His sigh was heavier than a ten-pound brick as he stared down at his half-eaten steak. So much for spending quality time with his daughter, he thought miserably. He’d made an utter mess of things. But what the hell was he supposed to do, just give in and give his daughter anything she wished for, he asked himself.
Groaning with frustration, he rose from the table and stalked to the library where a small wet bar cordoned off one corner of the room. After he’d filled a squatty tumbler with chunks of ice and a stiff amount of Kentucky bourbon, he carried the drink to his bedroom.
There he sank into an easy chair positioned in front of double windows that ran from ceiling to floor. With the drapes pulled he could see the western skyline, but tonight the evening star was blotted out by the remnants of a rainstorm that had passed through earlier that day. The night was black and lonely, just like his heart.
Ice tinkled against glass as he dourly lifted the drink to his lips and downed half the contents. He wasn’t a drinker. Never had been. But tonight Gracia’s outburst had left his nerves as prickly as a cocklebur and he needed something to soothe him before he had to face her again.
My mother is gone! She won’t ever come back!
As his daughter’s words rolled around in his head, he took another long sip of the bourbon and grimaced as a trail of fire traveled from his throat to his gut.
Juliet won’t ever be my mother because of you!
Gracia had never spoken to him with such anger or disrespect before and he should have been angry with her. Very angry. Instead, all he could feel was worry and loss and frustration. It was plain she needed and wanted a mother. But he was in no position to give her one. And his daughter was going to have to learn that love and marriage was something that just didn’t happen because a person wanted it to.
Chapter Six
Juliet placed the old newspaper on the floor beside the sofa and closed her burning eyes. She’d been reading for hours now, stories that had been published down through the years about Matt’s grandparents, Nate and Sarah Ketchum. From what she could gather, the couple had lived a colorful, if sometimes difficult, life together. And she had to agree with Gilbert that a story about the king and queen of the Sandbur would pique reader interest. The couple made for fascinating reading. But she wasn’t prepared to do a story about the two of them. Not when she knew it would end anything there might be between her and Matt. Not to mention the devastation it might cause Gracia, particularly at school where peers could be judgmental.
So what was she going to do about writing the article, Juliet asked herself for the thousandth time. Gilbert was making noises, wanting to see the progress she’d made toward the story. So far the only thing she’d managed to do was pull up old archives and write a few notes. But that wasn’t going to satisfy the editor for much longer. He’d threatened to sack her if she didn’t come through with a scandalous article about the Ketchum’s and the so-called buried money. So that left her stuck at the edge of a cliff with no way out but down.
With a weary sigh, she pushed herself off the couch and headed toward the tiny kitchen in her small house. A cup of coffee might help her think. At the least, it would help her stay awake so that she could read for another couple of hours.
She’d assembled the water and coffee grounds and was flipping the switch on the coffeemaker when the telephone on the corner of the cabinet rang.
Juliet hoped it was Angie with news about Melanie’s fever. She was worried about the little girl.
“Hello.”
“Is this Juliet?”
Matt’s voice stunned her for a moment and she stared at the countertop as her mind raced through flashbacks of the party and their stroll through the night. She was certain she’d never hear from him again.
“Yes.”
“This is Matt.”
Gripping the receiver, she swallowed hard and tried to make her voice light. “Yes. I—recognized your voice. How are you?”
There was a long pause before he finally answered, “Okay.”
The terse reply told her nothing about the reason for his call and she blew out a long expectant breath as she waited for him to further explain.
“Are you busy?”
His question vaulted her mind to the stack of papers in the living room, papers with pictures and articles about his grandparents. What would he say if he knew she’d been reading them? Juliet shuddered to think of his reaction.
“Uh—no. Actually, I was just making myself a cup of coffee.”
“Oh.” That’s what he should be drinking, Matt thought, instead of something to dull his senses. If he had, he might not be on the telephone now, making a fool of himself. “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I—I’m calling to see if you have anything planned for Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
She said it as if she’d never heard of such a day of the week and Matt realized this whole phone call had taken the woman by surprise. But hell, he’d shocked himself even more when he’d looked up her number and punched it through.
“Yes. Are you busy this coming Saturday?”
“No. I don’t think so. Why?”
The drawl of her voice wound through him like a ribbon of warm pleasure. Closing his eyes, he could see her face, her lips and smell that elusive scent of flowers on her skin. Wanting her was something he still didn’t know how to deal with.
“I—that is—Gracia and I—were wondering if you’d like to go riding with us. We might take a lunch down to the river. That is—if the weather is nice.”
“A picnic? Really?”
He grimaced. “You sound doubtful. Don’t you think I know how to have a picnic?”
A nervous little laugh sounded back at him. “Not exactly. You don’t seem the type. And I’m sure you’re making this invitation for Gracia’s sake.”
“I’m making it, that’s all that matters,” he said a little gruffly.
“Does that mean you actually want me to accept? Or that you just want to be able to tell Gracia you did your part?”
