by Judy Duarte
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Jason left the Wexler FedEx office. But before climbing into his pickup to return to the ranch, he walked a couple of doors down the street to La Galleria, the place where Juliana had worked.
He paused at the glass door for a moment, tamping down a last-minute reluctance to enter, then proceeded to walk in.
Two salesmen stood inside, ready to help an interested buyer. The one behind the register was short, balding and in his fifties. He didn’t seem to be a likely baby daddy possibility.
The other was the right age—midthirties, dark hair and not bad-looking, if you liked flashy dressers. His pearly white smile suggested he’d had some expensive cosmetic dentistry.
“Good afternoon,” Smiley said. “Let me know if I can be of any help.”
“I’m just looking,” Jason said as he browsed the artwork on display.
Juliana had mentioned that she had a couple of paintings on commission, so he bypassed the pottery and statues and focused on the art that hung on the walls instead. He had no idea whether he should be looking for oils or watercolors or a particular style, so he focused on the signatures instead.
Surprisingly, he found one. It was a cowboy riding the range. The man was in the distance and wore a black hat, so there weren’t any facial features to discern. But the trees were well done, as was the bay gelding he rode and the meadow on the hillside.
It wouldn’t go with the decor of his condominium or his office in the downtown high-rise, but Ralph the real estate agent had suggested he make the ranch appealing to buyers. The painting would look good over the mantel in the living room.
The price was five hundred dollars. He wondered how much of it Juliana would get. The bulk of it, he hoped.
“I like this one,” he said.
Sensing a sale, Smiley slid up next to him. “Nice choice. The artist also has two other paintings here.”
“I’d like to see them.”
Smiley moved to the left and pointed to one of a swimming hole that looked a lot like the one in Brighton Valley. A blonde girl with pigtails sat high on a branch, where a rope had been tied. It had swung over the water, and there was a big splash on the surface of the pond, as if another child had dropped underwater.
Just like in the first painting, the face was turned away and too far in the distance to recognize. It had to be the old swimming hole, although he didn’t remember so many wildflowers on the grass. Juliana must have added them for effect. It was a nice touch. The cowboy had been riding near a meadow, too. The fact that she appreciated flowers and color didn’t surprise him.
“And this is the third piece she has displayed,” Smiley added, pointing to a picture of an outhouse with a crescent moon carved on the door.
Now that was unusual, although what drew a smile to Jason’s lips were the saddled Appaloosa and the Australian shepherd seated on its haunches, apparently waiting patiently for their master to finish his business inside the outhouse.
Jason wasn’t an art aficionado, so he couldn’t comment on the quality or on Juliana’s skill. But he thought they were good—if you liked Western art.
“What do you know about this artist?” he asked.
“She has talent,” Smiley said.
“Is she local?”
“Yes.”
“How many of her pieces do you have?”
“Just three right now, although I can get more for you.”
Don’t bother, Jason nearly told him. I don’t need a middleman, especially you.
A woman entered, and Smiley turned to her. “Hey, baby. I’ll be with you in a few.”
“That’s all right. The kids and I can meet you at the hamburger place.”
“You go on and have dinner with your family,” the older man said. “I can lock up the gallery, Alex.”
So, Smiley had a name. As well as a wife and kids. Was that what Juliana had meant when she’d said that her baby daddy wasn’t the man he’d claimed to be?
Of course, Jason didn’t know for sure that Smiling Alex was the guy who’d misled her and asked her to get rid of the baby.
“Thanks, Loren.” Alex stepped away from Jason and made his way toward his family.” You don’t mind locking up for the night?”
“No. I’ll take care of things. You go on. The kids are probably hungry.”
“These rug rats are always hungry,” he said, mussing the hair of the tallest boy.
Maybe he was the baby daddy after all. Either way, Jason still didn’t care for him.
When Alex and his family left, Jason asked, “Do you work on commission?”
“Alex and I are co-owners,” Loren said, “so it doesn’t matter. And as for the artist you were asking about, she used to work here up until two months ago. I was sorry to lose her, but I suppose it was just as well. Once Alex purchased half the stock, he moved his family to Wexler, so we would have had to cut her hours anyway.”
“So,” Jason said, “I take it Alex isn’t from around here.”
“No, he was an art dealer who used to come to town regularly. But his wife got tired of all his traveling and asked him to settle down. He decided Wexler would be a good place to raise his kids and asked me if I’d like to sell half my stock in the gallery. I was thinking about retiring in the near future, so I agreed.”
“When did his wife and kids move here?”
“Just a few weeks ago. Right before Juliana left. I’ll sure miss that girl. She was like a daughter to me.”
Who else could Alex be but Juliana’s ex and the father of her baby? He was a real piece of work. He reminded Jason of his father. But Charles Rayburn had taken care of his kids—at least financially.
“I’ll take all three of these paintings,” Jason said.
Loren grinned. “Great. I’ll ring them up.”
The cost would be more than a thousand dollars, which was quite a bit to grace the walls of a ranch house Jason intended to sell. But he was determined to add to Juliana’s coffers.
