How to Catch a Cowboy (Riverrun Ranch Book 3)

by Karen Foley

  “Great.” Holt pushed back his chair and stood. Gathering up his dishes, he carried them over to the counter and deposited them into the sink before grabbing his hat from the hook and striding out the door, letting the screen door slam in his wake.

  “Well,” Evan amended wryly, “some of us are better behaved.”

  Jessie set her juice glass down. “Maybe he really does have bunny slippers in his closet.”

  Inwardly, she was mortified by Holt’s rudeness, but she wouldn’t let his father or brothers see how much his behavior impacted her. Rising, she began collecting up the rest of their dishes. Gus stood and forestalled her with one hand on her arm.

  “I’ll speak to him. I hope you know how much we welcome your presence here.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t need to say anything to him. I can handle Holt.”

  Gus nodded. “Good. Well, I’ll be in my office. Come see me if you have any questions about anything.”

  “Don’t worry, Jess,” Luke said after Gus had left the kitchen. “I’ll have a talk with Holt.”

  “I’m really not worried,” Jessie said. “I actually expected something like this, just not so . . . blatant. I’ll say something to him when I see him again.”

  “That should be interesting.” Evan snagged another biscuit before scooping up the empty casserole dish and carrying it over to the sink. “I’m sure he doesn’t have an issue with you being here, Jess. Just stay out of his bedroom.”

  Jessie looked sharply at him. Had he somehow guessed her feelings about Holt? Worse, did he really think she was the kind of woman who would sneak into Holt’s bedroom? She couldn’t prevent the warm rush of heat that rose into her cheeks at the lurid images his words evoked. But Evan was already turning back toward the table to grab the fruit bowl and the butter dish.

  “Why on earth would I go into his bedroom?”

  Evan shrugged. “To get his laundry or change his sheets. He prefers to take care of his own stuff. He hates for anyone to do things for him that he can do himself.”

  “Ah, duly noted,” she said, relief flooding through her. “He doesn’t want anyone to see the bunny slippers. Got it.”

  “By the way,” Evan added, “today is sheets-and-towels day.”

  “For everyone except Holt,” Jessie clarified.

  “Now you’re catching on.”

  After Luke and Evan left, Jessie finished cleaning the kitchen, thinking about the morning’s events. She suspected that Holt’s attitude toward her stemmed from a rooted wariness of women in general. It made sense, given his history, and she preferred that reason to the alternative—that he disliked her. He’d always been affectionate toward his sisters and she knew how much he loved Rosa-Maria, but she realized she’d never actually seen him with any woman outside his family.

  Glancing at her watch, she saw she had several hours before she needed to think about preparing lunch. She’d already planned to make hearty BLT sandwiches and homemade chips, which wouldn’t take any time at all. As she made her way upstairs, she passed Gus’s office. The door was closed and she could hear his muted voice as he spoke on the phone.

  At the top of the stairs, she turned instinctively toward Emmaline’s childhood bedroom, where she’d enjoyed so many sleepovers with her friend. It had been years since she’d been in this part of the house. Opening the door, she could see the room bore little resemblance to her memories. Now it was a guest room, pretty and functional, but nearly unrecognizable as the girlish retreat she remembered. Closing the door, she continued down the hallway and opened the next door.

  This must be Evan’s room. Masculine clothing lay strewn over an armchair, while boots and shoes had been kicked carelessly into a corner. The bed hadn’t been made and through an adjoining door, she could see the en suite bathroom was in disarray. She spent the next half hour tidying the room and putting fresh sheets on the bed, before gathering up the soiled linens and towels and carrying them to the laundry room, where she stuffed them into the washing machine.

  At the end of the corridor, she found Gus’s bedroom. Like the man himself, the room was neat and crisp and devoid of anything fussy or superfluous. It took her less than fifteen minutes to put fresh sheets on the bed and replace the towels in his bathroom. Someone—her abuela, most likely—had set a small vase of fresh flowers on his dresser and Jessie made a mental note to replace them before they wilted.

