Roman's Choice (Saddles & Second Chances Book 1)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  After they scanned the specs, they nodded agreement.

  “Sorry to barge in, fellows,” Susie popped her head in the open doorway. “But I have a woman on the phone by the name of Harley Tate who wishes to speak with Penn, immediately. She doesn’t sound too happy either.”

  “Hey, isn’t that the girlfriend of our client, Marshal Reed?” Weston asked.

  “What the hell does she want?” Penn narrowed his gaze.

  “Marshal probably showed her the pictures you took. No one likes to be caught cheating.” Urban whistled and shook his head. “Well, at least she didn’t show up with a broom ready to knock your head off your shoulders like the last woman who was caught with her panties down. This one has the decency to call.”

  “Tell her I’m in a meeting,” Penn said.

  “Sure will, but you should know that she said if you don’t call her back, she’ll come here.” Susie’s flip flops clicked loudly all of the way down the hall.

  “I thought we were going to mandate that she wear different shoes to work. That’s worse than snapping gum and fingernails down a chalkboard,” Penn grumbled.

  “We’ve always said this is a casual working environment,” Weston added.

  “Not a stressful environment,” Penn added.

  “Come on, bro. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Roman laughed. “She’s a damn good receptionist. Maybe we should concern ourselves more with the issue of this Tate woman. Sounds like this could be a problem.”

  “Did you do something that pissed her off? Something outside of the usual snapping shots of her with her tongue down her lover’s throat.”

  Penn shook his head. “You know I could sneak into a church and not be seen. And it’s no one’s fault but her own that she was caught red-handed.”

  “Call her and remedy the situation ASAP. By the way, keep in mind we have two new ranchers starting today. I’ll be busy showing them the ropes for the next few days.” Weston lifted his booted feet onto the corner of the table. “Any more thoughts on buying another two hundred head of cattle?”

  “Depends on how much it’ll set us back,” Hugh said.

  “Roman, you’re the man who can answer that.”

  He stared at the numbers. “We’re in a good place. I say we do it now.”

  Weston dropped his size twelves to the floor with a loud thwap. “Just what I wanted to hear. Everyone understand what’s on the to-do list?” He looked at each of them.

  With no questions or further business, they departed the conference room.

  Roman was glad his marriage details went better than expected. One weight lifted from his shoulders.

  *****

  Pippa had awakened to an empty bed. Roman warned her that his day started before sunrise here at the ranch.

  Taking a shower, drying on a soft towel and dressing, she went downstairs to the kitchen, readying herself to learn the ropes of being the wife of Roman Jericho. She had a feeling she was going to have fun finding her way.

  Opening the window above the sink, she stared out into the field at the tall grass blowing in the wind. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of the outdoors, everything she didn’t get in the city. In the distance she heard the low hum of a tractor. Birds chirped from a nearby branch.

  Crossing the room, she looked out of the screen door into the backyard. The flower gardens along the house were overgrown and needed tender loving care, but further along the cobblestone walkway was a large vegetable garden that looked well maintained.

  Stepping out onto the back porch, she found a wicker basket and walked barefoot through the dew dampened grass. She laughed at the feeling. She hadn’t gone barefoot outside since she was little.

  Standing at the edge of the garden, she looked down row after row of tall, green plants bursting with vegetables.

  After she filled her basket with green beans, potatoes, squash, corn, and turnips, she headed back toward the house, stopping to wash the dirt from her feet with the water hose. She noticed Bojangles stretched out under a tree, watching her with curiosity. “Hey there, fellow.” He popped his head and ears up. “How long has it been since you’ve had a bath?” Not that she expected him to answer. She could guess it had been a while by his matted fur. Smiling, she decided it was time he met water.

  An hour later, back in the kitchen with Bojangles on the floor beside her drying on a towel, she laid her treasure of garden goodies out on the counter and stared…and stared…

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t much of a cook.

  Cooking for one wasn’t any fun.

  She did remember her mom making stew with whatever ingredients she had on hand. From fresh vegetables, to meat, to beans, and pasta. She always liked to experiment and Pippa never complained. Every meal tasted great.

  Opening every cabinet until she found what she was looking for, she cleaned and chopped all of the vegetables, dropped them into the pot with tomato sauce and spices. She turned the heat on low to simmer and placed a lid on top. Wiping her hands together, she smiled proudly.

  Turning on her heel, she spotted a bowl of fresh apples sitting on the counter.

  Pulling up a recipe app on her phone, she scrolled down the list of ingredients and grabbed everything that she needed to make a pie. Men liked pie, at least that’s what she’d heard—and by the way Roman ate three slices last night, he should be happy if she made him one herself, although Pippa doubted she could get anywhere close to the delicious peach pie the neighbor had shared.

  Laying her phone on the table, she sighed. “This could be a challenge.” Even if the recipe attested to how easy it is.

  Measuring the flour and butter, she concentrated on cutting the ingredients together while thinking about her own situation that needed the same careful attention. Life wasn’t how she’d expected it to be, but a woman who’d been thoroughly made love to by a handsome cowboy couldn’t do too much complaining. In fact, she had the chafing on her inner thighs and the tenderness of her nipples to prove she found herself a wild man in bed. She continued to mix the butter into the flour mixture with a new fervor.

