by Jeannie Watt
Wallace didn’t instantly endorse her theory, as she’d expected. “That probably depends on economics and how well you do Mel’s job.”
And whether or not she was still seeing Jordan—apparently Miranda hadn’t shared that tidbit with Wallace. “I guess I’ll work extra hard, then.”
Shae held out a hand over the top of the desk. “Good luck with your new venture, Wally.” She smiled roguishly, even though she was dying inside. “I can call you Wally now?”
“No one calls me Wally and lives to tell about it,” he said with a smile. “Good luck to you, too.”
“Thanks.” She started for the door, then stopped with her hand on the knob. “Any chance that you’ll need a go-getter employee such as myself?”
Wallace shook his head. “I’ll be a one-man band for a while.”
“Just thought I’d give it a shot.”
“Sorry, kid.”
Work wouldn’t be the same without Wallace and Mel, and life wasn’t the same without Jordan in it full-time. In fact, it felt pretty damned empty.
* * *
THE PROBLEM WITH being on the ranch alone while the invaders worked around him was that he had no one to vent to, and after finally allowing himself to open up to Shae, he found he missed it. He, who’d kept everything bottled up for so long, had become a talker—at least where she was concerned. But she wasn’t there and he did his best to keep his anger at what was going on around him contained. Not easy when Ashley had a small crew coming every day. For the most part he walked around the place as if he had tunnel vision. It was the only way he could function.
On Monday, Jordan delivered the horses to Claiborne with the help of Cole, who’d seemed more than happy not only to lend him a trailer and truck but to come along for the ride. The talk stayed general until Jordan once again apologized for sending Cole home after the cross-country flight and Cole told him that if he mentioned it again, he was going to have to do something about it.
Claiborne was happy with the horses, paid the money he owed, and then he and Jordan negotiated a deal for sixty days on three older mares. Cole told Jordan he was crazy for taking them on, Jordan agreed, then after delivering the horses to the High Camp, he and Cole bought a new stove for the ranch. Once the stove was in place, Cole took his leave, but not before suggesting that Jordan might want to invest in a vehicle more in tune with his lifestyle.
Jordan had to agree that the Subaru was close to the end of its usefulness, but it would take quite a few more colts before he had enough for a used truck. He could wait. He was patient...with everything except waiting for Shae to show up Friday night.
* * *
AFTER A LONG week working with Gerald on a publicity campaign aimed at getting buyers to invest in new guest-ranch properties, Shae drove past the exit to her apartment and straight out to the High Camp.
Jordan met her at the truck, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, washing away the last of her doubts about how she felt about the man. She loved him. Simple as that. She wouldn’t have been so certain if she hadn’t first thought she’d loved Reed. She had, but not like this. Not with the feeling that having him near made her complete. And she’d never before had a relationship with a guy who didn’t eventually bend to her will when she got insistent—or at least bend to her will a couple of times before he walked away.
Jordan wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to bend and she wasn’t going to push things—not like she had with Reed.
“I missed you,” she muttered against his mouth before starting to unbutton his shirt.
“Maybe we should wait until we get into the house?” he asked with a laugh.
“Details.” But she patted his chest and allowed him to get her backpack out of the Audi, which had once again been punished by the High Camp road.
“I didn’t know whether I’d see you or not,” he said after ushering her inside.
Shae responded by backing him toward the bedroom as soon as the door was closed. He dropped her pack as she worked on his buttons while they moved down the hall. Clothing began hitting the floor and then the bed creaked under their combined weight.
“I really missed you,” Shae said, clutching his head as he began a slow, sensual exploration of her body with his mouth.
“Me or my tongue?” he muttered.
“Don’t make me choose,” she said on a sigh.
For the next half hour, everything was right in her world. All the misgivings, all the worries, gone. Afterward, they didn’t bother to get out of bed, but instead talked until moonlight spilled across the room and Clyde insisted that it was time for him to come in.
The weekend continued that way. There were signs of the renovation beginning, which Jordan pointedly ignored as they walked to the corrals where Jordan had a new crop of horses from Claiborne—and the palomino, which he’d agreed to put sixty more days on.
“Ashley told me to get rid of the horses. I told her to take a flying leap. I think I’m about to get a visit from that lawyer in the beaver hat.”
“I’m sure.”
It’d always been obvious to Shae that Jordan loved training, but he seemed even more satisfied now that he’d finished his first contract and had negotiated a new one at a higher rate of pay; it was evident in the way his expression lit up when he talked about his new charges and Shae found herself smiling as she listened to him. In that regard he was so different from when she’d first showed up. He now had a purpose—besides getting Miranda off his property—and training was something that he could do anywhere. He didn’t need to be at the High Camp and, as Shae took advantage of Jordan’s late-afternoon shower to assess the progress made on the buildings, she became convinced that he probably shouldn’t be at the High Camp. Not unless he could get into the swing of having people coming and going, invading his territory, because the renovations were getting serious. She knew he still held out hope that something would happen. That maybe people wouldn’t be interested in Miranda’s unique experience and the place would fold.