He swiped a heavy hand through his black hair. “Why are you making this so hard? You either want to come or you don’t.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment and then she spoke in a low voice, “I’m not sure I should, Matt. After the other night—it’s obvious you don’t want to get tangled up with me. And—”
“You assured me that you’d forget about—what happened between us. Now you’re bringing it up. I—”
“All right, I told you I’d forget, but I simply can’t wipe it from my mind. I’ve tried. And a woman is a curious creature, Matt. I’d like to know, at least, what’s behind this invitation.”
So she hadn’t been able to forget any better than he had, Matt thought grimly. He didn’t know whether that news pleased or worried him. “Nothing is behind it, Juliet. Gracia likes your company and—so do I. It’s just a damn picnic,” he added irritably. “Nothing more.”
“Okay. I accept. When should I be there?”
She didn’t sound all that excited about the prospect, but that part of it didn’t matter. She’d accepted; he couldn’t ask for more.
“Ten should be early enough. Come to the Sanchez house. We’ll go from here.”
She agreed and then before he could make any sort of reply, gave him a quick goodbye. After the phone clicked dead in his ear, Matt hung up the receiver and left the bedroom. It was getting late and he wanted to make sure Gracia had returned to the house.
The den, where Gracia usually worked on her homework or watched television was empty so he made a quick detour to the kitchen just in case she’d decided to eat. It was a cinch that she ought to be hungry. When she’d fled from the supper table, her plate had been full.
He found Juan in the kitchen. The old Mexican was watching a Texas Rangers’ baseball game on a small TV perched on the end of a cabinet counter. The old wrangler had become the cook for the Sanchez household a little over a year ago when the young woman who’d held the
job had married and moved from the area. Juan had once been one of the best wranglers on the Sandbur. He could rope a cow with his eyes closed and horses that had once been labeled outlaws had been tamed by his gentle hand. But he was now in his seventies and a fall from his horse while gathering cattle had severely broken his hip. The joint had to be replaced and Matt had given the job of cook to the man to make his recuperation easier.
Juan spared a glance at Matt and because the old man spoke only broken English he rattled the question in Spanish, “Has Gracia been in here?”
Juan answered in his native language.
“All right. If she shows up hungry, fix her something to eat. She didn’t eat her supper.”
His expression grim with disapproval, the old man nodded. “Si.”
Turning on his heel, Matt left the kitchen and headed up the staircase to where the bedrooms were located. There was a chance that Gracia had climbed the stairs and entered her room without him hearing.
When he spotted the slit of light coming from beneath her door, relief washed through him. In spite of everything, Gracia was the light of his life. She was the reason he worked from dawn to dusk to keep the ranch prosperous. He wanted her life to be good and he wasn’t about to depend on some future husband to provide for her. He wanted her to have a legacy and dependable security, long after her father was gone.
Drawing in a bracing breath, he knocked lightly on her bedroom door.
“Gracia?”
When there was no response, Matt pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. The space reflected his daughter’s tomboyish taste. Instead of ruffles and lace and a canopy bed, she had plain pine furnishings, dark corded curtains and a matching comforter. Books were piled everywhere, along with a few CDs of her favorite music. There were no stacks of stuffed animals, dolls kept over from her younger years or posters of pop idols on her walls. Instead, there were endless photos of horses and her grandfather, Mingo, holding many of the cutting trophies he’d won over the years.
On a tall chest near the bed stood a framed picture of Gracia’s mother and Matt could only wonder if his daughter would look different, be different if Erica were still alive.
Sighing quietly, he stepped farther into his daughter’s private space.
She was lying crosswise on the double bed, her cheek pressed against the comforter. Her long hair had slid forward to hide most of her face, but Matt knew without seeing her expression that she was aware of his presence. Her thin little body was more than still, it was tense with anticipation, like a yearling colt just haltered for the first time.
“Gracia?”
She rose to a sitting position and looked at him with faint defiance. “I guess you’re here to punish me,” she said, her voice raw with emotion.
Pain squeezed his heart like a heavy hand. He’d always wanted his daughter to have fighting spirit, and with Sanchez blood in her veins, she’d come by it naturally. He didn’t want to squash that spirit or hurt her in any way, but it seemed as though he was always upsetting her.
“No. I’m not here to punish you. Even though I’m not happy with your disrespectful behavior.”
Her head bent as she nervously plucked at the comforter. “I’m sorry,” she said glumly. “I—shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
Maybe she should have, Matt thought miserably. At least her outburst had gotten him to thinking about more than the calf spring tally.
Easing gently down beside her, he picked up her hand and pressed it between the two of his.
She raised her head and looked at him with misty eyes and in that moment he realized how very much he wanted to please her, to understand her.
“I have something to tell you,” he said.
Surprise and confusion crossed her face. “You do? What?”
He suddenly felt very awkward. “I—uh—called Juliet a little while ago.”
Her eyes widened with disbelief. “You did? You actually called her?”