And to give her another reason not to step foot in La Galleria again.
Chapter Six
Perspiration gathered at Juliana’s brow and neck, dampening her curls, so she left the list she’d been compiling in the dining room and headed to the bathroom to pull her hair into a ponytail. Then she proceeded to open the windows and turn on the fans, something she should have done much earlier in the day.
The muggy summer heat had filled the house until it was almost unbearable, and she was going to take a shower so she could cool off.
As she headed for the bathroom, the phone rang and she changed directions so she could answer. It was Jason.
“I hope you haven’t started cooking anything for dinner,” he said.
Apparently, it was her turn tonight. She glanced at the antique clock on the mantel. It was already after five, but she hadn’t even given it a thought. In fact, she wasn’t going to do anything before cooling down and taking a rest. And there was no way she’d be getting near a stove or an oven. “Not yet, but don’t expect anything fancy. I’m thinking a sandwich or a bowl of cereal is about all I have the energy for.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to bring something home. Do you like Chinese food?”
“That sounds great.”
“Good. I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.”
When the line disconnected, she grabbed a towel from the linen closet, then took a long, refreshing shower. Afterward, she lay down and closed her eyes for a short catnap.
She’d no more than rolled out of bed and entered the living room when she realized she’d dozed longer than she’d planned. Jason had already returned. He stood near the hearth, unwrapping a painting.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I went shopping while I was in Wexler.” As he cast aside the brown paper that had protected the artwork, he revealed the painting she’d done of Braden.
Not that Jason would recognize his brother’s favorite horse—or any of the p
laces where Juliana and Braden used to ride.
“What do you think?” He lifted the painting. “I need to sell everything in the house, but Ralph Nettles suggested I should have a few things here to attract the buyers. I thought some Western artwork on the walls might do the trick.”
Juliana crossed her arms. “I don’t understand.”
His smile faltered. “I stopped by the art gallery while I was in Wexler.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“I was just curious about the type of things they carried. And I liked this painting.”
Apparently, since he’d paid the five-hundred-dollar price.
“I also knew you could use the sale,” he added. “So it was a win-win for both of us.”
Something didn’t seem right. Juliana might have been gullible before Alex Montgomery waltzed into her life and spun his web of deceit, but she’d learned to be skeptical and wasn’t about to accept a handsome man’s explanation at face value anymore—especially if she had reason to believe he might have an ulterior motive.
Why had Jason gone into La Galleria? Was he snooping into her past? Was he trying to play on her vulnerabilities and buy her affections?
Staying here on the ranch, helping him out, wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped. And while she needed the money, she couldn’t risk getting caught up in another...what? Dead-end romance?
But what if she was making more out of it than it really was? What if he’d only been trying to help her out? She’d been overly trusting once. Was she too skeptical now?
He set the painting of Braden aside and reached for a smaller one he’d leaned against the brown recliner. “I picked up this one, too.”
As he unwrapped his next purchase, she realized he’d also chosen another piece she’d left on consignment at La Galleria—the one of her and Carly at the old swimming hole. Well, it wasn’t actually her. She would be the child who’d splashed underwater. But the blonde in pigtails on the branch was Jason’s younger sister.
Didn’t he realize that?
Maybe not. Her back and hair were the only things that showed. Juliana didn’t paint faces. At least not when her subjects were people she knew.
“Is this the old swimming pond?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded. “I wondered if anyone in Wexler would recognize it.”
“Most kids around here would,” he said. “But I don’t remember any wildflowers.”
“There are usually a few scattered about, but I added a lot more. I like color in my paintings.”
“It’s a nice touch. I thought the house could use a little pick-me-up, too, especially when Granny’s things are gone.”
So he was determined to resell her paintings along with the house. She supposed it didn’t matter that he didn’t plan to keep them for himself. After all, she would receive her commission. But part of knowing that her art had sold was believing the buyer had liked them enough to place them somewhere special, to sense the love she’d felt when she’d created them.
As Jason tore into the brown-paper wrapping of the third frame, she knew what he would uncover—the last remaining painting she’d left at La Galleria—the one of the old-style outhouse in a meadow.
Ironically, all the paintings were linked to the Rayburn family. Not that she’d done it on purpose. It’s just that her family ranch was gone, so she’d used the backdrops that were most familiar to her—Granny’s ranch and Braden’s.
The meadow where Braden rode his bay gelding was where she’d sometimes ridden with him, while the swimming hole was where Braden used to take her and Carly to swim.
And the outhouse?
That was the wildest connection of all—and really, just a figment of Juliana’s imagination. Granny had once told her and Carly that Harold Rayburn, her father-in-law, used to have an Appaloosa mare and a cattle dog that followed him everywhere he went. Why, folks said the poor man couldn’t even go to the outhouse by himself, Rosabelle had said. Those critters would wait outside till he came out.
The memory had just stuck, she supposed.
