing toward the house with his head. “Let me at least help you clean up. That’s a hard area to reach.”

  Shae pulled in a shallow breath and willed herself to resist this temptation, but the pulsing awareness between them made her feel as if she couldn’t move. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think straight.

  She had to move. To get out of there.

  “I’ll take care of the blood when I get back to my apartment.” She brushed past him to get into the truck.

  “Will you be back tomorrow?” he said, taking a step back but keeping his hand on the door as he waited for her answer.

  “Of course,” she said in a voice that didn’t come close to echoing the wild thoughts that were swirling through her head. “But we’re going back to the way things were. You working your horses and me making plans to ruin your life.”

  “Thanks for helping me with Clyde,” he said, ignoring her dig.

  “What else could I do?”

  “You could have said no.”

  She let out a breath, shook her head. “I shouldn’t have told Miranda about your nightmares,” she said, surprising the hell out of herself. “I need to go.”

  Before they traveled any further down this road. Before she said, yes, take care of the scrapes on my back. Just let me just take my shirt off....

  Jordan stepped away from the truck. She closed the door, started the engine and snapped on the headlights, the beams cutting the darkness. Jordan stood off to the side with Clyde while she swung the truck in a circle and then slowly started up the drive, wondering why she felt as if she’d just made one hell of a mistake.

  What would it feel like to be touched by Jordan Bryan in a caring way?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JORDAN DIDN’T HAVE a nightmare, but he didn’t sleep, either. Yesterday he’d let his hatred for Miranda spill over and poison yet another part of his life. He’d verbally attacked Shae, instantly assumed that she’d maliciously reported his nightmares to Miranda. Frigging Miranda had probably worked it out of her.

  Or so he hoped. He was startled by how badly he didn’t want Shae to have discussed his nightmare with Miranda.
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  He owed her for Clyde. And more than that, while they’d been arguing at the truck last night, he’d wanted to touch her. To take her into the house, treat the scrapes she’d gotten helping him. To put his lips on her skin, make it better. The thought rocked him and ruined him.

  Jordan lingered over coffee instead of heading directly to the round pen—coffee made on Shae’s hot plate since his ancient stove had chosen that morning to give up the ghost. It was about twice as old as he was, bought new by his grandmother, so it was time. Just not a convenient time. He’d deliver the fillies back to Claiborne in a few weeks, and he’d hoped to use his paycheck for something other than a stove.

  He saw the rooster trail of dust come up over the rise before he heard Shae’s truck and got to his feet, his pulse rate bumping up as he set down his cup. The pig poked her nose through the front-yard fence and Jordan pulled the gate shut as he walked through, shutting both her and Clyde inside. Clyde gave a yip, but Jordan didn’t slow down as he headed for where she’d parked next to the bunkhouse. He wanted to get this over with, and he hoped that once he was face-to-face with Shae, he’d figure out just what it was he wanted to say.

  Shae pulled her backpack out of the passenger seat as he approached, then stilled as she caught sight of him. Her hair was clipped up and she wore makeup, but he could see the lines of tension around her eyes. She hadn’t slept any better than he had. Yesterday had been hard on her, too. She reached out to swing the truck door closed, then stood where she was, waiting for him to make the first move, somehow sensing that it was his turn to do something...if only he knew what it was.

  So what did he say now? How did he make the peace?

  He finally said, “You made some valid points yesterday.” Lame, but truthful. Robert Browning he wasn’t. She nodded but said nothing in response, which kind of left the ball in his court. “I just wanted to tell you,” he added.

  “Is that kind of like an apology?” she finally asked with a clip in her voice.

  “Yeah. I wanted to...apologize...before you go to work for the day—”

  “Destroying your ranch?” The words were sarcastic, her expression a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

  This other side of Shae was getting to him in a way he hadn’t expected—a way that wouldn’t play out well for either of them, he ventured to guess. “Your words,” he said.

  “No. Yours. More than once.”

  “Guilty.” He echoed what she’d said to him yesterday, hoped she took it the right way.

  She looked down at the ground for a moment, her slim fingers lightly gripping the leather strap of her backpack, as if debating a course of action. When she looked up at him, her expression was once again candid. “I’ve been thinking things over. For most of the night, actually.” Her lips tightened as she brushed her fingers under her eyes. “It shows, doesn’t it?”

  “You look good, Shae.” He didn’t know where that came from or why he said, but it was true.

  Surprise crossed her features, and then she said, again with a touch of wariness, “Thank you.”

  It was nothing but the truth. She did always look good. But whereas she’d looked shellacked before, now she looked...real...as in real damned good. And it wasn’t makeup or the lack of makeup or anything like that...it was deeper than that. She could gussy herself up and her hair could be perfect, like today, and he’d still see a different woman—the one who was now staring at him.

  “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

  “How much I dislike being in the middle of this...thing between you and Miranda.” She adjusted the backpack’s shoulder strap.

  “If I could have gotten a job elsewhere in my field, I wouldn’t be.” She fingered the strap again. “Maybe I should have been more patient...and I might have been if there hadn’t been other circumstances.”

  “What kind of circumstances?” he asked.

  “Private ones,” she said just before the sound of an engine brought their heads up. Jordan stepped back to where he could see the drive, a deep frown forming as he recognized a Cedar Creek Ranch truck.