Nodding, he rose from the bed and began to move around the room. “She’s agreed to go with us on a picnic Saturday. So it looks as though we’ll be going—unless the weather is bad.”
She didn’t immediately reply and he was about to turn around to see her reaction when he was suddenly smacked from behind and two little arms snaked around his waist and squeezed hard.
“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! This is the coolest, greatest thing you’ve ever done for me!”
Amazed, Matt inwardly shook his head. Offering her several hundred dollars to go shopping wouldn’t have garnered this joyous reaction from her.
Unwrapping her tight hold on him, he turned and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re happy, but before you start getting too carried away, just remember that this is a picnic with a friend. Nothing more. Okay?”
With a broad smile, she snuggled her cheek against his midsection. “Anything you say, Daddy.”
It’s only a picnic.
Saturday morning Juliet was repeating those words to herself as she pulled to a stop in front of the Sanchez ranch house, but she couldn’t quite make herself believe them.
There was nothing simple about spending time with Matt Sanchez, especially when the time was intended rather than by chance.
After plucking a small handbag, along with a light jacket from the passenger seat, Juliet climbed out of the car and started up a narrow brick walkway that led to the tall, two-story house. As she walked along the path, she took a closer look at the red brick structure built in typical plantation style. Huge white pillars supported the second-floor balcony, which also provided a portico for the bottom floor of the house. White wooden shutters, which could actually be opened and closed, were fastened on either side of the many long windows adorning the front.
It was a beautiful structure, but entirely different from the hacienda-style home where Matt’s cousins resided. In fact, this Grecian-style home was far different than anything in the whole area and she wondered how it had come to be.
Up ahead a wide wooden door with a gold knocker opened and Gracia stepped out dressed in jeans and boots and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The moment she spotted Juliet, she waved and raced toward her.
“Hi, Juliet! Are you ready to go?” she asked excitedly.
As ready as she’d ever be, Juliet thought wryly. To Gracia, she said, “I think so. What about you?”
“I need to get my things from the house. Want to come in? Daddy is getting the horses ready. He’ll be here in a minute.”
The child whirled back to the house and Juliet followed her quick steps onto the wide planked porch and into a large foyer filled with potted palms. Along one wall, on a deacon’s bench were a brown cowboy hat, a jean jacket and a bottle of water. Gracia scooped up the pile of things and turned a happy smile on Juliet.
“Can you believe it, Juliet? Daddy is actually going riding with me!”
Apparently this was something out of the ordinary, Juliet thought. Especially when she remembered Matt telling her that he hated the sight of Gracia on a horse.
She smiled at the teenager. “I’m glad. Maybe this will give him a change of heart about your riding.”
Gracia’s cheeks dimpled impishly as she glanced at Juliet. “I think he’s already had a change of heart. Thanks to you.”
Juliet was about to correct her on that score when the door suddenly opened and Matt stepped into the foyer. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a plaid shirt of greens and blues. A black cowboy hat was pulled down low on his forehead, but she didn’t have any trouble seeing his eyes. They instantly latched onto hers and she stared while heat danced colorful footsteps across her cheeks.
“There you two are,” he said. “Hello, Juliet.”
She stepped forward to greet him and though her first instinct was to rise on tiptoe and kiss his cheek, she pushed the notion out of her head and thrust her hand out to him. “Good morning, Matt.”
Slipping off a leather glove, he took her hand and hel
d it.
“I’m glad you could come.”
One corner of his lips curved into a faint grin and Juliet decided the expression was as sexy as the calloused skin of his hand against hers.
“I’m glad I could make it,” she replied.
“I have the horses ready to go.” His fingers tightened perceptibly around hers as his gaze swept over her jeans and boots and thin, gray sweater. “Did you bring a hat?”
Juliet shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have one. But I won’t need—”
She broke off as he turned a pointed look to Gracia. “Go get her one of yours, honey.”
He’d barely gotten the order past his lips when Gracia turned on her boot heel and hurried out of the foyer. “I’ll be right back!” she called to them over her shoulder.
Once Gracia had disappeared, he looked down at her as he continued to hold her hand. “Gracia’s excited about this. I think I am, too.”
Juliet was staggered by his comment, but she tried not to show it. Matt was a complex man and she decided it would be best not to read too much into anything he said or did. Not if she wanted to keep her heart and her sanity.
“I’m glad. I just hope I haven’t forgotten all my riding skills.”
His brown eyes continued to sweep over her face. “I’ve saddled you a docile mount. All you have to do is tell him when to go and when to stop. He’ll do the rest.”
She could feel his eyes touching her and the clamp of his fingers around hers was starting to burn with electrical jolts. If Gracia didn’t return soon, she might do something stupid like step right into his arms.
“I might not be Miss Rodeo, Matt, but I don’t need a nag.”
A low chuckle rolled past his lips and in spite of all of Juliet’s self-warnings, she felt her heart lifting.
“Believe me, Juliet, there are no nags on the Sandbur.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured.
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