When Luis had gotten far enough ahead of them that he couldn’t hear, she jogged to Lance. “Something’s not right,” she said.
“Tell me about it.” He shook his head. “He can never admit when he’s wrong about anything.”
She tugged on his arm until he stopped and faced her. “That’s not what I mean.”
“So what do you mean?” he asked, inching into her space. He was so broad she couldn’t see around him. His thick callused hands came to rest on his hips.
Her heart fluttered like a caged butterfly searching for a way out. “I just…I’ve never seen him get turned around out here.”
Once again, Lance’s shoulders lifted in that laid-back-cowboy shrug. “It could happen to anyone. Especially if he didn’t sleep all that great. He’s probably tired.”
No. It’d happened to her multiple times but it didn’t happen to Luis. She glanced at the older man, still stalking toward the east side of the mountain in a huff. “What if something’s wrong? Health-wise or something?”
Sympathy softened Lance’s eyes. “It’s not like what happened to your dad. Nothing’s wrong. I see the man every day. Trust me. He’s healthy as a horse.”
A sigh sank in her chest. Maybe Lance saw only what he wanted to see. “What if we hadn’t come looking for him? How long would it have taken him to find his way?” Or would he have wandered off and gotten lost? If he couldn’t even find the ATV, what else would he forget?
“He would’ve found his way eventually,” Lance insisted, as though he was unwilling to consider the alternative.
Well, it was easy to see where he’d gotten his stubbornness. Jessa raised her head and stared him down. “I don’t think he should go out alone anymore.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, checking behind his shoulder as though he wanted to make sure his father was out of earshot. “Which is why I’d like you to stay with him for a while.”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?” She must not have heard him right.
“I can’t babysit him every second. Not for the next few weeks. I’m training for Worlds.”
Right. The biggest competition on the bull-riding stage. A laugh tumbled out. “So you want me to babysit him.” Did he even realize how ridiculous that sounded?
Lance took a step closer, and it wasn’t fair how those large silvery eyes of his could look so pleading. “He already spends most of his free time at your rescue thing anyway.”
Rescue thing? Heat swathed her forehead. “I’m pretty sure you meant to say my father’s animal rescue organization, which happens to be his legacy.” You hot jackass.
“Right.” His lips twitched as though he was trying to hold back a smile. “That’s what I meant. You already spend a lot of time with him. We can tell him your house is being fumigated or something and you can move in with him for a few weeks. The upper story of his house is furnished and everything.”
“Oh, well in that case.” She let the sarcasm in her tone speak for her. “Are you crazy? The man is sixty-seven years old. He’s not going to let me babysit him.” If he realized what was really going on, Luis would have a conniption.
“He likes you,” Lance countered, his eyes melting into some kind of irresistible plea. The same one she often saw on wounded animals. Good God. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
“In fact, I think he might like you better than he likes me,” he said, going for the kill shot with a delicious little smirk. “I can’t keep my eye on him when I’m out training. And I don’t trust him to be alone. Can’t have him wandering off anymore.”
Under the power of his gaze, her will had started to cave, but she shook her head, desperately holding on to the shard of pride she had left. “No. I’m sorry. I do have a life, you know. I can’t drop everything and babysit your—”
“I’ll give you half of my winnings,” he interrupted.
Jessa staggered back a step. This was absurd. “I won’t take your money.”
“Fine, then. I’ll donate it to your shelter. Half of everything I win at Worlds.”
Half of everything? She didn’t know much about bull riding, but she knew those purses were worth a lot of money. “That’s…wow…a chunk of change…”
He stepped in closer, lowered his head to hers. “I’m gonna win this year. I just need the time to train.”
Determination had steeled his face, his voice, and she didn’t doubt he’d win. He’d won a World title before, though it had been years back. But he was the real thing—the rider who persevered through every injury, through every disappointment. And given how disappointing she’d heard the past year had been for him in the arena, he’d do whatever it took to get one more title. “I don’t want to take your winnings.” But she kind of did, too. Not for herself, but for the shelter. That’d give her plenty to make the repairs and improvements they needed, to buy supplies and upgrade their facility until she could establish a good donor base.
