Her Fated Cowboy (Harland County Series)

by Donna Michaels

  The rotund woman’s pretty blue eyes misted over as she smiled. “You only missed my cookies.”

  “That’s not true. Well, at least not completely.” With a wink, she procured one from the counter and promptly took a bite. Moaning as the chocolate melted in her mouth, she noticed Emma’s face light up at her obvious enjoyment.

  “Oh it sure is good to see you again, Jordan.” As the cook’s thoughts changed, so did her smile, casting a shadow over her features. “Maybe now there’s hope for Cole.” Sighing, Emma wiped her hands in her red and white checkered apron but remained silent.

  About to ask her to elaborate, Jordan closed her mouth and curbed her curiosity when her mother and sister waltzed in.

  “I thought I might find you in here.” Her mother grinned. “You never could resist Emma’s cookies.”

  “Me either,” Kerri exclaimed and received an identical bear hug to the one Jordan had gotten a few minutes earlier.

  “Kerri! My little Kerri,” Emma cried, holding Kerri to her chest before she stepped back to eye her young protégé. She split her glance between them. “You are both just beautiful.” She handed Kerri a cookie. “Here. You’d better take this before your sister eats them all.”

  “Don’t laugh. I’d be more than happy to rid you of these delectable morsels,” Jordan admitted, biting into her third one.

  There they stood, chocolate smeared on their fingers and faces, laughing just like old times when, just like old times, Cole and Connor entered the kitchen.

  Smiling brown eyes rolled, while a pair of cold, dark ones scowled. Cole ignored them and dropped his water bottle into the sink. Connor, however, faced them with a lop-sided grin and glaring dimple.

  “I guess it’d be foolish to ask if you left me a cookie?”

  Jordan blinked. “Oh? Was I supposed to save you one, Connor?”

  “No.” he chuckled. “I remember only too well that when the Masters sisters are around, Emma’s chocolate chip cookies are on the endangered list.”

  “So is peace and quiet,” Cole muttered as he passed her on his way to the door.

  Knowing the low spoken barb had been meant for her, Jordan tried not to let it hurt and concentrated on the other brother still in the room.

  His glance strayed to her sister. Indifference replaced a flash of admiration so fast she almost missed the evidence of his inner battle.

  But she hadn’t.

  “I’ll see you all at dinner,” Connor muttered quickly before leaving the room.

  These McCall brothers are a mess.

  Jordan was beginning to think she arrived just in time. They needed her help. Big time.

  But would two weeks be enough?

  Chapter Three

  Visible through a large dining room picture window, a brilliant orange sunset streaked the darkening sky and left him…cold. A few years ago, Cole wouldn’t have hesitated to stand there until all light faded—completely in awe, and warmed by nature’s beauty. Not now. The scenery didn’t produce so much as a flicker of heat. Time was better spent writing code that brought life to a computer screen and profits to the bank.

  He didn’t need beauty or people or this dinner with the Masters. Exertion was what he needed. He’d much rather spend time with the mountain of work piled in his home office. Although he had no problem with being rude, he wouldn’t embarrass his mother by leaving.

  Reluctantly, he took his seat around the long oak table set with blue and purple linens, a decoration no doubt for the girls. He snapped out his napkin and shoved it on his lap while the McCalls and Masters talked over old times and caught up on times missed. Everyone contributed to the conversation, except him. His body ached, and the heaviness in his head increased. The day had been long and tiring. He had absolutely no desire to speak.

  Too exhausted to even taste Emma’s specially prepared roast duck, he stabbed the poultry with his fork and ate anyway. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could leave. Once dinner was through, he’d say a polite goodnight, then retreat as he did every night to his home office down the hall.

  At his family’s suggestion, he’d sold the house he and Bess had lived in and moved back to the ranch. Not that it had taken much persuasion. He couldn’t stand coming home to an empty house every night. All he required then and now was a place to sleep—when he did sleep—and a place to work when he was away from the office.

