by Dena Blake
“I’m happy just the way things are, Marcia.”
“Right.” Marcia let out a breath. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, thanks. I’ll let you know if I need something.” DJ caught sight of a mileage sign ahead. Seventy-five miles to paradise.
“It says here to stop at the gate and push the button on the intercom for directions to the office.” Marcia’s tone sweetened. “Now, you just relax and have a good time. I’m sure you can use the break.”
“Thanks.” DJ hit the end-call button on the screen and tossed her phone onto the passenger seat.
By the time DJ drove up to the huge wrought-iron gates of the Jumpin’ J Ranch, it was almost eight o’clock and the gates were wide open. They were probably left that way during the day. They looked to be electronic and were most likely controlled by the key-card slot on the intercom. Rolling the car up next to it, she pushed the button and waited for a response.
“Jumpin’ J Ranch. May I help you?” a woman’s voice chanted.
“DJ Callahan. I have a reservation.”
“Yes, Ms. Callahan. We’re expecting you. After you come through the gates, take an immediate right, and that road will lead you directly to the registration office.”
“Thank you.” DJ threw her BMW 440i convertible into gear and sped through the gates. She drove the short distance and cursed as gravel from the road clanked noisily against the wheel wells of the car. She parked, and after superficially inspecting the black clear-coat paint, she proceeded up the steps to the registration building.
“Don’t they believe in asphalt out here?” she said to the wisp of a girl behind the counter, who was probably barely into her twenties.
“I’m afraid you’re in the country now, Ms. Callahan. Things are a little different out here.” The young woman behind the counter smiled politely. “I’ll need a credit card and a driver’s license, please.”
DJ raised an eyebrow. “Then I would think, being in the country and all, you people would be a little more trusting.”
“Things aren’t that different.” She gave her a subtle wink.
She managed a smile as she fished her wallet from her bag, then tossed the items onto the counter. “What kind of room do I have?”
“You’re staying in what we call a guest lodge, complete with a minibar and Jacuzzi.”
“King-size bed?”
“Extra-long, eighty-five inches.”
“My assistant booked it,” she mumbled in explanation. In truth, after one too many nights of sleeping in beds not quite long enough to accommodate her six-foot frame, DJ made a habit of asking before paying.
“I just need you to sign here, and you’re all set.” The girl marked the spot and handed her a pen. DJ signed and pushed the paper across the counter.
“Here’s your key card, Ms. Callahan. You’ll need it for both your room and the main gate if you come or go after hours. If you happen to lose it, just let us know, and we’ll get you another one.”
“Thanks,” she said, slipping it into her back pocket. “Where do I go to find my room?”
She slid a small map of the grounds across the counter. “Here’s where you are now.” She tapped her pen over a small structure on the paper. “And here’s your lodge.” She trailed the pen an inch or so and circled a larger building. “Go back out to the road you came in on and then take a right. After about a half mile, you’ll see the barn on your left. Take the next right. Yours is the first one on the left.”
“What are these other buildings?” She traced her finger across the map.
“Those are bunkhouses.”
She drew her brows together. “Bunkhouses?”
“They’re used for deluxe cowpoke packages. With that package, you room in a bunkhouse with up to ten other guests of the same gender.”
Her eyes widened as they flew up to meet the young lady’s. “I do have a private room, don’t I?” She’d had her fill of roommates in college and wasn’t about to put up with a bunch of cowhands snoring through the night. She was too old and set in her ways to make those kinds of sacrifices.
The young lady’s smile broadened. She was apparently amused at her frenetic reaction.
“Sort of. Your sleeping space has a sliding door, but you do have to use the community bathroom in the building.”
“That’s all you have available?”
“I did have a private room when your assistant booked, but she thought you’d like this better.”
“Seriously?” I’m gonna kill her.
The girl nodded. “I can probably have you moved to one in a day or two, but right now they’re all full.”