Miranda would keep the place operational anyway. Shae was utterly certain now that the animosity between the two was so bitter that she’d run the High Camp guest ranch at a loss just to get back at Jordan.
Which made her uneasy.
Could she live with him fighting Miranda full-time?
The woman was malignant and her poison would spread out, take over their lives...as it had already taken over Jordan’s.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JORDAN MADE A grocery run on Wednesday afternoon, leaving the ranch fifteen minutes after the last of Ashley’s crew pulled out. He would not have those people on the ranch when he wasn’t there, so it was going to be a flying trip. There were several twenty-four-hour grocery stores, but he’d have to drive fast to get to the pharmacy before it closed.
The traffic was with him, so he made it with time to spare, hit the feed store before it closed for more pig mash and grain—one bag of each, since it was all he could carry in the Subaru—and then did his grocery shopping. It was almost nine when he called Shae. He’d hoped to take her out to dinner, but there simply wasn’t time.
“Of course,” she said when he asked if he could stop by. She gave her address and fifteen minutes later he pulled up behind the Audi at her apartment complex.
She greeted him with a kiss and smile, then ushered him into the apartment. Jordan stopped just inside the door, taking in the leather furniture, glass coffee tables, modern art on the walls. When he glanced over at Shae she smirked at him. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a conspicuous consumer,” she said, closing the door. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the charms of a bunkhouse with no plumbing.”
“How about the cowboy that goes with the place?”
“I find myself appreciating him, too,” she said with a smile before gesturing
toward the other side of the room with her head. “I need to close down shop. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to town? We could have grabbed something to eat.”
“I didn’t want to leave until the crew was gone,” he said, following her through the arched entryway to the dining room, where she turned off her laptop. Papers and a few aerial photos were scattered across the table.
“Pretty busy?”
“Yeah. My friend Mel took a leave of absence, so I’m doing her job.”
“Along with yours?”
“No,” Shae said, closing the lid of the laptop. “Just hers.”
“So when she comes back...?” he asked darkly.
Shae leaned on the table, her shirt gaping at the neck, giving him a pretty good look at what he’d been missing since she left. “I’ll be gone by then. I’m actively job hunting.”
“Good. I hate you working for the bitch.” Not that he was going to tell her what to do, but he did hate it and wasn’t going to be shy about sharing his feelings.
“Working for her at the office is no different than me working for her at the ranch,” she pointed out.
“It’s different when you’re with me. I know you’re on my side.”
Shae’s eyebrows rose and for a moment he found himself facing the old Shae. The Shae who told you how it was going to be and if you didn’t like it you could kiss her ass. “You think I’m going to change sides?” she asked.
“No, damn it. What I meant was that when you’re with me I know...” He suddenly realized she was messing with him.
“What do you know?” she asked archly.
“Screw it.” He reached out and took her face between his hands and kissed her, long and hard, trying to convey his feelings on the matter without words, which he had never been good at. He wanted her with him. While she was there, he felt...better. More whole. “I know that we care about each other,” he finally said as he pulled his lips from hers. “That you have my back and I have yours. That’s what I meant by being on my side.” One corner of his mouth tightened ruefully. “I worry about all the shit Miranda might pull on you when we’re not together.”
“As opposed to the shit she pulls when we are together?” she asked with a hint of amusement. “I can handle it.”
He’d debated on and off about asking her to stay there with him at the High Camp until she could find another job, but he knew her financial situation, knew that the wedding bills were killing her. And besides that, it was too soon, much as he would have loved having her there full-time.
“Can you stay the night?” she asked, flattening her palms against the front of his Carhartt jacket and leaning toward him.
“I’d have to leave early tomorrow. I don’t want to be away from the ranch at all while Miranda’s crew is there,” he said. “I worry about my horses...the pig...Clyde.”
There was more to it than that and they both knew it, but Shae was apparently going to take what he could give, because she took hold of the front of his coat and started backing toward her bedroom. She left the light off, so he wasn’t able to gage the level of her conspicuous consumption in that room, but he did notice that the mattress was a shade better than his own and the comforter felt as if it was made of satin or silk. And after that he didn’t think about much of anything except for Shae.
“Are you sure you have to go?” she asked sleepily several hours later as she escorted him to the door. “It isn’t like you’re punching a time clock.”
Jordan leaned down to kiss her. “I’m territorial. I can’t help it.”
“Not a problem.” She bit her lip, holding back whatever it was she wanted to say.
I love you, Shae.
