The Best Catch in Texas

by Stella Bagwell

  On first glance, she could tell the house had been built in the 1930s or 40s. At some time during the years, the outside had been covered with planked cedar. The boards were now weathered to a soft pewter gray that contrasted gracefully with the blue metal roof. Porches were attached to the front and west side of the house, both of which were deep enough to hold several groups of outdoor furniture.

  As they grew closer, Nicolette could see the yard was shaded with a huge pecan tree, along with several live oaks and Mexican palms. Crimson bougainvillea climbed rampantly up the post supporting the porch, while dark-yellow lantana grew thick against the lattice-work underpinning. St. Augustine grass spread lush and green across the deeply shaded lawn.

  Surprise marked her face when she finally looked over at him. “I don’t know what to say, Ridge. This is—nothing like I expected.”

  His face stoic, he braked the truck to a stop outside the yard fence and killed the engine. Turning toward her, he asked in a guarded tone, “What were you expecting, Nicci? I warned you that it needed work.”

  Frowning that he was so quick to misinterpret her words, she said, “I don’t mean that! I meant that I never expected it to look this homey or beautiful!” Fumbling quickly with her seat belt, she pushed it aside and reached to open the door. “Come on. I want to see everything!”

  Before he could walk around and help her out of the vehicle, Nicci slid to the ground and hurried over to the low board fence surrounding the yard. As he joined her, she sighed with appreciation.

  “The shade is so deep and cool.”

  He said, “I figure the pecan tree has to be at least two hundred years old.”

  Nodding, she lifted her gaze to the lofty branches. “I’ll bet that old tree has seen a lot in its time.” She leveled her gaze back on the yard and the area behind the house. Excitement filled her voice when she spotted a small, rickety shed. “Is that an old chicken house I see?”

  “It is. I’ve purchased lumber to repair it. But that’s going to come after the fence building. Keeping the cattle and horses on my own property is my first priority,” he told her, then looked at her with dry skepticism. “Don’t tell me you know something about chickens.”

  She shot him an offended look. “I know all about them. We used to have a chicken coop out behind the ranch house. Cook kept about two-dozen dominicker hens and I would help her gather the eggs.”

  He moved a fraction closer and Nicolette was sure she could feel the heat of his body arcing into hers. In days past she would have casually eased away from him and the temptation he evoked. But she was growing addicted to the excitement he stirred in her. So much so that when she was away from him, she yearned to see his face, feel his touch and hear the husky drawl of his voice. It was as if Ridge had turned back the years for her and she’d reverted to a teenage girl who sighed with longing for the boy next door.

  “You don’t have the chickens anymore?” he asked.

  His question interrupted her thoughts and she shook her head. “Not anymore. The eggs attracted snakes of all kinds. Cook used to carry a shotgun with her when we’d enter the chicken house, just in case. We tried keeping cats around, but they would always run off to the barn. Guess the idea of fat rats was more inviting to them than snakes. My father was always afraid one of us kids would reach into a nest and pick up a rattlesnake instead of an egg. He said he’d rather buy eggs from the store. So we got rid of the chickens.”

  His hand curled around her upper arm, and Nicolette matched her steps to his as he guided her toward a small gate that would let them into the front yard.

  “I don’t want snakes around, either. But I doubt I’ll get my wishes. I’ve had a few locals warn me that rattlesnakes are bad in this area,” he remarked. “I’m hoping Enoch will keep them chased away.”

  As the two of them walked up a beaten grassy path toward the porch, his hand remained on her arm. His fingers warmed her flesh and sent sparks of awareness circuiting through her body. Trying not to dwell on his nearness, she asked, “Who is Enoch?”

  “Here he comes right now.”

  Nicolette followed the direction of his gaze to the east side of the house. A tall, red-haired boy who appeared to be in his early teens was rapidly approaching. At his side was a large German shepherd dog.

  “Enoch is the dog,” Ridge informed her. “And the fine-looking young man is Corey. He helps me with chores on weekends and after school.”