“I’m not doing it for the money,” Lance uttered, his voice full of conviction.
No. It clearly went much deeper for him. She could read it in his eyes. He had something to prove to the world. She’d seen the articles in the town newspaper. She’d heard what everyone was saying. While Luis had somehow managed to continue competing as a living legend until the age of thirty-eight, they thought Lance had lost his spark. Some people in town said he should’ve quit a long time ago. How would that feel? To always be stuck in the shadow of your great father? To have the world thinking you’re done before you’re ready to be?
“Please, Jessa,” he said laying a hand on her forearm and effectively wiping out her last scrap of dignified resolve. “I need your help.” Judging from the twitch in his jaw, those might’ve been the most difficult words he’d ever managed to say.
Yeah, who was she kidding? She couldn’t say no to the man. Couldn’t turn down a large donation to the shelter.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” she said, starting to walk past him.
On one condition, she should have added. That he’d steer clear of her so she wouldn’t lose her heart again.
Chapter Six
Topaz Falls didn’t exactly offer much in the way of nightlife. Not that Jessa had ever minded. Since she’d moved here full time last year, her idea of nightlife had been snuggling up with whatever animals she was caring for at the time and enjoying a rom com movie marathon from the comfort of her couch. But one Friday evening last winter, as she was getting settled in for one of her favorites, she realized she was out of chocolate truffles and she simply couldn’t watch the fabulous Chocolat without any chocolate. So she’d thrown on a hat and a coat and braved a blizzard to walk eight blocks to The Chocolate Therapist, the town’s only confectionery and wine bar.
Normally the town was dead at nine o’clock on a snowy Friday night in December, and sure enough The Chocolate Therapist had been closed. Her heart had sunk until she’d noticed a light on somewhere near the back of the store. In a move of desperation, she’d knocked on the door.
The owner, Darla Michelson, had answered. She had one of those friendly inviting faces, with dancing blue eyes and smile lines instead of crow’s-feet, all framed by an unruly but adorable nest of curly black hair with hip red streaks. In a halo of light, Darla had hurried to unlock the door and when Jessa explained the situation, the woman had invited her in and had not only filled up a takeout box with the creamiest, loveliest truffles she’d ever seen, Darla also invited her to stay for the book club meeting she was hosting in the back room.
She might not have if she hadn’t been freezing, if her pinky toes hadn’t been numb. The prospect of staying somewhere warm and cheerful, with that rich chocolate scent billowing all around her, far outweighed the cold, lonely walk home. Darla had taken her coat and poured her a glass of mulled wine that tasted like Heaven. Then she’d taken her into a small back room, which happened to be set up like the coziest living room Jessa had ever seen. There were an overstuffed couch and two lopsided recliners clustered aro
und an antique coffee table. Happy pink and green pillows freshened up the worn sofa while polka-dotted lampshades brightened the whole space.
Cassidy Greer, who was a local EMT, and Naomi had popped off the couch enthusiastically to greet her. They were so warm and friendly, bright rays of sunshine in the winter of her lingering grief. That night, for the first time since her father had passed away, the feeling of loneliness that had shrouded Jessa fell away and the first signs of spring started to bud in her heart.
After that, every week, she headed to The Chocolate Therapist, and it really had become her healing. The chocolate and wine, yes of course, but even more so these women who’d become like her sisters. Maybe it was their shared grief. Darla had lost her husband to cancer two years before, which made her a young widow at thirty-four. Sweet young Cassidy had lost her brother Cash in a bull-riding accident five years previously. And Naomi had been left behind by a husband who wanted nothing to do with her or their amazing daughter. That first night, they’d bonded. Pain has a funny way of bringing people together, and they’d spent the whole night sharing their life stories over countless mugs of mulled wine and God only knew how many boxes of truffles. They were all so different—on the book side of things Darla preferred straight-up smut, Naomi was addicted to self-help books, Cassidy read only suspense and thrillers, and Jessa, of course, was all about sweet character-driven romance novels that told idyllic stories with happy endings. Their vast differences didn’t matter, though. They hardly ever discussed the books they were reading, anyway. Every discussion somehow diverged into talking about life, their problems, and the joys or hurts or triumphs they were facing.