He didn’t say it. It wasn’t time and he didn’t want to complicate her life any more than he already was. Instead he kissed her again and then turned and walked down the hall.
* * *
JORDAN’S SELF-PROFESSED territoriality ate at Shae for the remainder of the week. What kind of life was he going to have living at the High Camp, defending his part of the property against Miranda and her minions? Surrounded by people who wanted him gone, or guests who would expect him to be friendly? Would the mental and physical toll be worth the satisfaction of standing up to Miranda?
Despite her workload, the days passed slowly, giving her too much time to think. She had to work late on Friday and when she finally arrived at the High Camp, close to ten o’clock, Jordan was waiting for her on the porch with the pig and the poodle.
“I was getting worried,” he said, taking her bag before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close for a kiss. The pig snorted at her leg and Clyde danced in front of her.
“Just a late workday,” she said as they walked into the house. “We have a new property we’re developing a campaign for and sometimes that runs into extra hours.” She stilled once they were inside and she got a good look at him in the light.
“Damn, Jordan.” She ran a critical eye over him, taking in the taut lines around his eyes and mouth that showed even though he was halfway smiling.
“I’m no prize.”
Shae shook her head, refusing to let him sidetrack her. “You look like you’ve been having nightmares on a regular basis.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you?”
“I’m living in a nightmare, Shae. Wait until daylight and you’ll see.”
“They’re doing a lot?”
“They’re building boardwalks, planting shrubs, doing all kinds of cutesy shit. The damned place is going to look like an Old West movie set when they’re done.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Shae said.
“Well, it is now.”
Jordan fell asleep almost as soon as they’d finished making love, his arm looped over her holding her close, but Shae couldn’t relax, couldn’t sleep. Determination was a wonderful thing—until it became obsessive and self-destructive. Jordan was stressed to the max, he was having nightmares and Shae had a bad feeling that this was only the beginning of the hell he’d go through if he continued to fight Miranda.
The next morning they walked to the corrals, past a group of men working on flooring in the cabins. Another man was tacking a facade onto the bathhouse.
“That’s not a repair,” Shae said.
“They can do anything they want that can be removed prior to my taking back the property,” Jordan said sourly. “Emery checked into the matter.”
“How can you stay here?” she finally asked. “With all this going on?”
“How can I not?”
She turned toward him, waiting until a contractor carrying a power saw walked by before saying, “As long as you stay here fighting her, you’re never going to have any kind of life. You’re going to have a vendetta.”
His chin jerked up. “Bull. I’ll make a life here. And I’ll figure out a way to get her sideshow off my property.”
“You haven’t yet,” she said reasonably. “Neither has your lawyer.”
“What are you saying?”
Shae stopped walking and turned to put her palms on his chest. “I’m saying that maybe, at some point in the future, we should talk about an exit strategy.”
“A what?” he asked.
Shae hesitated, which was so out of character for her when she had something important to say, but she had to tread lightly if she was going to get Jordan to listen to her. “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now. Miranda has more money, a better lawyer, and a driving need to make you unhappy. Why subject yourself to this fight?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do?”
“It might also be right to start a life somewhere else. Somewhere where every waking moment isn’t overshadowed by ‘beating the bitch.’”
“I’m not leaving, Shae.”
“You’d rather h
ave a vendetta than a life?”
“I’d rather keep what’s mine,” he said harshly. “I don’t want to waste what little time we have together arguing about something that isn’t going to happen.”
They saddled Jordan’s horses and rode the mountain trail in silence, Shae wishing the entire time that she had a way to make Jordan realize that protecting his ranch at all costs from a woman who had the resources to make him miserable for twelve more years was crazy. But one look at his tight jaw and the distant look in his eye told her that this wasn’t the time to press the matter.
It was killing her not to. Only by conjuring up images of Reed, and every other guy she’d bent to her will when she really shouldn’t have, did she manage to keep her mouth shut. She’d said her piece and now it was up to him...but that knowledge didn’t keep Shae from riding home feeling as if she had a rock in the pit of her stomach.
What was he willing to sacrifice to stay on the ranch and show Miranda that she couldn’t control him? His happiness?
Hers?
A question worth pursuing.
* * *
AFTER SHAE LEFT early Sunday afternoon, Jordan went into the bathroom to get the watch he’d left on the windowsill, catching a good look at himself in the mirror as he went by. He stopped abruptly and backed up to study his reflection for a moment. He’d gained weight since coming back to the High Camp and the good side of his face was tanned rather than pale, but his expression—holy shit. He looked as if he was about to murder someone. Stress, plain and simple.
All right, he admitted as he grabbed his watch and headed for the back door, Shae had cause to be worried, but she didn’t need to push him to give up the ranch. He had no problem disagreeing or arguing or working out a compromise on any matter except this one. There was too much at stake here. His future, his pride. His deep, deep need to win somehow.