  By now the boy was within speaking distance and he held up a hand in greeting. “Hi, Mr. Ridge! I didn’t know you were gonna have company this evening.”

  Nicolette could see the teenager was trying his best to be polite and not stare at her. Apparently he wasn’t accustomed to seeing women here at Ridge’s place. The notion pleased her. Although, she reminded herself, that even though she was his first female visitor, she probably wouldn’t be his last. And she couldn’t expect to be the sole woman to share Ridge’s personal life. Not when she’d insisted over and over that she wasn’t in the market for romance. Still, the idea of him bringing another woman out to this cozy ranch was one she didn’t want to consider.

  Ridge gestured for Corey to come closer so that he could make introductions. “Nicci, this is Corey, my right-hand man.”

  The teenager sheepishly ducked his chin. “Shoot, Mr. Ridge, I don’t do that much.” Through a hank of red hair, he peeped up at Nicolette, then politely stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Nicci.”

  Smiling, Nicolette shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Corey. I’ll bet you’re a big help.” Glancing slyly over at Ridge, she asked Corey in a teasing voice, “Is he a good boss?”

  “He’s the best!” Corey exclaimed. “And he’s really good with algebra, too!”

  Nicolette arched her brows at Ridge. A faint hint of color swept up his throat and over his jaws. Apparently he wasn’t accustomed to being praised in front of others. To look at him, anyone would think he owned the world, or could if he wanted to. Yet she was discovering more and more that he was a practical man without a pretentious bone in his body. When would he ever quit surprising her?

  “I’m helping Corey with a summer class,” Ridge quickly explained, then, slipping his arm around the back of her waist, he said to Corey, “I’m going to show Nicci around the place before we have supper. Have you fed the horses yet?”

  The teenager nodded. “And watered them, too. I’ll go spread their hay. Then I’ll be finished and out of your way.”

  The three of them walked across the lawn to the east side of the house. Several yards beyond the fence was a barn with a roof of rusty corrugated iron and sides of bare, weathered lumber. Off to one side of the structure there were two connecting corrals made of iron pipe. In one of the pens a herd of five horses were eating from a wooden feed trough.

  Nicolette turned her gaze to Corey. “You don’t have to hurry away on my account. I’m sure Ridge can cook enough for three.”

  The warm flicker in Ridge’s eyes told Nicolette he appreciated her generous attitude toward the boy. “Sure,” he said. “Corey is welcome to stay and eat with us.”

  “Oh, no!” Corey quickly exclaimed. “If I was to do that my mom would skin me alive! She’d say it was imposin’. But thanks, anyway.” With a quick spin on the toe of his tennis shoe, he jogged to the barn. Enoch barked with playful joy and bounded after the boy.

  Nicolette smiled wistfully after the two of them. “What a nice boy. And such manners.”

  Nodding, Ridge said, “I was blessed to have found him. He’s not lazy. In fact, he likes to work, even harder than I want him to. And he appreciates everything that I do for him.”

  “You’re acquainted with his parents?” she asked curiously.

  “I’ve talked to his mother a few times after church services. Suzette’s a nice, hard-working woman,” Ridge told her.

  “What about his father?”

  Disgust twisted his lips. “Corey doesn’t have a father. He walked out on the family when Co
rey was a baby, and Suzette has never remarried. Guess she’s too scared to try again.”

  Nicolette’s jaw tightened briefly as she muttered, “I know the feeling.”

  Ridge glanced down at her, but didn’t comment. Nicolette was glad. She felt too good and too happy to allow herself to think for more than five seconds about Bill and the heartache he’d caused her.

  After a moment Ridge went on, “I try to be there for the kid. When he needs to talk about something. Or needs help with his schoolwork. He needs more, though. He needs a father.”

  The frustration threaded through his voice told Nicolette just how much he cared for Corey. Her heart softened toward the man just that much more. “I can tell by the way he looks at you that you’re his hero, Ridge. Don’t count short what you’re doing for him.”

  With a faint smile, he urged her toward the barn. “Come on,” he said huskily. “Let’s go take a look at my horses and you can tell me what you think of them.”

