by Karen Foley
Holt scowled. She made him sound like a decrepit old man. “I’m a safe driver, not slow. I won’t put lives at risk just to get somewhere five minutes quicker.”
“Well. That’s very commendable.”
Holt slanted a swift look in her direction. She was looking straight ahead, but even in the dim light of the cab, he could see the smile on her face.
“What?” he demanded. “Why are you laughing?”
She shook her head, schooling her expression. “I’m not. Really. It’s just that—”
“Go on.”
She glanced at him. “Emmaline told me you’re very responsible.”
Holt couldn’t prevent the scoffing sound of disgust that escaped him. He wasn’t unaware of his reputation as being dependable. Reliable.
Boring.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No,” she protested. “Not at all. I respect that about you, but don’t you ever want to . . . I don’t know . . . let loose a little?”
Holt took his eyes from the road long enough to give her a steady look. “No.”
“Hmm.”
That one small utterance carried a wealth of meaning. Holt’s hands flexed on the steering wheel and he resisted the urge to defend himself. The truth was, he’d let loose once and what had it gotten him? A two-timing wife, an ugly divorce, and near bankruptcy. If not for his maternal grandfather, he might never have recovered from the financial loss.
Holt’s mother had been the only child of oil magnate Charles Blaisdell and his wife, Grace. Growing up, Holt had been close to his grandparents and had spent most of his school vacations at their home in Dallas. He’d known they were wealthy, but he hadn’t known just how wealthy until after they were gone and he’d inherited his grandfather’s fortune. That had been three years after his messy divorce. If his ex-wife had realized he’d one day come into a substantial amount of money, would she have stayed with him? Thankfully, he’d never know. But if that experience had taught him one thing, it was to keep his private life that—private.
He’d invested most of the money he’d inherited, using a portion of it to start his cattle-breeding business with Emmaline’s fiancé, Cort Channing. Beyond that, Holt didn’t think much about his wealth. He lived a simple life, like his grandfather had. The money he’d acquired was incidental to his interests in running the ranch and raising cattle. He refused to let it define him.
So if he chose to live a risk-averse life, he had his reasons. And the biggest risk of all would be to let loose and give in to the overwhelming attraction he felt for Jessica Montero. She was the kind of woman you married, and he’d sworn never to go down that road again. No matter how much she appealed to him.
“Here we are,” he said as he turned down the gravel road that led to her house.
Jessie lived in a small, one-story cabin on the banks of the Pedernales River, about three miles beyond the Claiborne ranch. One of several cottages that were popular with the summer tourists, it stood on wooden pilings and had a wide deck that faced the water. Pulling up to the house, he shifted the truck into park and rested his hands on the steering wheel. A motion light on the corner of the house came on, illuminating the deck and the riot of colorful blooms that spilled from the flower boxes. He could see several comfortable outdoor chairs and a small table on the deck, and wondered if she ever entertained there, and with whom.
“Thanks for the ride,” Jessie said. “And what my grandmother said about retiring—”
“She’s right,” Holt said. “She deserves to spend the rest of her life enjoying herself. If we sounded less than enthusiastic, it’s only because we’ve come to depend on her for so much. But we’ll figure it out.”
“Well, that’s just it,” she said. “You don’t need to figure anything out.”
Holt slanted his head to look at her. In the dim light of the dashboard, he could see her chewing on her lower lip, and her expression looked both hopeful and apologetic. Alarm bells went off in his head. “Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”
“It doesn’t matter if you like it or not,” she countered. “Because the decision has already been made.”
“What decision?” Holt asked, but a part of him already knew what she was going to say.
Jessie smiled brightly. “Beginning tomorrow, I’m your new housekeeper and cook.”
Chapter Three
Jessie arrived early at Riverrun Ranch the following morning to pack up some clothing and other belongings that her grandmother had requested. But before she did that, she made her way to the expansive kitchen and set the coffee pot to begin brewing in two hours, which was when the Claiborne men typically sat down to eat breakfast together. That was just one of the things she admired about them; they seemed to genuinely enjoy each other’s company and they always had each other’s backs. She popped the egg and sausage casserole that she’d prepared the night before into the oven and set the timer. She’d discovered enough fresh fruit to put together a fruit salad, which she placed in the fridge. Then she quickly set the table and made her way to Rosa-Maria’s apartment.
With its own separate parking and entrance, the apartment had a comfortable living area and kitchenette, with an adjoining bedroom and bath. The space had been added after Emmaline was born, in order to accommodate a live-in nanny. Emmaline’s mother, Natalie, had been raised in the Hudson Valley region, just outside of New York City, and apparently au pairs had been all the rage. She’d insisted on having one for Emmaline and the boys, and Gus had indulged her by building the addition. But while the apartment had lasted, the marriage, unfortunately, had not. Following his divorce from Natalie, Gus had hired Rosa-Maria as a housekeeper and cook for himself and his children, and she had moved into the apartment when the boys were young.