  She was bound and determined to make the most of the situation.

  If her man gave her multiple orgasms, then the least she could do was give him the nutrients of a good meal to make sure he kept his stamina up.

  Marriage shouldn’t be too hard. Her mom and dad had made it look easy enough. Her mother stayed at home and took care of the family, had a warm meal on the table for dinner, and freshly laundered clothes every day. And, although Pippa had no desire to be, or ever could be, the traditional wife that her mother was, she did want to please her man. After all, if she only had a few months here at Second Chances Ranch, and she did promise to be his wife in every way, she should be able to manage.

  Out here in the country, she would have plenty of quiet time to write. She’d found a nook outside along the flower garden that would make a perfect place to start writing her fourth book—as long as she managed to convince the public that she was a happily married woman.

  A sense of excitement rolled through her at the prospect of adding a feminine touch to this place. She could paint. Add a vase or two of fresh flowers. And make the garden outside full of beautiful flowers. She’d never had any other goal besides finishing another chapter or conference. This was a change, and she liked it.

  She looked from the bowl of white chunks of flour to the step-by-step picture on her phone, sighing in frustration. They looked nothing alike. “Where did I go wrong?” she whispered.

  “I’d say the flour is supposed to be in the bowl and not the counter top and floor.”

  Snapping her chin up, she found Roman standing in the doorway. He looked good enough to eat in his sleeveless flannel and worn jeans. His hat was pushed back on his forehead, exposing his crystal blue eyes and hair-peppered jaw. “You weren’t supposed to see this. I thought you’d be working.”

  “I’m taking a break.” He strolled to the island and stopped, looking down at
the floor. “Is that a new rug?”

  She laughed. “No, that’s Bojangles—washed and brushed.” The dog rolled onto his back as if he wanted to show off his clean fur.

  “Well, well, Bojangles. You talked the lady into giving you a bath and allowing you in the house. I always knew you had it in you. Now, about this…” He slid his finger through the flour-coated counter.

  “I managed to get some flour into the bowl, but I don’t think that’s the problem.” She picked at the slimy blob.

  He chuckled. “What are you making?”

  “Crust for a pie,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks warm.

  “I’ve never made one myself, but I do know the butter is supposed to be chilled first.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve never made one before either.”

  She gave her head a shake. “That obvious?”

  “Commendable effort, sweetheart.

  “Wasted effort,” she moaned. “It might take me a bit longer to get the hang at cooking. Let’s hope the stew doesn’t burn.”

  “If all fails, I have freezer bags of homemade chili we can defrost.” He rounded the island. “Do you know how to use the microwave?”

  “Yes, I can use the microwave.” She picked up a pinch of flour from the bowl and tossed it at him.

  “Hey!” He laughed, swiping his hand across the island and then sweeping his fingers across her cheek.

  “Oh, that’s how you play, huh?” Dipping her hand into the glass jar, she grabbed up a handful of flour, and tossed it at him. The flour splattered all over his face and down the front of his shirt.

  “You’re going to get it now.” He slid his fingers into a bowl of butter, smearing it all over his palm. “I hear butter makes your hair prettier.”

  She took a step back, holding up her hands in surrender. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I wouldn’t? Sweetheart, if you think I won’t, then you don’t know me very well.” He strolled two steps closer and she backed up, rounding the island, still facing him.

  “Okay, I’m sorry about the flour, but at least it’ll swipe right off. Here, try this.” She grabbed the damp cloth from the counter and tossed it him. He caught it and laid it back down.

  “Too late, darlin’.” He rushed forward and snatched one arm around her waist, holding the butter inches from her face, so close that she could smell the creamy richness.

  She laughed as she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing, but only slightly. He teased her, but he didn’t do as he had threatened. Instead, he lowered his face to hers. “There’s something I couldn’t stop thinking of since I woke up.” He pulled her against his body.

  “Yeah? I’d like to hear exactly what that is.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing when he nuzzled her cheek with his chin.

  “My pleasure. You look hot covered in flour.” He pressed his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between the seam of her lips and parting them.

  She opened to him, loving that he’d stopped by to reward her with his touch.

  Then she felt a vibration in his pants.

  “Now that’s a new feeling,” she said.

  “Sorry. Probably one of my brothers with a question.”

  “Then by all means, answer it. I’ll start cleaning.”

  She’d just started wiping the counter down when a knock came on the front door. She looked at Roman who was busily explaining the details of a project to the person on the other end of the line and didn’t seem to notice. Uncertain of what she should do, she finally decided just to accept her role.

  Pulling open the door, a camera flash blinded her. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes when another flash came.

  “What the hell! This is private property.” Roman was beside her, gently pushing her back as he darted onto the porch, grabbing the man with the camera by the shirt collar and pressing him against the railing.

  “Oops, please, let’s not let things get out of hand.” A neatly attired woman stepped beside Roman, trying to wedge herself between him and the pale-faced, wide-eyed man who was clinging to his camera with one hand and attempting to push Roman away with the other. “Pippa? Do you remember me?” The woman looked over Roman’s shoulder, her dark eyes pleading.