  Apparently he was about to fight another battle—this one on home turf. Shae came to stand beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness shooting through him as the truck parked on the opposite side of the Subaru.

  The door opened, but instead of Miranda, as he’d expected, a neatly dressed young woman wearing a white shirt and jeans got out, standing for a moment with her hands on her hips, surveying the place, apparently looking for signs of life.

  Shae put a palm to her chest. “Gee,” she said softly. “Too bad the pig isn’t out.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S SHE DOING HERE?” Jordan asked. Shae found herself moving even closer to him, drawing strength from his proximity.

  “Heaven only knows,” Shae said, watching as Ashley, who hadn’t yet spotted them, started for the house, then stopped dead at the gate when she caught sight of the pig. “But I’m not getting that good-news feeling.” She shot him a quick glance, then with a fatalistic shake of her head, started toward the house.

  “Ashley. Hi,” she called. The expression on Ashley’s face didn’t help relieve any of her growing tension.

  “Hello,” the girl said cautiously, glancing at the pig, then back at Shae. “Sorry about the surprise arrival, but it’s impossible to call, you know.”

  “Yes. Unfortunate.”

  “Miranda has sent me over to act as your assistant until the project is complete,” Ashley announced in an I’m-the-new-teacher’s-pet voice.

  “She mentioned she might do that,” Shae said, doing her best to play the game and look pleased to have help.

  “Yes. This way Miranda will get nightly progress reports.”

  “Whoa,” Shae said lightly. “That almost sounds like a threat.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Shae curved her lips into an ironic smile. “A joke, Ashley. I was making a joke.” Except that she hadn’t been. If Miranda was sending an assistant for a job that didn’t call for an assistant, then her career with Cedar Creek Enterprises was probably on very shaky ground. Why? Had Jordan said something to make Miranda think her loyalties were shifting? Had she? Was this a test to make certain she was a Jordan adversary?

  “So,” Ashley said brightly. “Do you want to bring me up to speed?”

  “Certainly,” Shae said, opening the gate and letting the pig out. Ashley froze as Miss Piggy sniffed at her pant leg, squinted up at her, then went about her business. “Let’s go to the bunkhouse. I can show you the plans, then we can tour around.”

  Ashley glanced over her shoulder a couple times as they walked toward the bunkhouse. Shae thought about telling the girl that the pig didn’t have teeth, but decided against it.

  “First, let me explain the general plan and then we can get to work on the cabins.” Shae wrinkled her nose at Ashley’s shirt. “You probably shouldn’t wear white here.”

  “Oh. Uh, yes,” she said looking down at the pristine shirt. “I didn’t know I was coming until a little while ago.”

  By the time they left the bunkhouse, Jordan was working the palomino in the round pen, cantering slow circles before he set out on his hour-long daily trail ride. Ashley stopped to watch him, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  “Does he bother you much?”

  “I ignore him. Miranda said to work around him and that’s what I do.” Shae led the way to the cabins she’d put off tackling. If she had an assistant, why not take advantage of it?

  “Where does Jordan keep his livestock?” Ashley asked, sounding as if she had a mental list of items to check off.

  “The horses in the north pasture, the pig in the yard.” Shae gestured for the woman to precede her into the cabin.

  “Does he keep livesto
ck in the barn?”

  “The barn is leased to Miranda.”

  “So his horses have no shelter.”

  “Well,” Shae said slowly. “They are horses, and it is summer.”

  “What about the horse that’s in the barn corral now?”

  “She’s mine.” Any doubts Shae had about whether or not Ashley was there to spy were now rapidly dissipating. “We need to clear enough stuff out of the cabins to get some accurate measurements, check for rodent infestations and water damage.”

  “The roof looks good,” Ashley murmured.

  “It’s fairly new,” Shae agreed. “Jordan’s dad took care of the place.” She pointed across the room. “We also have to measure all the windows—nothing is standard size in these cabins. They even vary a lot from one to the other. And doors. They’ll probably have to be custom-made if we can’t use the originals.” Which would run into the pricier range—not that Miranda cared as she proceeded on her seek-and-destroy-Jordan mission. Shae walked over to the pile of dusty lumber sitting in the middle of the room. “Why don’t you take that end and we can stack these boards outside one at a time.”

  Ashley, who’d obviously not planned to move lumber, gave Shae a dubious look.

  “Would you like to borrow a shirt?” Shae asked.

  “Uh...no.” She bent down and gingerly took hold of the dusty board. Shae did the same and they awkwardly carried it outside the cabin. After setting it down, Shae led the way back in the cabin to move the next board.

  “So, Ashley,” Shae said as they walked, “what is your education? What prepares you to do this job?”

  Ashley set down her end of the board, then attempted to brush dirt off her white shirt without rubbing it in, which was futile. “I have a two-year degree in resort management and now I’m studying prelaw.”

  “Your parents must be proud.”

  “Are you mocking me?” Ashley asked cautiously as they walked back into the building.

  “Why would I mock you?” Shae asked on a note of surprise. Other than to express my general distaste of someone sent here to spy on me. She smiled at Ashley. “No. Really. I have a friend studying law. I know how intense it can be, especially in tandem with another job.”