Jessie could have remained in her own house rather than moving into the apartment, but that would have defeated the purpose of agreeing to take the job in the first place. She planned to insert herself into Holt’s life as much as possible and living at the house would make that easier. Gus had agreed that having her live at Riverrun Ranch, even for just a month, made sense, but Jessie thought he would have agreed to anything Rosa-Maria had asked of him.
Being in Holt’s house felt a little surreal. For the first time ever, she wasn’t here to see his sisters or her grandmother. She was here to see him. To get to know him on a personal level. To hopefully make him notice her and maybe even want to get to know her better too. Stepping back from Rosa’s Cantina would also make her father realize he could run the restaurant without her. She enjoyed working at the cantina, but she had a dream of owning her own food truck and serving authentic Mexican street food at the local festivals and rodeos.
Her father disapproved of her plans. He thought she should continue to work at the cantina until he retired, but he was only in his midforties so that day was literally years away. Jessie didn’t want to wait any longer to get her Mexican food truck business up and running. She had her eye on a secondhand truck and would soon have enough money saved to purchase it. Her father might scoff at the idea of selling Mexican street food in such a small community, but Last Stand drew plenty of tourists and had more than its share of festivals and rodeos. And she was nothing if not determined.
She would make this work.
It didn’t take long for Jessie to pack up her grandmother’s clothing and the few personal items she had requested, including a small collection of photos. One picture, in particular, caught Jessie’s attention. The photo was of Holt and his brothers when they had been little boys. She guessed Holt would have been no more than ten years old, and the twins looked to be about six or seven. Holt stood with an arm slung around each of his brothers’ narrow shoulders, but while the twins were laughing into the camera, Holt’s expression was one of almost adultlike seriousness. His hair had been lighter then, almost blond, but the volatile blue eyes hadn’t changed, staring into the camera with an intensity t
hat belied his age.
Jessie sighed, her heart aching for the boy he had been. She wrapped the photo in bubble wrap before placing it alongside the others. Picking up the box, she was preparing to carry it to her car when she heard masculine voices from the main part of the house and realized the Claiborne men had returned. She hadn’t seen anyone when she’d arrived at six o’clock that morning, but that hadn’t surprised her. Gus and his sons were typically up before dawn to take care of chores before they returned to the house for breakfast.
Setting the box down, she made her way through the main house and toward the kitchen to ensure the breakfast casserole had finished cooking. She heard Holt’s voice first, and his words made her pause in the hallway outside the kitchen.
“Do we really need a full-time cook?” He sounded doubtful. “We’re grown men. I think we can fix our own meals.”
“Speak for yourself,” Evan retorted. “Do you smell that amazing aroma? That’s your breakfast cooking. Jessie did that, for us. What were you planning to eat? Granola?”
“I appreciate that she came in and prepared breakfast for us,” Holt said. “But she has her own life; she doesn’t need to spend it waiting hand and foot on us.”
“It’s already been decided,” Gus interjected. “For the foreseeable future, Jessie is our new housekeeper and cook and there’s no more discussion on the issue.”
Holt made a sound that could only be described as frustration. “If you’re so determined to have someone do the cooking and cleaning, fine. I won’t argue. But why does it have to be her?”
Despite his mild tone, Jessie was momentarily taken aback. Did Holt really dislike her so much? What had she ever done to earn such hostility? Gus, apparently, had similar thoughts.
“What has that young woman ever done to you, son?”
“Not a thing, and I have nothing against her,” Holt said. “I just think it’s unfair to expect her to leave her job and her house to come work at the ranch. The position suited Rosa-Maria, but Jessica will be bored to tears out here. She’s accustomed to working in a busy restaurant; this is just us guys.”
“Maybe’s she’s looking forward to a change in scenery,” Evan countered.
“We made Rosa-Maria a promise,” Gus replied.
“What kind of promise?”
“She refused to retire unless Jessie filled in for her.” Gus paused. “She was adamant about it.”
Evan gave a rueful laugh. “And you agreed? We could have had Rosa-Maria back here in just a few weeks if you’d refused.”
“Is that really what you want?” Gus sounded appalled. “For Rosa-Maria to come back to work and risk another heart attack? No, she deserves to retire and having Jessie here makes sense. Our family knows her, she’s trustworthy, and she went to culinary school, so she’s an excellent chef.”
At that moment, the timer on the oven went off. Jessie didn’t want to hear any more discussion about herself, so she drew in a deep breath and strode into the kitchen as though she hadn’t just been lurking in the hallway, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “I hope you’re hungry. I made an egg-and-sausage casserole for you.”
They each mumbled a good-morning and cleared a path for her as she turned off the oven and grabbed some potholders. Holt moved to the other side of the large kitchen island, and Jessie was aware of him watching her. But when their eyes met, he abruptly turned away to refill his coffee. Jessie pulled the casserole out of the oven, checking that it was cooked through before carrying it over to the table. One of the ranch dogs, Sam, lay beneath the table and now he lifted his head, his nose twitching.
“Wow, Jess, that smells amazing,” Evan said with appreciation.
“Thank you. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get the rest of the breakfast together?”