  In the hallway, she eyeballed the closed door of the bedroom she’d not yet explored, knowing it must be where Holt slept. She chewed her lower lip, debating. Did she dare? Surely just a peek into his room wouldn’t do any harm and he’d never know. She was consumed with curiosity about what that private space might reveal about him. The house was quiet. She was alone except for Gus, and he was safely ensconced in his study. Setting the laundry basket down in the hallway, she carefully turned the doorknob, opening it just wide enough to take a quick look inside.

  The room was large, dominated by an enormous four-poster bed on the far wall with elaborately carved bedposts. The walls were covered in a deep-gray-patterned wallpaper and there was a longhorn cattle skull over the bed, although Jessie was grateful to see the skull itself was made of glossy-black wood. Two dark leather chairs flanked a small table near the windows, and the room’s only concession to softness was a sumptuous white rug on the hardwood floor. There wasn’t a bunny slipper in sight.

  Jessie frowned, no closer to understanding Holt than she’d been five minutes earlier, except to note he was exceptionally tidy.

  “What are you doing?”

  The voice, coming from the hallway behind Jessie, startled her so much that she actually jumped. Closing the bedroom door, she turned to see her best friend, Jorie, watching her with a knowing smile.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Jessie gasped, putting a hand to her chest to quell her madly thumping heart. “You scared the life out of me!”

  “Were you snooping in Holt’s bedroom?” There was no censure in Jorie’s voice, only amusement.

  Other than her grandmother, Jessie had never told anyone about her feelings for Holt, except Jorie. They had been friends since middle school and together, they’d spent many nights at Riverrun Ranch, having sleepovers with Emmaline and Callie. Jorie was a veterinary technician and had operated a wildlife rehab center out of her mobile home until a year ago, when the house had burned to the ground. But the entire town of Last Stand had come together to raise money for her to get reestablished. She was engaged to Luke and together they had were building a beautiful house on the land she owned, along with a new wildlife rehab center and a canine-training facility, which Luke owned and managed.

  “I wasn’t snooping,” Jessie said, indignant. “I never even stepped inside. I was just . . . curious. What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Looking for you. How is Rosa-Maria? I couldn’t believe it when Luke told me. Are you okay?”

  Jessie nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Emmaline and I are heading over to the hospital this afternoon to see how she’s doing, but my father has been with her since last night.”

  “Luke said you’re filling in for Rosa-Maria,” Jorie said, her gaze turning meaningfully toward the closed door. “Doesn’t that give you carte blanche authority to go in and clean Holt’s room?”

  “I think his room is off-limits,” Jessie replied, picking up the laundry basket. “Evan specifically told me that Holt prefers to take care of his own stuff.”

  “Hmm, I like that in a man,” Jorie said with approval. “Luke is the same way, but I always figured it was because of his military background. Maybe Rosa-Maria didn’t spoil them too much, after all.”

  Jessie laughed. “If I know my grandmother, she probably made sure they all learned how to operate a washing machine and a dishwasher. Except for Gus, I am definitely not going to spoil them. I’ll prepare the meals and keep the house tidy, but that’s it. I am not going to be Cinderella and wait on them hand and foot. Besides,” she added morosely, “Holt made it crystal clear he
doesn’t want me here.”

  Jorie followed her down the hallway to the laundry room. “Why? Did he say something?”

  Jessie shrugged, as she pulled the wet laundry out of the washing machine and transferred it to the dryer. “He asked why I’m staying in the house, instead of at my own place.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him it’s more convenient, but maybe he has a point. Maybe I shouldn’t stay here, but I was really hoping to put some distance between myself and my family. When I’m home, my parents think nothing of dropping in. And now that I’m not at the restaurant . . .” She gave Jorie a meaningful look. “You know how my parents are, especially my father. If it’s good enough for him, it must be good enough for me.”

  “Well, given the choice between your parents and my own, I’d choose yours every time.”

  Jessie stared at her friend, stricken. Jorie’s own mother had abandoned her when Jorie was just eight years old. She’d been raised by her grandmother in a run-down mobile home on the other side of town.