  Several more minutes passed before the two of them finally entered the house. After Ridge showed her through the simply decorated rooms, they returned to the kitchen, which contained a small dining table, two walls of pine cabinets, a gas cook stove, a new refrigerator and, over the double sink, a wide window that looked out at the pecan tree.

  “I’ll bet you get a good view of the squirrels from here,” Nicolette told him as she stood at the sink and gazed out at the shaded yard. “I wonder if you’ll get many pecans? You need to save them to make Christmas goodies. Like pies and pralines.”

  He was standing a few steps away, shaking salt and pepper and other spices onto two thick steaks. Now he glanced over at her and tried not to dwell on how sexy she looked standing there in the waning light, a bit of thigh showing and her tiny waist nipped in by a wide leather belt.

  If Ridge could have his way, he’d forget the food and simply take Nicolette into his arms and carry her to the bedroom. From the moment he’d first met her, he’d been struck with a deep attraction for the woman. But the more he’d gotten to know her, the more that attraction had turned to outright hunger. Especially after those kisses he’d shared with her during the ride on the Sandbur. He couldn’t get them, or her, out of his mind, and though he’d been reminding himself to take things slowly everything inside of him wanted to reach out, grab her and never let her go.

  “I’ll gather the pecans if you’ll make the desserts,” he offered. “I’m not much of a desert cook. They take a little more finesse than meat and potatoes.”

  He appeared to be making a permanent home here so he would probably still be around when Christmas arrived. But would she still be a part of his life, Nicolette wondered. Did she want to be?

  Suddenly she was thinking about how it might be to share the task of trimming a Christmas tree with him, to show him how to make fudge, pumpkin bread and pecan pie. But more than those things, how would it feel, she asked herself, to share the true meaning of Christmas with this man, the gift of love?

  For a moment her throat tightened with emotion, and then she jerked her mind out of the pleasant daydreams. It would never do for her to get starry-eyed over Ridge Garroway. He was a good doctor and, more important, he appeared to be a good man. He needed a woman in his life who could come to him with a whole and giving heart. Not a woman who’d already been scarred and jaded.

  Moving closer to his side, she tried to focus on the present. “Actually, doctoring puts a crimp in my kitchen time. But I enjoy trying my hand at a few dishes. When did you learn how to cook?”

  He switched on a burner beneath a large iron skillet and adjusted the flame. “During my college days. Barry couldn’t cook boiled water and neither could I. But I got sick of eating take-out. For a while I thought I was going to turn into a pizza. So I made a trip to the grocery store and learned through trial and error. Believe me, I had more errors than anything. The first time I tried to fry bacon and eggs for breakfast the fire alarm went off.”

  Nicolette chuckled. “Once I nearly burned the whole kitchen with a grease fire. I didn’t realize vegetable oil would ignite if you got it too hot. Anyway, I had to use the fire extinguisher to douse the flames. It took me forever to clean up the mess. For a long time after that I didn’t venture back into the kitchen.”

  He plopped the two beefsteaks into the skillet, and the meat quickly seared and sizzled. After he’d arranged them just the way he wanted, he shot her a cheeky grin. “Stick with me, honey, and you’ll never have to cook.”

  Not about to take the implication of his words seriously, she reached over and plucked a piece of lettuce from the head lying on the cabinet counter. She chewed thoughtfully before she finally asked, “Is your mother a kitchen person?”

  He looked at her as though she might as well have asked if the woman was from Mars or some other far-off planet. “You’ve got to be joking. Mom wouldn’t know a spatula from a meat cleaver.”

  From the impression Ridge had given her of his life at home, she’d not expected his mother to be the homey sort. Still, she’d asked in hopes that Mrs. Garroway had sometimes had motherly moments.

  “So she wasn’t one of those mothers who baked cookies for school functions or made popcorn balls to eat in front of the television.”

  “Hardly,” he said with a grimace. “Mom doesn’t watch television. She thinks it’s beneath her. She’d rather sit around with a cocktail and whine about how lonely and bored she is.”