Jessa had never had a group of friends like that before, with whom she could say anything she wanted without guarding herself or considering how silly or ignorant or pathetic she might sound. With them she could just be.
So when Darla called an extra meeting, Jessa had hurried right over, expecting to discuss their latest selection. But instead of their normal discussion, it had started to feel like an interrogation. Like always, they were gathered around the coffee table. Red sangria had replaced the mulled wine once the snow had started to melt. Tonight, Darla had made the most addictive chocolate-covered strawberries—white, dark, and cinnamon flavored. Everything had been going wonderfully, until Jessa mentioned Lance’s proposition. That’s when the gasps and questions had started.
“Lance asked you to move in with him?” Naomi demanded, dabbing a smear of chocolate from the corner of her lips.
“Isn’t that a little fast?” Darla chimed in, leaning over to refill her sangria for the fourth time in an hour. Owning a wine bar means you build up quite the tolerance.
“Yeah, you’ve been on only one date,” Cassidy added. Though she had the most somber blue eyes Jessa had ever seen, Cassidy’s grin revealed her dimples. She was the quietest in the group, but also could win the award for the wittiest. Not to mention the most reliable. She covered weekends at the shelter so Jessa could have some time off.
They were teasing, she knew that, but she wished she could fan the blush away from her face. The truth was, she knew it was a bad idea, moving to the ranch, babysitting Lance’s father for the next couple of weeks. Especially with the way Lance affected her. She’d kissed the man after being in his presence for all of an hour. Not that she could let these women ever find out. She’d never hear the end of it. They were already teasing her enough. And that had to stop before she crumbled and told them everything.
Trying to maintain an air of indifference, she leaned back into the couch cushion as if their chatter didn’t faze her. “First of all, he didn’t ask me to move in with him,” she said for at least the fifth time. “He asked me to move in with his father.”
“That’s not weird or anything,” Cassidy quipped, sharing a look with Darla.
Jessa gave the women a look of her own. “Second, we have not been on any dates. This is strictly a business arrangement.” And she intended to keep it that way. All she’d have to do is recall the repulsed stiffening of his upper body when she’d gone to kiss him. That should make it easier.
“He’s already seen you naked,” Naomi pointed out before popping another strawberry into her mouth.
“Bet he wouldn’t mind seeing that again,” Cassidy teased. “Like tonight. In his bedroom.”
Jessa squirmed. Could not let herself go there. Lance was off-limits. So was romance. And sex. Definitely sex because, in her opinion, those two things went together.
She picked up her glass and took a sip to cool herself down. When was the last time she’d broken out in a sweat simply sitting still?
“I’ve always wondered how Lance would be in bed,” Darla said, licking the chocolate covering off a strawberry. She tended to wonder that about everyone. Did a lot of experimenting, too, though she claimed she’d never fall in love again. “I bet he’s rowdy.” She bit into the strawberry with a gleam in her eyes.
“That’s something I hope I never have to hear about,” Naomi answered sternly. Though she was close to Lance, Naomi had been Lucas Cortez’s high school sweetheart until he’d gone and gotten himself sent off to prison for arson. She still talked about him sometimes, though. Seemed to wonder what could’ve been, like everyone does once in a while. Or more than once in a while if you were Jessa. Which is exactly why she’d sworn off men for now. “You can tease me all you want, but nothing is going to happen between Lance and me.” He’d made it perfectly clear. “He promised to donate money to the rescue. That’s the only reason I agreed.” That and Lance’s ridiculously convincing wounded puppy eyes.