Luke entered the kitchen from the back terrace, with Elsa at his heels. With a single hand gesture from him, the German shepherd lay down and rested her muzzle on her paws, her dark eyes never leaving Luke. He set his hat down on the island as his gaze swept the room. “Morning, Jess,” he said. “I didn’t see your car.”
“I parked on the other side of the house. I packed up some things for my abuela,” she said, taking the fruit salad out of the fridge and placing it on the table alongside a pitcher of orange juice. Rosa-Maria had made biscuits and gravy the day before, and now Jessie warmed the gravy in the microwave.
“Well, that’s it,” she said, when everything was on the table. “Dig in, and I’ll be back in a bit to clean up.”
“Why don’t you join us?” Gus said, indicating the chair next to his own.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she protested, even as her stomach rumbled.
“Rosa-Maria would eat with us sometimes,” Evan said, as he sat down and reached for a biscuit. “I don’t see why you can’t do the same.”
Still, Jessie wavered. She didn’t want to set a precedent and Holt’s words still rang in her ears. Why does it have to be her? She knew when she wasn’t welcome.
“Have a seat, Jessica,” Holt said and pulled out a chair for her. “You need to eat, and if your casserole tastes half as good as it smells, I guarantee there won’t be any leftovers. Better grab some while you can.”
Too surprised to argue, Jessie nodded. Holt rarely ever addressed her directly but when he did, he always called her Jessica. Never Jessie, or Jess. She liked that about him.
“Okay, if you’re sure I’m not intruding,” she replied.
“Not at all,” Gus assured her, and retrieved another plate and set of cutlery.
They insisted she serve herself first and when she saw the enormous portions they helped themselves to, she understood why. There would definitely be no leftovers. They ate with gusto, clearly enjoying the food.
“Will you visit your grandmother today?” Gus asked her between bites.
Jessie carefully wiped her mouth. “Yes, of course. I spoke with my father earlier. He said they’ll run some more tests today, but they expect to release her by the end of the week.”
“So soon?”
“They assured us that with some lifestyle modifications, she should be fine. She’ll stay with my parents, at least until she decides where she wants to live.”
“I meant what I said about the cabin,” Luke said. “Jorie and I will be out of there by the middle of next week, so she’s more than welcome to take it for herself, for as long as she wants.”
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Gus said. “She’d have her privacy, and we’d still be able to see her every day.”
“Thank you, I’ll let her know. But the final decision is hers,” Jessie said. “She has some savings, so don’t be surprised if she insists on paying a fair rent. If she even agrees to stay there, that is.”
“I’m heading over to the hospital this morning,” Gus said. “I’ll convince her.”
“And what about you?” Holt lifted his head to pin her with an assessing look.
“What about me?”
“Are you sure you want to stay here?”
Jessie found herself momentarily disconcerted by the question, but she was prepared. Staying at the house was essential to her plan, so instead of letting him see her flustered, she gave him a bright smile, reminding herself that she’d dealt with worse customers.
“Absolutely. I think it makes sense, don’t you?”
Holt’s brow creased into the frown she was becoming so familiar with. “Your house is just a few miles away. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?”
“Maybe. But it’s more convenient for me to stay here, especially if I’m preparing breakfast every morning.” She poured herself a glass of orange juice and glanced at his set features. “Relax, cowboy. I’m not moving in permanently, if that’s what’s worrying you. And I promise not to tell anyone if you have weird bachelor habits.”
Evan smothered a laugh.
“I’m not worried,” Holt said, but a glint of curiosity had entered his eyes
. “What kind of weird habits do you think I might have?”
Jessie shrugged and rounded her eyes at him over the rim of her juice glass. “I don’t know. Maybe you wear bunny slippers in the morning, or you drink milk straight out of the carton.”
She noted with relief the humor that curved his wide mouth. He took a forkful of casserole. “No bunny slippers in my wardrobe and as far as drinking from the container—you’ve got the wrong brother.”
“Hey, no fair,” Evan protested, but he grinned unabashedly. “I’m only guilty if you catch me.”
Holt washed down his last bite of casserole with a gulp of coffee. “So, you’re here solely for the convenience?”
Jessie could have given him the truth—that she was there solely for him—but that would have to be her and her grandmother’s secret, at least for now.
“Holt,” Gus chided softly. “Jessie’s going to think you don’t want her here and I know that’s not the case.”
Holt set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes from Jessie. His gaze held a hint of challenge. “I just don’t think it’s necessary for her to live here. We’re a house of bachelors, Jessica. Sure you’re up for this?”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Well,” Jessie finally said, making a show of folding her napkin, “my understanding is that I’m here to cook and do some light housekeeping. But if there’s going to be anything kinky involved, I’ll have to ask for more money.”
Evan gave a hoot of laughter and even Luke grinned. Risking a glance at Gus, she saw his blue eyes were bright with amusement. Only Holt looked less than amused.
“For starters,” Gus said, before Holt could speak again, “this is what Rosa-Maria wanted. Moreover, I asked Jessie to stay here as a personal favor to me. She’s making a huge sacrifice in agreeing to help us out, so the least we can do is make it as convenient for her as possible. Besides which, I find we’re all better behaved when there’s a female in the house.”