  Nicolette watched his features tighten and she suddenly realized she wanted to know everything about this man. His hopes and dreams, and even his disappointments, had become important to her. “You don’t get along with your parents at all, do you?”

  He turned away from the skillet of sizzling steaks to face her. “Frankly, no. We have nothing in common. I’m sorry, too. Because it’s not the way I’d like for things to be.”

  “Have you tried to compromise with them?” she asked carefully. “From what you told me before, I can understand you don’t like their lifestyle. But maybe if you give in just a little—”

  His cynical snort stopped just short of being angry. “There is no compromising or sharing with the Garroways, Nicci. It’s their way or no way.” He turned back to the skillet and shoved a fork at the cooking meat. “I had a phone call from my mother this evening before you came down to my office,” he went on, his voice softening a bit. “She called to remind me that I was embarrassing my father by living in a shack and working for practically nothing. To hear her tell it, he won’t be able to hold his head up until I go home to Houston. I keep telling her that my home is here now, but she won’t listen. And Dad, well, he pretty much disowned me a long time ago.”

  Her heart aching for him, she stepped closer. “Why?”

  She watched his features tighten.

  “Because I didn’t follow in the traditional Garroway footsteps. According to him, I’m a good-for-nothing rebel.”

  Unable to understand such narrow mindedness, Nicolette shook her head with amazement. “You became a doctor like him. Which took years of diligent work and study. Wasn’t that enough?”

  “Not at all. The Garroways have an image to uphold. Or so they think. I ruined things by moving away, by defying the long-standing years of Richard Garroway being a noted neurosurgeon in Houston.”

  Her gaze traveled to his strong, tanned hands. One was gripping the handle of the iron skillet. The other was holding a long-handled fork. Both looked like a workingman’s hands instead of those of a pampered surgeon. Memory told her that the palms were slightly callused and just rough enough to cause a pleasant friction as they smoothed across her skin. She tried not to shiver at the erotic thought.

  She said, “From what I’ve been told, you do perform some surgeries.”

  He nodded. “Minor things. Like pacemakers. Anything else that involves opening the heart, I refer.”

  “Did you choose not to do those major surgeries to defy your father? Or was there some other reason?”

  Faint annoya
nce arched his brow as he glanced at her. “Nicci, you’ve been misreading me. I’m not defying anyone. I’m simply living my life the way I want to live it. Instead of the way someone else wants me to. I’m not just a doctor. I’m a cowboy, too. I like both professions, and while I’m out working on a fence or with horses, or anything else for that matter, I don’t want to have to worry about squashing or cutting a finger. Besides all that, I don’t want to be tied down to a grueling schedule. I want time for a wife and children. Real time. Not just a few minutes here and there.” He turned away from the gas range to face her. “Does that disappoint you?”

  The question struck Nicolette so hard that she had to glance away from his probing gaze. When her marriage to Bill had started to falter, she’d thrown herself into her work. She’d devoted every minute of her days and most of her nights to her patients. She’d convinced herself that the only good doctor was a devoted one, one who cared for his patients first and his own family second. After all, she’d tried putting Bill foremost in her life and she’d gotten nothing but heartache in return. At least her patients had appreciated her.

  Yet Ridge was telling her that he wanted his family to be the most important thing to him. Meeting a man like him at this point in her life was almost bittersweet.

  “Of course it doesn’t disappoint me,” she said huskily, even though her heart wasn’t in the words. She was a bit disappointed but not for the reason he thought. She was saddened because she knew she couldn’t be his special woman. The one who would eventually make a life with him here in this cozy ranch house or the one that would give him children. “Why should it?”

  Faint humor twisted his lips. “Because you think a doctor is supposed to turn his life over to his patients.”

  Turning her head back to him, Nicolette looked at him crossly. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can read between your words.”

  He was mixing her up, turning her thinking in one direction and then another. She let out a hefty sigh of frustration. “Look, Ridge, I tried mixing a medical career and a marriage. It didn’t work out for me.”