So while Jason was ridding the house of family memories, he was unknowingly replacing them with other Rayburn images on the walls.
Did she dare mention that to him?
In spite of what he planned to do with the Leaning R, it seemed as if the Rayburn family was destined to maintain some kind of claim on it anyway.
* * *
Jason had no more than opened the first takeout carton when Juliana swept into the kitchen like a cool summer breeze.
“I was just thinking,” she said, “it’s awfully warm in here. Why don’t we eat outside tonight?”
“Good idea. Let’s use paper plates, so there won’t be any cleanup. And if you’re comfortable with chopsticks, we won’t even have to wash silverware.”
Juliana tossed him a pretty smile. “Chinese food doesn’t taste nearly as good if you eat it with a fork.”
He studied her for a moment. She’d been wearing jeans when he’d left for Wexler. And now, in bare feet and a yellow sundress, she looked as fresh as the proverbial daisy. Or maybe a field of wildflowers. She smelled like it, too. Something floral. Jasmine, maybe?
“I don’t blame you for showering,” he said. “If I weren’t so hungry and didn’t want the food to get cold, I’d take one, too.”
“I couldn’t help it. I was busy and forgot to open up the windows. It got so warm and stuffy in here, I thought I’d melt.”
In the summer, the old house could get hotter than blazes some afternoons if you didn’t open things up and get the fans going early. Thank goodness Granny’s room had a swamp cooler in the window.
Jason wondered if he should talk to Ralph about putting in an air-conditioning unit. Would that make the property any more appealing to a buyer? That was the first thing he’d want to add to the place, along with updating the kitchen and bathrooms. But then again, some people might like the authentic appeal of an old-style ranch house.
“I saw some citronella candles in the mudroom yesterday,” Juliana added. “Maybe I should set them out on the porch to keep the bugs away.”
“I’ll set the table while you’re fighting off the mosquitoes.”
Five minutes later, they were seated outside, chopsticks in hand. The flames of four candles lined the wooden railing, flickering to fend off any winged insects out for blood. Yet it added an unintended romantic aura, too. And to make matters worse—or rather, nicer, depending upon how you looked at it—Ian chose that moment to sit on his own porch and strum his guitar, serenading them with a country love song.
“I didn’t know Ian was a musician,” she said. “Or that he could sing.”
“He plays to relax sometimes.”
“He’s very talented.”
Jason thought so, too, but he wasn’t sure he should comment for fear it would make it sound as if he’d planned a romantic dinner under the stars. Of course, Juliana was the one who’d suggested eating outside.
A slight breeze kicked up, cooling the air and making the night even more pleasant. Yet as hungry as he was, he couldn’t help but gaze at Juliana.
She was dressed casually this evening and had pulled her hair, a mess of damp red curls, into a ponytail that rode high on her head. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she didn’t need any props to draw a man’s eye. She had a natural beauty that must have blossomed sometime during her teen years. He wished he could have been around to see the transformation. It must have been something to watch unfold.
In the candlelight, she seemed prettier than ever. It was going to be tough to keep his hands—and his lips—to himself.
As she dug into the helping of chicken chow mein on her plate with a pair of chopsticks, she said, “Mmm. This is really good. Did you pick it up at Chin’s Dynasty in Wexler?”
“That’s the place.” Her former boss, the man who’d rung up the sale for Smiling Alex, had suggested it.
Jason hadn’t planned to talk to her about the gallery o
r about the men who worked there. Yet now that the subject had come up, he couldn’t stop the niggle of curiosity from building until it urged him to say, “I met the newest owner of La Galleria.”
Her movements stilled, the empty chopsticks dangling between her fingers as though they might fall onto her plate.
“Did you know he was married?” Jason asked.
“Of course not!” Shock and anger splashed across her face, yet he’d bet his question had hurt her, too.
In the background, Ian played another song about love that would last forever and ever. But there wasn’t anything romantic, sweet or eternal about the conversation Jason had just broached.
He wished he could reel the question back. It really wasn’t any of his business. Yet for some crazy reason, he wanted to know the details—needed to know them.
Juliana lay down her chopsticks, picked up her napkin and blotted her lips. “I told you he wasn’t the man he led me to believe he was. If I’d known he was married or in a committed relationship I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. But I thought I was the only woman he was seeing, the only woman he cared about. I didn’t even know he had children.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason said. And he was. He might not make long-term commitments, but he never lied to the women he dated or made promises he couldn’t keep.
A few moments passed, yet Juliana hadn’t commented on his apology—nor had she picked up her chopsticks again.
“Do you still love him?” he asked.
“No. I loved the man I thought he was, but not the jerk he turned out to be. And once I learned the truth about him, I quit my job and left town.”
“So you leaving your job had nothing to do with his family moving to Wexler?”
The look she shot him could have humbled a lesser man.
Hell, it humbled him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to question your ethics or to stir up old wounds. I was just...curious. And concerned.”
“Don’t be. I’m going to be just fine.”
“I’m sure you will be.” But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like to punch the married baby daddy’s lights out.