  Sitting across from him in her old seat, Jordan reached for her wine and regarded him as if he were a wounded stray.

  He stiffened.

  Christ.

  He was in trouble. She had that I’m-going-to-help-you look. He didn’t want her help, didn’t need her help…didn’t fuckin’ ask for her help. The pest was in way over her head and couldn’t possibly help him. No one can.

  Teeth clenched, he dropped his gazed to his plate before she could read his thoughts.

  When they were young, she was the only one who could tell if he was lying. He’d rarely been able to pull one over on her…a trait he used to admire. She had been a challenge he couldn’t resist.

  His lips twisted. But not now. The last thing he wanted was Jordan Masters’ fuckin’ discerning ability to see into his soul.

  Earlier, when she’d been on the balcony and their eyes had met, it’d felt like they’d communicated without talking. Warmth and comfort had beckoned, along with a sudden, deep urge to go to her and open up like he used to. Thankfully, common sense had returned in time and he’d strode off in the opposite direction.

  No amount of talking would make him happy.

  He didn’t deserve happy.

  “So, Jordan.”

  His father’s voice cut through his dire thoughts and he lifted his gaze.

  “Your parents tell me you’ve become quite the business woman, splitting your time between that and the police force.”

  Jordan was still on the force?

  Swallowing his surprise with a mouthful of duck, he wondered how she’d managed. Sympathy squeezed his hard-edged heart. She must’ve gone through hell. Despite himself, his eyes sought her face.

  A whooshing sped through his ears.

  Her animated expression and the way her lips moved as she responded to the statement, stole his breath. Long, thick, silky dark hair fell to her waist, warm, brown almond-shaped eyes gleamed with life. God, he could get lost in those eyes. Not wanting to feel anything for anyone, especially Jordan, Cole tore his gaze away, then stamped out the sympathy and everything else she sparked.

  Damn nuisance woman.

  She was the only female he knew who could talk about work and make it sound sexy. Hell! She could read the ingredients off a bottle of PMS medication and every man in the store would stand in line to buy one. Grabbing his glass, he gulped down half the wine.

  Big damn nuisance.

  “I hear the restaurant you and your sister opened has established quite a clientele.”

  His brows wanted to rise. He fought the urge and won, cocking his chin instead. The idea of those two girls in the restaurant business together, made sense to him. When Kerri was a kid, she could always be found shadowing Emma. And Jordan’s knack for taking charge and bossing people around was perfect managerial material.

  “What’s the name of it?” Connor asked between bites.

  “Comets,” Kerri replied.

  His brother chuckled. “What a perfect name for a restaurant owned by you two. Like a comet, you’re both beautiful but stubborn and once you’re on course, you’re unstoppable.”

  Cole smirked and broke his silence. “Truer words…”

  The room stilled for an instant before shouts of laughter filled the air.

  “Well,” Jordan turned her teasing gaze on him. “I did have a good role model.”

  He ignored the dig and leaned back in his chair. She could try all she wanted, but he wasn’t biting. He wasn’t in the mood.

  As if sensing the tension, his father set an elbow on the table and shifted closer.

  “Jordan, d
o you do any cooking at the restaurant?”

  Thankfully, her upbringing saved him when good manners forced her to transfer her gaze to his father.

  “Oh my, no. Kerri is the one with that particular talent. As a matter of fact” —she pointed toward their kitchen— “she got her start right here in your house. Emma sparked that desire in her.”

  His mother smiled at Kerri, a dinner roll poised in her hand. “I remember many an afternoon I’d see you in there helping Emma out with supper.”

  “Yes.” Light glimmered off Kerri’s sleek dark hair as she nodded. “I learned a great many things from her they never taught in school.”

  Helping himself to more roast duck, his father continued to grill the older sister. “Well then Jordan, I take it you handle the managerial side of the business.

  “Yes. I do the books, payroll, order supplies, bartend, hostess and generally fill in where needed, whenever possible around my police shifts, of course. My minor in business has definitely proved to be the right choice.”