“It’ll have to do.” She hoped she could finish her business with Kathryn Jackson right away and wouldn’t have to stay more than a day or two.
“The rooms really aren’t bad for the amount of time you spend in them.” She moved her pen across the paper, continuing with her detail of the grounds. “This is what we call the chow shack, but it’s really just a cafeteria. The bar and the general store are located in the same building.”
“You have a bar?”
“Yep. It’s a friendly little place. Stays busy most nights with guests and townfolk.”
“What’s this little house here?” DJ pointed to an unlabeled square on the page.
“That’s Mrs. Jackson’s house. It’s off-limits to the guests,” the girl said.
“Jackson as in Jumpin’ J?” DJ kept her eyes glued to the map.
“Yep. They should probably take it off the map, but it’s a good landmark.”
DJ looked up at the girl. “She doesn’t like to mingle with her guests?” DJ’s mind was working. The house was off-limits, but the map didn’t show any kind of barrier between it and the rest of the grounds.
The girl’s lips spread into a soft smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll see plenty of her during your stay.”
“Thank you for your time, miss.” She tipped her hat and headed out the door.
A gravel road, framed in white iron-rod fencing, actually did lead DJ directly to paradise. Horses grazed in the fields, and abundant trails meandered up into flourishing, tree-covered hills. The ranch was beautiful. Almost too beautiful. As she inched the car forward, the usually dormant feelings beginning to twist in her gut overwhelmed her. Who would’ve thought the scent of horse manure would bring them out in such force?
DJ threw the shift knob into neutral and let the car glide to a stop on the side of the road. She had to get a grip on her emotions. She couldn’t very well show up on Kathryn Jackson’s doorstep with tears streaming down her cheeks. While she’d been living full-time in the city, she hadn’t had to deal with the persistent feelings that still dwelled in her heart. She wiped the moisture from her cheeks, sucked in a ragged breath, and flipped the visor mirror open to check her reflection. She removed the small amount of black from under her eyes before she popped the gearshift into place and continued farther.
Definitely a cowgirl’s paradise, she thought, gliding into the space in front of the guest lodge. The building looked like an old horse stall. Noting the old-fashioned carpentry, she laughed. That’s exactly what it was, an old horse stall. Only now, it had been framed out into separate rooms. She roamed the hallway and found her space, as the young lady called it, to be the third stall on the left. The room consisted of a bed, not very wide, but extra-long, a dresser with a mirror, and a small refrigerator. The space wasn’t great but not as bad as she’d imagined. After tossing her duffel and hat onto the bed, she walked to the end of the hall, found the bathroom, and surveyed the multiple sinks, toilets, and shower stalls. This part of the ranch wasn’t DJ’s idea of paradise, but at least the place was clean.
After unpacking, DJ went outside and took the short walk over to the little white house with blue trim. She wanted to get a look at how the ill-mannered eldest daughter of Elizabeth Belmont lived. She stopped at the corral just across from the house, slung her arms across the top railing, and nodded at the you
ng, dark-haired man leading a horse carrying a little girl around the circle. She looked enough like him to be his sister, but at second glance, seeing the gentle way he tended to her, DJ figured he was more likely her father. DJ’s father had started her and her brother and sister riding the same way.
Chapter Four
Virgil picked up the phone on the second ring and pressed it to his ear.
“Oh yeah?” His lips curved into a wide smile.
He chuckled. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“You got another live one coming.” Virgil winced as he took a sip of hot, black coffee. “City girl, straight from Austin. DJ somethin’ or other.”
Kat kept her eyes fixed on the work schedule for the day. “Good. I can use an extra set of hands today. Is she ready to work?” The Jumpin’ J Ranch was definitely not the place to go if you were looking for a relaxing vacation. All the guests here were required to participate in the many tasks that kept it running, from cleaning out horse stalls to herding cattle. When you stayed at the Jumpin’ J, you received the full experience, which also meant pulling your own weight.
