How to Catch a Cowboy (Riverrun Ranch Book 3)

by Karen Foley

  “Hey, boy.” Holt crouched down to rub the dog’s face and neck. “Having a rough day?” Sam shook himself, sending dust and fur into the air, and Holt stood. “I know the feeling.”

  Inside the breeding barn, he found Cort already in the office, working on his laptop. Their partnership was working out better than Holt had hoped. Cort was smart and he knew bulls. In addition to the canisters of prime stud seed he’d brought with him to their fledgling business, Cort had also used his connections within the bucking-bull industry to purchase seed straws from studs that showed huge potential. To date, they’d used the seed to artificially inseminate nearly fifty cows, but the calving wouldn’t occur for another six months. Since all their breeding cows were on the same estrus cycle, they wouldn’t breed any additional cows until the following spring. They were in a waiting mode until calving season.

  “Morning, Cort. Let’s check the weight on the pregnant cows this morning,” Holt said, opening his own computer.

  “On it,” Cort said. “I also want to increase their nutrition, add a pound of cottonseed meal to their feed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The cows were kept separate from the main herd, spending part of their time in the barn where their condition could be closely monitored, and released into a separate pasture each day for grazing. Holt was pleased with their progress and had high hopes for the calves they would deliver the following spring.

  He checked his email and responded to queries. When he was through, he and Cort weighed and measured the pregnant cows, entered the data into the computers, then checked the statistics to ensure the animals were gaining appropriate weight. They made phone calls and ordered in supplies, and the morning passed quickly.

  “Well, I think I’ll head home and have lunch with Emmaline,” Cort said, pushing his hat onto his head. “After that, I’m going into town to pick up supplies. Do you need anything?”

  Holt looked up from the article he’d been reading. Normally, he would walk up to the main house and Rosa-Maria would have lunch prepared on the terrace. But today he found himself reluctant to return to the house. As much as he wanted to see Jessie, he wasn’t ready to face her. He hated that he might have hurt her feelings. He’d never been good at expressing his own emotions, but he needed to apologize for his earlier behavior.

  “No, thanks. I’ll see you later,” he said, and watched as Cort picked up his keys and left the office.

  Holt returned his attention to the magazine, but raised his head when he heard Cort speaking with someone. Recognizing the second voice as Jessica’s, he shot to his feet and looked desperately around the office as if he might discover somewhere to hide. And then it was too late. Jessie appeared in the doorway of the office, a tentative smile on her face. She looked fabulous in a pair of snug jeans and boots, paired with a rose-colored T-shirt that complemented her complexion. Sam had followed her and now he rubbed his head against Jessie’s hip, his tongue lolling out as he gazed adoringly up at her.

  “Hey,” she said, and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. The movement caused her breasts to thrust forward and Holt quickly averted his gaze, pretending an interest in the article that had become nothing but an illegible blur. “I brought you some lunch.”

  Holt did look at her then. “You didn’t have to do that. We usually come up to the house to eat.”

  “Well, your father is at the hospital and Evan came by earlier and grabbed a sandwich, saying he was heading out to the east pasture to check on the herds. Luke is over at Jorie’s property, helping the contractor with the house, so it’s just you.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I know how busy you are, so I figured I would save you a trip and bring your lunch down to the barn.”

  He remembered Emmaline’s words. Be nice to her.

  “Thanks. But I wish you hadn’t.”

  He watched as she schooled her features into a sweetly pleasant expression, the way he’d seen her do with difficult customers at the cantina. It was just one of the things he admired about her, how she could keep her cool when he knew full well she was annoyed as hell. And right now, she was annoyed with him.

  “Well, I did. I’ll leave the tray here and if you don’t want to eat, that’s up to you. Bring it up to the house with you when you come.”

  She swung away and Holt closed his eyes briefly, mentally berating himself. “Wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  Jessie paused and turned back around. “Really? How did you mean it?”

  Holt spread his hands. “Only that you shouldn’t have gone to any extra trouble. You work hard enough as it is and I don’t want to make any more for you.”

  “Oh. In that case, thank you. Apology accepted.” Then she smiled at him.

  Holt wanted to tell her that he hadn’t apologized, but her smile was doing funny things to him and he found he couldn’t formulate his thoughts, never mind words.

  “Come see what I have for you,” she continued, and then she actually held out her hand to him, as if she really expected him to take it.

  Not a chance.

  His brain might have shut down for a nanosecond under the wattage of her smile, but there was no way in hell he’d touch her. Instead, he jammed his hands into his front pockets and nodded with his chin in the direction of the door. “I’ll follow you.”

  “I hope you like it,” she said over her shoulder. “My abuela said it’s one of your favorites.”

  Holt couldn’t guess what she might have prepared for him, as everything Rosa-Maria cooked became his favorite meal. He followed Jessie out of the barn, his gaze fixated on the seductive swing of her hips as she walked. She was taller than average, and curvy in all the right places, with a waist that seemed impossibly slender. Her long, glossy, dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders and, as they stepped out of the barn, the sunlight picked out the caramel highlights that ribboned through the thick waves.