  Like a gust of wind, her gaze fastened on him and air escaped his lungs.

  “I hear you’ve become quite the tycoon, Cole. Maybe you could give me a few pointers?”

  Unhappily drawn into the conversation, he answered through tight lips. “I highly doubt you would listen to anything I said, Jordan, so why bother?” He shoved a forkful of garlic potatoes in his mouth, hoping she’d take the hint and drop the conversation.

  He should have known better.

  “Why, Cole,” Jordan began softly, placing her elbows on the table and chin in her hands. “Surely you remember how it used to be my sole practice to listen to you with baited breath?”

  The batting of her dark eyes caused an unwelcome tightening in his groin.

  Completely irritated by her behavior and, moreover, his body’s reaction, Cole dropped his fork and leaned forward. “Quit the games, Jordan. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I am not interested.” He sat back and waited for her anger.

  It never came.

  Genuine amusement lit her face and his fingers balled into fists. Christ. What the hell was wrong with her? The woman was not stupid. She knew he was pissed, but still she kept at him.

  “Jeez, lighten up, Cole. I was only joking with you.” She had the audacity to laugh. “You do remember how to joke, don’t you? Besides, you don’t seriously think I’m still interested in you that way, do you?” An eat-your-heart-out smile graced her lips. “You should be so lucky.”

  “Okay, you two,” her father said with a smirk “You might as well stop now because neither one of you will get ahead of the other.”

  Grateful for the intervention, Cole inhaled, then slowly exhaled. He wasn’t sure he could keep his cool much longer.

  “You’re right, dad. But for the record,” she paused and pointed a finger. “Cole started it!”

  Connor’s bark of laughter momentarily drowned out female giggles and their fathers’ shared chuckle.

  He didn’t find Jordan’s childishness amusing. How much more nonsense did he have to endure? He was trying his best to stick it out until desert, but it seemed to be a losing battle.

  “Jordan, do you still like to sing?” his mother asked.

  Jordan touched the napkin to her lips. “Yes, I do on occasion. We have a piano at the restaurant and on the weekends we showcase local talent. Sometimes I get to sing backup, or play the piano or guitar. Even Kerri joins in once and a while. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Yeah.” Kerri nodded. “All those lessons as a child actually paid off.”

  Jordan’s warm gaze returned to him. “And all of those duets and private lessons Cole gave me were good practice, too.”

  Private lessons? He reluctantly recalled their combined music instruction.

  At Jordan’s urging, he’d even taken it upon himself to teach her how to play the guitar. She had a great voice to go with it too, although, back then he’d never admit it, choosing to tease her instead. Of course, she’d tease back.

  His lips twitched. One thing was for sure, Jordan Masters always gave as good as she got. Heat invaded his groin as he wondered if that included other venues?

  Annoyed with himself, he shifted in his seat. Jesus. He did not want to be attracted to her. Or anyone. He wasn’t worthy. He dropped his gaze and concentrated on the rest of his meal.

  “I always thought the two of you sounded great together.”

  Connor had a death wish.

  “I can remember countless barbeques and parties where you two would sing, even if you weren’t asked to.” His brother’s grin spread into a broad smile as a brilliant thought apparently invaded his mind.

  Cole cringed.

  “Maybe you could do a duet for mom and dad at their party? You know, for old time sake?”

  Ah, fuck!

  Their dad sat up straight. “What a wonderful idea, Connor. What do you say, you two?” Eyes wide, his father’s gaze bounced between him and Jordan.

  “Oh Cole, I’d love to hear you sing again. That would be the best present you could give us. Would you please?” his mother begged, eyes full of hope.

  Guilt stabbed his heart with dozens of tiny daggers. He glared at his brother, cursing him for making that stupid suggestion and Jordan for bringing up their past.

  Snapping his gaze to hers, he noted her furrowed brow and blinking eyes. Good for her. It was her fault they were in this situation. She should’ve kept her pretty mouth shut.

  Pretty?