“Dunno, but I get the feelin’ she didn’t book the stay herself,” he said as he peeled away a stray fleck of peach-colored paint from the window pane.
Kat eyed her father-in-law. His voice was too cheerful. Something was up. “What makes you say that?”
“Take a look.” Without turning, he raised his hand and gave her a two-fingered motion.
Kat pushed away from the kitchen table, and the metal chair legs vibrated against the old linoleum floor. She wandered over to the screen door and peered out through the mesh. There, by the corral, stood a tall woman with a head full of short, unruly curls the color of a pearl palomino. Dressed in khaki shorts, a white polo shirt, and loafers, she leaned easily with her arms draped across the top rail of the corral, stroking Minow’s cheek.
“Not another one.” Kat let out a groan of aggravation. Plucking her baseball cap from the door peg, she slipped it on and tugged her ponytail through the hole.
Virgil grinned in amusement. “I’m sure you’ll have her whipped into shape in no time.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the confidence.” She went out the screen door, letting it slam behind her. Virgil enjoyed watching Kat break in the city folks. It drove her crazy when someone showed up expecting to be catered to as if they were staying at a luxury resort.
“Welcome to the Jumpin’ J, Ms…”
“Calla…Callen.” DJ cleared her throat. “DJ Callen.”
“Ms. Callen.” Kat gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “I’m Kathryn Jackson. Most people call me Kat.”
DJ casually glanced over her shoulder, and Kat got the feeling she was being checked out. The woman was attractive enough, but that kind of attention was something to which Kat had never grown accustomed.
“Do you know how to work a horse, Ms. Callen?” Kat asked in a pleasantly sweet Texas drawl.
“I’m not here to work. I’m here to relax,” DJ said as she turned to face her.
“Well, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. This is a working ranch, Ms. Callen. Everybody pitches in. Including the guests,” Kat said, her voice turning firm yet still holding its soft, feminine edge.
Not making eye contact with DJ, she led Minow out of the corral. Kat was careful not to give the solo guests any sort of encouragement. She preferred families, but unfortunately, part of her clientele consisted of single women and men looking to work more than just the ranch.
“Good morning to you, too.” DJ’s pointed tone prompted Kat to stop and square her shoulders.
Kat bit her tongue, swallowing the caustic retort waiting to roll off the tip of it. After all, the woman was a guest. Maybe she was just at the wrong place. “If you’re not up for it, perhaps you’d like to move to the lodge down the road. They have a nice pool to float around in there. I’m sure you could handle that.”
The woman’s bland expression didn’t change until one side of her lip tugged up into a cockeyed smile. “I think I’d rather stay here.”
The way DJ looked at her prompted a fleeting shiver to run the gamut through Kat. She suddenly felt like DJ was a hawk and she was her prey.
“All right then. All you have to do is walk the horse around the corral a few times.” Kat led Minow to DJ, reached up, and took the bridle off. “It goes on like this.” She slid the bit into the horse’s mouth and the leather strap over her head. “There’s another bridle on the fence.” She flipped her head toward it. “Now, if you would, Ms. Callen, please get that filly over on the other side of the corral and give her a little workout.” Kat hiked her leg up, slid her foot into the stirrup that hung just about at her waist, and then swung onto the horse. “Oh, and when you’re finished with that one, you’ll find five more in the stable,” Kat added before riding off to the barn.
What was that about? Her first instinct had been to welcome DJ, as she usually did with new guests. But when she’d caught a glimpse of DJ’s sea-green eyes, Kat’s survival instincts had kicked in at full force. She’d totally surprised herself with the attitude-filled banter she’d spluttered.
Kat climbed the steps, leaned against the loft opening, and watched DJ slip the bit into the filly’s mouth. After sliding the leather strap over the horse’s head, she stroked her gently before guiding her around the corral. A welcome breeze swept through the loft, and Kat smiled. She wasn’t impressed, just a little surprised to see that the city girl seemed to have a way with horses.
Kat was busy tossing hay from the loft when DJ came into the barn with the freshly exercised filly.