  “Here you are,” she said, and led him to an outdoor table beside the barn, shaded by several trees. She had draped a checked tablecloth over the wooden planks and a large thermos sat next to a tray covered with a white dishcloth. Lifting the cloth, Holt saw she had made him two thick BLT sandwiches on rustic bread, with hand-cut potato chips, spears of pickles, and a small dish of peach cobbler. She was right; this was one of his favorite midday meals. His mouth watered at the sight and he realized how hungry he actually was. Sam had followed them outside and now he lifted his nose in the air, sniffing appreciatively until Holt commanded him to sit. The dog did, but his hopeful gaze never left Holt and drool began to drip from his jowls.

  “This looks good,” Holt said gruffly. “Thanks.”

  He sat down, unscrewed the top on the thermos, and poured a liberal amount of iced tea into the single glass she’d included. Glancing at her, he realized she hadn’t moved. Was she really going to stand there and watch him eat? Discomfited, he set the thermos down and indicated the empty chair on the opposite side of the small table. “Did you want to join me?”

  She wouldn’t accept; he’d only offered in order to be nice. He figured after the morning’s debacle in the kitchen, he could afford to extend an olive branch, safe in the knowledge she would refuse and hightail it back to the house. And he wouldn’t blame her.

  “Well,” she said slowly, clasping her hands under her chin and smiling at him in a way that was both alarming and endearing, “if you’re sure you don’t mind, then thank you—I would love to.”

  Holt stared at her, momentarily taken aback. He’d been so certain she’d refuse that for a moment he didn’t respond. Then, realizing he was gaping at her, he recalled his manners and transferred one of the sandwiches to a napkin and handed her the plate with the remaining sandwich.

  She took the seat opposite him, picked up the glass of iced tea he had poured, and took a sip. “Mmm, delicious. There’s nothing better than sweet tea on a hot day, don’t you agree?”

  Holt tried not stare as she licked her lips, the pink tip
of her tongue the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. She pushed the glass toward him and picked up one of the sandwiches, holding it with both hands and biting into it with relish. Holt stared, transfixed. She had a luscious mouth, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t had one or two fantasies about what she could do with those lips. How could someone make the simple act of eating a sandwich look sexy?

  Delicately wiping her mouth with her finger, she raised one eyebrow. “Are you okay? You’re not eating.”

  “No, I’m fine,” he assured her, and quickly turned his attention to his meal. “I just got sidetracked thinking about . . . work.”

  “Your work,” she repeated, and picked up a dill spear. “You mean inseminating the females?”

  With his sandwich halfway to his mouth, Holt stopped and stared at her. She was slowly sucking on the end of the pickle and he didn’t know if it was by chance or design, but the way her lips were wrapped around the damned thing made him go hard beneath the table.

  “What?” She bit through the pickle and placed the uneaten portion on her plate. “Artificial insemination. That’s what you do, right?”

  He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus. Was she deliberately trying to arouse him? “Well, yes, but that’s just part of it. The actual insemination takes less than a minute, so while it’s obviously an important part of the breeding process, it’s not the whole story.”

  “Why can’t they be bred the natural way, as God intended?”

  “Because we’re targeting specific traits and behaviors,” Holt said. “Some of the bull seed we use comes from bulls who are no longer alive, but whose genetic makeup is desirable in producing a high-performing bucking bull.”

  Jessie nodded. “I understand, but it still seems so . . . impersonal. I mean, less than a minute?” She looked at him from under her lashes and Holt could have sworn he saw a dimple in her cheek. “Those poor girls are getting the short end of the stick, if you ask me.”

  Holt’s mouth quirked and he bent his head to hide his own grin. He wouldn’t tell her that the insemination “stick” was actually a foot long, or that unlike the cows, the bulls at least had a guaranteed happy ending. No way would he give her any additional details about the insemination process. The truth was, it was a tricky job that required both training and technical skill. So instead of replying, he picked up his sandwich and took a hearty bite, and then raised his head to stare at Jessie in amazement.

  “What did you do to this sandwich?”

  Resting her chin on her hand, Jessie gave him a triumphant smile. “Do you like it?”

  “Let’s just say Rosa-Maria never made a BLT like this one.” In case she was in any doubt as to just how much he was enjoying the sandwich, he took another bite, unable to prevent the sounds of appreciation that escaped him. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten, besides your carne asada. What did you put in this?”

  Jessie watched him with undisguised pleasure. “Thank you, but it’s just a BLT with a twist. I used fried green tomatoes, applewood bacon, and a secret remoulade sauce.”

  “And you made the chips from scratch,” he said, eyeing the pile of curly, golden chips.

  “I did. They have a dusting of spice on them. I hope you like them.”

  Holt tried one, tasting the faint hint of cayenne pepper. “They’re delicious.”

  Holt couldn’t recall the last time he’d been with a woman—a young, beautiful woman—who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. He tended to avoid the opposite sex, unless they were family. Even now, suspicion lurked at the back of his mind like an insidious afterthought. Why would Jessica Montero want to spend any time with him? He’d been bad mannered and had made it clear he didn’t want her around. Beyond that, he was nearly ten years older than her. Why wasn’t she with one of the good-looking, brash young cowboys in town? He’d bet she had no shortage of guys knocking on her door. He steered his thoughts to safer territory, because he didn’t like thinking of Jessie like that. He didn’t like thinking of her with any other man, even if he couldn’t imagine her with himself.