  “Calista Donavon from the Chronicle Post?” She’d met her once at a charity event.

  “Yes. It’s me. Can you call off your bodyguard, please?” There was a slight tremor to the woman’s voice.

  “You know these people?” Roman shot her a questioning glance, his eyes deep in color.

  “Yes, I do. Please let go of the poor man. I think you’ve scared him enough.” Although she didn’t like being blinded by the flash, she didn’t want Roman to smash the man. Most men would be frightened of a man Roman’s size, and the cameraman certainly didn’t try to deny his fear.

  “I’m sorry just to show up like this,” Calista explained. “Your manager said you were interested in speaking with me for a write-up on your new book. He said he’d take care of the arrangements.”

  “I get poor phone service out here,” Pippa mumbled. And she hadn’t checked her emails in a while.

  Calista’s gaze skimmed Pippa. “Looks like this marriage thing suits you. Your complexion is rosy and is that flour?” She rubbed her finger over Pippa’s shoulder, wiping away some of the white residue.

  “Oh, yes. I’m making a pie.” And wearing more flour than was in the bowl. “You said you want an interview?”

  “We’ve all heard about the marriage.” The woman dropped her gaze over Roman and smiled broadly. “Now I see why you were in a hurry to snag your cowboy.”

  Roman still had a sharp edge to his jaw, but he’d released the man who was now swiping the wrinkles out of his shirt.

  “Yeah, when you’re in love, why wait.” Pippa chuckled and wrapped her arm around Roman’s waist, feeling his muscles ease some.

  “Will you answer a few questions? I promise they will be painless. People want to hear more about this relationship you’ve sprung on us. And you, Roman Jericho, are stirring up interest too. Relationship expert and rodeo star. Now that’s a combination worthy of a story.” She winked.

  “Ex rodeo-star,” Roman mumbled.

  Calista didn’t acknowledge him. “And you said you’re making a pie? Can we grab a couple of photos of you working in the kitchen? Ten minutes and we’ll be out of your hair, unlike the flour.”

  Pippa looked up at Roman, wanting his agreement, and he smiled. “Yes, sweetheart. You should show off that wonderful pie you were in the middle of preparing with those purty little hands.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

  Camera. Interview. Pie. Everything disappeared on the breeze as something warm and perplexing grew in the pit of her stomach. She could have easily forgotten they had company, until Calista cleared her throat. Pippa forced her brain back on track. “I’m afraid it’s not quite done. The pie.”

  “That’s okay. No problem. We just want to get a couple of shots, not the entire baking process. It’s not a cooking article, after all.” Calista was already heading toward the door with the cameraman close behind, but walking a wide circle around Roman.

  “Okay, fine. I don’t see a problem with that.”

  “Imagine the readers once they realize how in love you two are. It’s obvious.” Calista tapped her pen on her notebook. She stepped inside of the house and gave the living room a quick inspection. “Before we get started, will you tell us how you two lovebirds met?”

  “Where we met?” Pippa croaked.

  “Don’t be coy, darlin’. She’s a little shy when it comes to talking about that day.” Roman seemed as comfortable as a pig in a blanket. “She showed up at a rodeo event wearing the cutest pair of shorts and smile I’d ever seen. I took one look at her and knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that this woman was going to be my wife. It was written in the cards for us.”

  Pippa melted into the wooden planks. She leaned into him, caught up in his words and the feeling
building between her thighs. She needed to get control of herself before she gave Calista something very interesting to write about.

  “Pippa, any new keys to a successful marriage now that you’re married yourself?”

  She weeded through the clustered paths of her brain. How could she be expected to think at a moment like this? “Have fun learning each other. An exploration of mind and heart.”

  “And in bed too?” Calista brazenly asked.

  Pippa smiled. “I did marry a cowboy, didn’t I?”

  Calista fanned her face with her notebook. “Are all of your brothers single, Roman?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She jotted a note. “Maybe you’ll introduce me.” One corner of her mouth quivered.

  “Make my wife look as special as she is in your article and that can be arranged.”

  As they started for the kitchen, Pippa grabbed Roman’s hand and held him back, whispering, “You totally have her wrapped around your finger. Now I see why all of the women want to get to know you better.”

  He turned to her, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “There’s only one that I want to get to know better. Let’s hurry and get Calista and her shadow out of here so we can work on that very thing.”

  “I like that idea.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  PIPPA SNUGGLED DEEPER into the warm cocoon of the blanket and stretched her legs, her toes bumping something at the end of the bed. Opening one eye to a slit, she saw that Roman’s side of the bed was empty. The sun was up outside and considering he left the house at daybreak, he should have been long gone. Closing her eye, she attempted to drift back to sleep and into a dream of her adoring husband wrapping his arms around her…

  The springs in the bed squeaked as the bump at the bottom of the bed shifted.

  Coming to a sitting position, Pippa bit back a scream.

  Sitting at the end of the bed was a little girl with dark hair and pale blue eyes—the Jericho blue eyes. Pippa blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Umm…hi.”