“Any particular horse you want me to take out next?” DJ shouted up to Kat, sputtering when a pile of hay flew down on top of her.
“Sorry,” Kat said, doing her best to contain a chuckle. “Stall number five, the brown one with the white spot on her nose.” She continued tossing hay on top of her. “But be careful. Sometimes she can be a little temperamental.”
Kat peeked over the edge and saw the horse tied to the barn door latch but no sign of DJ. She jumped at her voice behind her.
“Didn’t you see me standing there?”
“Geez,” she said, spinning around and losing her balance.
DJ grabbed at her arm in what Kat took to be an attempt to lessen her fall, but she was too far gone, and DJ fell along with her into the hay. Sprawled out flat on top of her, DJ chuckled as Kat struggled beneath her.
“This isn’t funny, Ms. Callen. Please move.” The weight of DJ’s shoulder smashed against Kat’s face, along with the potent smell of her cologne, was smothering. She struggled and twisted, fighting to catch just the smallest amount of fresh air.
DJ eased up onto her elbows, and her smile widened when Kat put both hands on her shoulders and shoved DJ off to one side.
“Ouch.” DJ’s smile faded quickly.
Kat shrugged, scrambling to her feet. “Really? Like little old me could actually hurt you.”
“I’m not kidding,” DJ said gruffly, her voice showing definite signs of anguish.
Kat brushed the hay aside and saw that three out of four pitchfork tips had punctured the fabric of DJ’s shorts.
“Oh my God!” She dropped to her knees and quickly removed the implement.
“Hey, take it easy there.” Her voice rose momentarily.
Kat pushed DJ’s shorts up slightly to examine the small scratches. She swept her fingers across the bare skin below them, and DJ tensed momentarily, magnifying the muscle in her thigh.
“They’re just flesh wounds.” Kat lifted the fabric to check for further damage and hesitated when a rush of warmth cursed her body. “You’ll be all right.” She took a bandana from her pocket, soaked it with bottled water, and cleaned the wounds.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” DJ would be fine, but Kat didn’t know what the hell was going on with her. She dropped the cotton fabric quickly and offered DJ her hand, hoping she didn’t notice the heat simmering in her che
eks. “If you go over to the house, Virgil will tend to it for you.”
“Thanks.” DJ rubbed her thigh gently as she stood up. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Suit yourself,” Kat said and returned to moving the hay.
DJ descended the steps and stood just beneath the loft.
“If you’re sure you’re okay, those horses still need to be worked.” She tossed another pile of hay on top of her. “Oh, and you might want to cut back on the cologne a bit. The horses don’t care for it much.”
“Do you see me standing here?” DJ shouted, brushing the hay from her shoulders.
“Yep.” Kat tossed another pile over the edge and smiled. “If I were you, I’d have moved by now.”
“People actually pay for this?” DJ left the barn, plucking hay from her hair.
* * *
Kat pushed the hay to the side and stood at the edge of the loft opening. Plenty of guests were in the corral today, but without the faintest idea why, Kat kept her eyes glued on one in particular, DJ Callen. She just couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the city girl with the muscular thighs.
She watched her lead another horse out of the stable and gently stroke the powerful animal before sliding the saddle onto its back. After cinching it tight, she tried to put her foot in the stirrup, and the horse jerked away quickly.
Kat could see DJ talking as she circled around to face the horse. She stroked the horse’s neck and seemed to be soothing it with her voice until the animal rested its head on her shoulder. Then she moved slowly next to the horse and slid her foot into the stirrup again. The horse stood perfectly still for DJ this time, and she mounted her easily. Riding slowly at first, she had the horse worked into a gallop before they went up the trail and into the trees.
Kat skipped down the steps and smiled to herself about the unwavering stranger. Not as much of a city girl as she makes herself out to be after all. She filled the water barrel in the corral before walking across the yard to the house. Virgil met her at the door with a large, cold glass of water.