“Maybe he wanted you around more,” Naomi suggested.
Jessa only laughed.
“I’m serious,” her friend insisted. “I never dreamed he’d ask someone to move to the ranch. He usually avoids people at all costs.” She tilted her head and studied Jessa in a way that made her want to hide. Naomi had one of those intense gazes that made you wonder if she could read your mind. “But he obviously doesn’t mind having you around. Which is a little suspicious. He could’ve asked me to keep a better eye on Luis. I already live there.”
“You’ve got enough to do,” Jessa shot back, refusing to let hope root itself in her heart. “He knows Luis and I are friends. That’s all it is.” He knew the man wouldn’t put up a fight if Jessa moved in. Luis would do anything for her and his son knew it. “Couldn’t be better timing, actually,” she said in her best businesslike tone. “Because I’m not interested anyway.” Or at least she shouldn’t be. Therefore, she’d simply avoid Lance, keep an eye on Luis, and start making plans to upgrade the shelter. That would keep her busy, and before she knew it, the time would be up.
“If your face gets this red when you’re not interested, I’d hate to see what happens when you are interested,” Darla said sweetly.
“It’s warm in here,” she lied. Actually, there was a wonderful cool breeze floating through the open window.
“I have a feeling it’s about to get hotter,” Naomi said, elbowing Darla. The three of them laughed in that happy tipsy way.
Jessa fought off another blush with a sip of sangria. She held an ice cube in her mouth and simply rolled her eyes at them, denying that thoughts of Lance generated any heat within her. Which only made her skin burn hotter.
She had only one more night to fix that problem.
* * *
His father had gotten older, no doubt about that. Lance eyed him from across the kitchen table. Wisdom pooled in the grayness of the man’s eyes, but they sagged, too. Jagged lines that had started as crow’s-feet at the corners now fissured down into his cheeks, which were wrinkled and spotted with age. Most times he didn’t look at his father’s face for too long, but now he forced his gaze to be still, to note the details, the changes.
If it were up to him, he’d still see Luis Cortez the same way he had when he was a boy. He used to stand on the corral fence whooping while his dad rode, his spirit and strength a force Lance had dreamed
of one day harnessing himself. Didn’t matter how many times he was thrown, his father always got up, shook off the dust, and shoved his foot right back in that stirrup. Nothing could break the man, nothing inside the corral and nothing outside the corral, either. Even after his mother had left and Lance had worried it might break them both, Luis had simply soldiered on. But no one was indestructible. Not even the toughest cowboy. Life wears on you, little by little, not shattering you all at once, but chipping away from the inside where the damage isn’t always visible. Lance had lived enough to know that.
“What’re you still doin’ here?” Luis asked, scraping the last of the eggs and crumbled bits of bacon off his plate and shoveling them into his mouth. “I thought you’d be training on Ball Buster this mornin’.”
“I’m waiting until Jessa gets here.” And trying to figure out how time had gone so fast, how his father had gone from an unbreakable wrangler to an old man who lost ATVs. He shook the thought away. It was age, that’s all. Old people forgot stuff. It was bound to happen to Luis sometime. Lance reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a refill. “You’re okay if she stays here for a while?” he asked, cupping his hands around the mug. The robust scent sparked the memory of drinking coffee with Jessa yesterday, which conjured up the images of her lying almost naked on the floor again.
“Why’s Jessa coming?” his father asked from behind a blank stare.
Worry dulled his body’s sudden arousal. “We talked about this last night.” Maybe the man’s hearing was going out…
“Right,” Luis said gruffly, eyes cast down at the table as though he was trying to remember.
“Her place is being fumigated,” Lance reminded him. “She’s got an insect problem.”
Luis grunted his disapproval. “She shouldn’t have to pay for something like that. What’s she got? I could take care of it for free.”
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