  “Jorie, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “That was thoughtless of me. Of course I love my parents, but sometimes I feel like I have no room to even breathe. I just really don’t want to work at the cantina for the rest of my life. But is that reason enough for me to move in here and make Holt uncomfortable?”

  “Are you sure that’s the reason you agreed to move in?” Jorie’s eyes held a knowing glint. “Maybe living under the same roof is how you’ll finally get Holt to notice you.”

  Jessie gave her friend an admiring smile. “Beautiful and smart! Actually, that’s the plan. My grandmother thought it would be the perfect opportunity for me and Holt to get to know each other better, so I’m giving it a month.” She sighed and let her shoulders slump. “But if this morning is any indication, I think he’s going to avoid me.”

  Jorie chuckled.

  “What?” Jessie demanded. “Why are you laughing? I don’t see anything funny in any of this.”

  “Because it’s so obvious why Holt doesn’t want you under the same roof.” Jorie grinned. “He’s attracted to you, and it scares the hell out of him.”

  Chapter Four

  Holt rode hard across the fields, driven by some unnamable inner force. The herds of cattle lifted their heads and watched as he galloped past before resuming their placid grazing. Only when he reached the boundary of the Claiborne property did he rein in his horse. The morning had already turned hot, but he barely noticed. Beneath him, Chaos breathed in gusty snorts and his neck was dark with sweat. Turning the horse south, Holt rode slowly along the fence line until he crested a small rise. Below him, nestled against a line of trees and bordered by a pretty stream, stood Emmaline and Cort’s newly built house and barn. Gus had gifted them the land when they’d announced their engagement the year before. The location was convenient, since Holt and Cort had recently gone into business together, breeding bucking bulls. Cort had inherited his grandfather’s stock of prime bull seed and, with Holt’s financial backing and experience breeding cattle, they hoped to introduce some of the best bulls in the industry.

  Holt urged his horse down the hill toward the house and dismounted in the shade of a massive live oak, securing the reins to a low branch. In the barn, he retrieved a bucket of cool water and hung it where Chaos could access it, before he made his way to the house and banged on the door. Pushing his hat back on his head, he glanced around the property. Emmaline’s car was parked near the barn, but there was no sign of Cort’s pickup truck.

  The door opened, and Emmaline smiled when she saw him. “Hey, what brings you out here? Cort headed to the ranch about ten minutes ago.”

  Holt and Cort shared an office inside the breeding barn at Riverrun, where they kept the precious canisters of stud seed and maintained the genetic records for the cattle they bred. In addition to working the herds of livestock, they spent a good portion of the day managing the breeding program and soliciting buyers. Cort would no doubt be surprised to find himself working alone this morning.

  “Actually, I’m not here to see Cort,” he said. “Is there coffee?”

  “Always.” Emmaline stepped back to allow him to enter.

  After removing his hat, Holt hung it on a hook near the entrance, and followed Emmaline into the new kitchen. The house had an artistic vibe but also showcased Cort’s more traditional, Texas style. He sat down at the kitchen island and watched as Emmaline filled a mug with steaming coffee and slid it across to him. Then she leaned back against the counter, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited. She had pinned her long, dark hair back into a messy bun and Holt could see smudges of paint on her hands. Emmaline had an artist’s studio at the rear of the house and she sold her paintings to galleries in Austin, San Antonio, and New York City, as well as locally in Last Stand.

  “Were you working? I don’t want to interrupt you.”

  Emmaline waved his concern aside. “It’s fine. I was in a good place for a break. So, what’s up?”

  “You’ve heard about Rosa-Maria?”

  Emmaline nodded. “Yes, of course. Evan called to tell me. I spoke to Jessie, and she and I are going over to the hospital after lunch.”

  Holt sipped his coffee. “When did you talk to her?”

  “Oh, about an hour ago, shortly after you stomped out of the house.”

  “I didn’t stomp out,” he retorted, frowning. “I had work to do.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her tone clearly said she wasn’t buying it.