  “So, the remoulade is a secret, hmm?”

  “A family recipe, passed down from generation to generation,” she confirmed, but the gleam in her dark eyes told him she was only partly serious. “No one outside the Montero family will ever be privy to the ingredients that go into that sauce. Not even if they beg.”

  “I never beg.” Holt took another bite. The flavor was robust and savory, with enough bacony goodness to satisfy even him.

  “That’s too bad,” she murmured. “For you, I might make an exception.”

  Her words, combined with the invitation in her eyes, nearly caused Holt to choke on his sandwich and he swallowed quickly.

  “Well, I should get back.” She took the last bit of her sandwich and held it out to the dog, who wolfed it down. Then she pushed the plate with the remaining half toward him. “Why don’t you finish this? I’ve had plenty.”

  She stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her top and drawing Holt’s unwilling attention to her slender waist above the gentle flare of her hips. He didn’t want her to go, but could come up with no good reason for her to remain. He rose to his feet.

  “Thank you. I’ll bring the tray up to the house later.”

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Holt wondered if she had any idea how appealing she was, or if she had the slightest inkling of his true feelings toward her. She’d been nothing but accommodating and kind to both him and his family, and he’d acted like a surly jackass. As she turned away, he called her name.

  “Jessica.”

  She spun back around, her expression both surprised and expectant. “Yes?”

  “About this morning—”

  She held up a hand. “Please, don’t apologize. I understand.”

  Holt almost laughed, because there no way she could possibly understand. Worse, he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t act like an idiot again. Having her under the same roof made him feel restless and edgy. But for her sake, he’d make an effort to be nice.

  Holt watched as she turned and made her way back toward the house, admiring the perfect curve of her rear beneath the well-worn denim. When she had gone, he looked at the half sandwich she had left untouched, and picked it up. Biting into it, he was struck again by the unique flavors. She’d said the secret was a family recipe and no one outside the Montero family would ever know the ingredients. Holt gave a huff of laughter, thinking it might just be worth breaking his rules and marrying her just to get the recipe.

  Chapter Five

  Jessie parked her Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot of the hospital and gathered up the flowers and magazines she had brought for her grandmother. At the reception desk, she spoke briefly with the nurse on duty.

  “How is she today?”

  “Her spirits are good, but the doc wants to keep her for a few more days, just to get her sugar levels down,” the nurse replied. “But she’s had lots of company, so I’m sure that helps.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “Oh, I’d say so.” The nurse smiled knowingly.

  “Thanks.” Jessie turned away, puzzled. What had that smile meant?

  She walked down the corridor to her grandmother’s room, but came to an abrupt stop in the doorway before she stepped quickly back, out of sight. She stood for a moment in the hall outside the room with her back pressed up against the wall, astounded by what she had just witnessed.

  Her grandmother was sitting up in bed wearing a pretty, flowered robe and Gus Claiborne was sitting in a chair pulled up close to her side. But that hadn’t been what surprised her. Gus had been holding one of her grandmother’s hands in both of his, gazing at her with undisguised longing and love. And her grandmother had been stroking his face with her free hand. As if they were lovers, and not employer and employee! The exchange had been so tender and intimate that there was no way Jessie could interrupt. As it wa
s, she felt like a voyeur.

  Turning silently away, she walked quickly back toward the main lobby, her mind reeling. Did anyone else know about the relationship? And how long had the two of them been romantically involved? Her grandmother was only sixty-three, just a few years younger than Gus. She’d been a widow for nearly thirty years, so there was no reason why she shouldn’t have a man in her life, but Jessie had never expected that man to be Gus Claiborne.

  “Hey, Jessie!”

  She looked up to see Emmaline Claiborne walking toward her. Like herself, she carried a bouquet of flowers. She looked pretty in a summer dress paired with cowboy boots, with her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

  “Emmaline!” They embraced awkwardly, laughing as they tried not crush their flowers. “Well, I don’t think my abuela has any shortage of visitors today!”

  Emmaline eyed Jessie’s flowers and magazines. “Is she sleeping?”

  Jessie took Emmaline’s arm and steered her back toward the lobby. “No, she is definitely not sleeping, but I don’t think you should visit her right now. She has company.”

  Emmaline frowned. “Okay, but I was really hoping to see her.”

  Jessie laughed. “Trust me when I say you do not want to see what’s going on in her room.”

  Emmaline stared at her. “Now I have to go see.”

  But Jessie hung on to her arm. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee, and then we’ll come back. Do you have time?”

  “Here in the cafeteria, or downtown?”

  “Let’s go downtown,” Jessie suggested. “We can go to Java Time and get a caramel mocha latte and you can tell me what you’ve been up to since we talked this morning.” Seeing Emmaline’s indecision, she added, “I promise we’ll back within an hour.”

  “Okay,” Emmaline said, and allowed herself to be steered away from Rosa-Maria’s room.