  When the hell had he noticed she had a pretty mouth? Lowering his gaze to her lips, he swallowed and revised pretty to perfect. Her mouth wasn’t too wide or too small, too thin or too full. She had the kind of mouth a man would love to kiss and feel caressing his body.

  Once upon a time, long ago, he’d had a quick taste…

  Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. His groin stirred as did a distinct moment of deja vu. Sucking in air, he recalled a similar reaction in their past.

  A few weeks before she’d moved, they’d taken the horses to the beach as usual, but when they got there and dismounted, she’d grabbed his hat and ran. Forced to tackle after a few minutes of chasing, he’d turned her over and pinned her down in the warm sand. The strongest urge to rub his thumb over her lower lip and taste her sweetness had gripped him, hard. So he did. She’d tasted sweet and hot and innocent and adoring.

  It’d knocked him on his ass.

  If Connor, Kerri, and their friends hadn’t arrived, to this day Cole wasn’t sure what else he would’ve done. He’d thought he had things under control but one look at her wild eyes and invitingly sweet mouth and his control had disappeared. She had nearly been seventeen and he’d been nineteen, and his lust-induced mind had reasoned it was okay. He’d never felt anything so intense before or, if he was honest, since.

  Until now.

  Mustering strength, he tore his gaze from her mouth and glanced at his plate. Unacceptable. He hadn’t had a sexual thought for another woman since he’d met Bess. Guilt flooded strong and swift. He sat back and clenched his fists.

  What the fuck was wrong with him? He had no right to…

  Lifting his gaze, he realized everyone waited for his reply. “I haven’t played the guitar or done any singing in years. Besides....” He cocked his head and did his best to get out of the duet. “Haven’t you hired a professional for that, Dad?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you both sang a song or two.”

  His dad was no help. Only one chance left. Jordan. Great. He was forced to rely on an enemy to be an ally. Still, he had to try.

  “You forget Jordan is here to help with the catering and set up of this party. She has more than enough work to do. Isn’t that right?” He looked at her somewhat startled face. It was all he could come up with and hoped she’d take his lead and nip this stupid idea in the bud. Holding her unblinking gaze, he willed her to take the hint.

  Several emotions chased themselves across those exotic-shaped,
chocolate-colored eyes. Soon enough determination won out and settled on her pretty features. Relief relaxed Cole’s fists. She’d get them out of this.

  “Actually,” she began. “I don’t consider singing to be work.”

  Shit. His knuckles cracked. That was not at all what he’d expected her to say.

  She turned to his mother and smiled. “I’d be honored to sing something for the two of you. Think about what you’d like, then let me know and I’ll tell you if it’s within my vocal range. It’s been awhile but I’ll do my best. However”—she turned back to face him—“I think your son is going to wimp out.”

  Besides determination, her warm gaze held a fair amount of sympathy. Christ. What was with her and that stupid emotion? It was a damn sight worse than her pestering attitude.

  “Oh, Cole, please don’t do that.” His mother frowned. “It would really mean a lot to me.”

  Unable to stand the hurt swimming in his mother’s eyes, he softened his resolve…just a little. “I’ll think about it, Mom, but I’m not promising anything.” He looked at Jordan, keeping his tone neutral, while putting as much fury and disgust as possible into his stare. “I’m sure Jordan would do just fine without me.”

  Either she didn’t get the hint or deliberately ignored it. Probably the latter.

  “You’re right, Cole. I don’t need you. But then again”—her face broke into a mischievous smile—“what fun would that be?”

  A living hell.

  Cole honestly believed she was there to make his life a living hell...and was enjoying it way too much. His lip curled at her satisfied expression. Time to wipe that grin off of her face.

  He leaned across the table for a close-up view. “About as much fun as a funeral.”

  Swift and intense, pain darkened her gaze.

  His pleasure faltered and before he could lean back in his chair, warm, slender fingers curled around his wrist.

  “I think we’ve both had our fair share of that, Cole. It’s time to move on.”

  He jerked his arm free and bolted back, ignoring his tingling skin and her last statement.