  “Is that what she said? That I stomped out?” He’d behaved badly, there was no way around it, but at the time, he’d been too frustrated to school his reaction. He was so conflicted right now, he could barely stand his own company. The plain truth was he didn’t want Jessica living in his house, cooking and cleaning like a damned maid. Sleeping under the same roof.

  Tempting him.

  But neither did he want her to leave. He was already anticipating dinnertime when he would see her again. His guilty pleasure. His private hell.

  “No, Jessie wouldn’t say a bad word about anyone,” Emmaline said. “But she said you made it clear you’d rather not have her there. For what it’s worth, I think the situation has merit. Jessie loves her grandmother and she doesn’t want her to worry about you guys, so she promised to move in and look after you.”

  “Christ, we’re not helpless. We can look after ourselves.” Holt narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Did she actually say anything else?”

  Emmaline pretended to consider. “I think she said something to the effect that you’re entitled to wear bunny slippers if you want to.” She cocked her head. “Does that make any sense to you? Because she wouldn’t explain it, just started to laugh.”

  Holt felt his own mouth curve upward. “Yeah, okay. I’m not going to explain that one, either. Otherwise, did she seem okay? I’ll admit it; I was an ass this morning.”

  “I think you hurt her feelings, Holt.” She studied him for a moment. “Try to be nice to her.”

  “I am nice to her,” Holt objected, throwing his arms wide and trying to look innocent.

  “Then what’s the issue? Why are you so opposed to Jess working at the house? She’s a wonderful chef and, more importantly, she’s a good person.”

  Holt dragged a hand over his face. No way could he tell his sister he had the hots for her friend. Emmaline would tell him to go for it because she didn’t understand that for him, Jessica was off-limits. Forbidden.

  “Why don’t you like her?”

  He snapped his head up. “Does she think I don’t like her?”

  Emmaline’s mouth quirked. “Well, you can’t blame her. With you, it’s sometimes hard to tell.”

  “It has nothing to do with whether or not I like her,” he protested. “But having her in the house isn’t the same as having Rosa-Maria around.”

  “Hmm, that’s true.”

  “Rosa-Maria has been like a mother to us, while Jessica is—” He broke off, realizing he teetered on the verge o
f revealing too much.

  “Gorgeous and smart and—” Emmaline leaned across the island and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Single.”

  Holt scowled at his sister. “She’s also extremely young.”

  Emmaline gave him a narrowed look. “Just how old do you think she is, Holt?”

  He shrugged. “She has to be at least ten years younger than I am.”

  “She’s twenty-six, almost twenty-seven.”

  “Okay, nine years younger than me. To put it in perspective, I was already married and running the ranch when she was still only thirteen.”

  “Well, she’s old enough now to be married and have her own family. In fact, she’s older than Callie, who is married and has a baby, and Jessie is only a year younger than me.” She tipped her head and considered him for a moment. “But somehow, I don’t think this has anything to do with her age. I think you’re just not used to being around pretty, eligible women. When’s the last time you went on a date, anyway?”

  “Okay, that’s my cue to leave,” Holt said, unwilling to discuss his love life—or lack of one—with his younger sister. He stood up and took a last swig of his coffee. “Thanks, Em.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Sure, anytime. Good talk, Holt.”

  He snatched his hat from the hook and then paused by the door. “When you see Jessica, tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend her.”

  “Oh, no,” Emmaline said, raising her hands as if to ward off the very suggestion. “I am not getting in the middle of this. Besides, an apology would mean more if it came from you, don’t you think?”

  Holt gave a grunt of assent, but as he untied Chaos from the tree and swung himself into the saddle, he felt even more unsettled than he had before he’d arrived at Emmaline’s house. Of course, he realized that Jessica was an adult. A man would have to be blind not to see what a beautiful woman she’d become. And that was the problem.

  He wasn’t blind.

  Not even close.

  Returning to the ranch, he unsaddled his horse and then gave him some more water. After brushing him down, he released the animal into a nearby paddock. His dog, Sam, a yellow Labrador mix, rose to his feet from where he’d been asleep under a shade tree, and came forward to greet him, tail wagging.