How to Catch a Cowboy (Riverrun Ranch Book 3)

by Karen Foley

  “Good morning, Holt.” She placed Gus’s plate on a tray and poured a glass of orange juice. Retrieving two single flowers from the vase in the center of the table, she found a bud vase in the cupboard over the coffee machine and dropped the stems inside. As she filled the vase with water and placed it on the tray, adding a napkin and silverware, she was acutely aware of Holt watching her.

  “Morning, Jessica. Sleep well?”

  “Like a baby,” she fibbed. She glanced at him as he walked past her, noting the beard growth on his jaw and the lines of fatigue around his mouth. Unless she was mistaken, Holt hadn’t gotten any more sleep than she had last night.

  “This looks fantastic, Jess.” Evan served himself a quesadilla and loaded it with pico de gallo and sour cream. “Any chance I can sweet-talk you into grabbing me a cup of coffee?”

  “Of course,” Jessie replied.

  But as she turned toward the coffee machine, Holt forestalled her with a hand on her arm. “Get it yourself, Evan.” His voice was mild, but there was an underlying edge to it. “She’s not a servant.”

  “Really, Holt, I’m right here and I don’t mind,” Jessie protested, pulling free and casting an apologetic glance at Evan.

  “No, he’s right. I can get my own coffee.” Evan stood and crossed the kitchen to the coffee machine. He frowned at Holt as he passed. “What’s eating you this morning, anyway? You’ve been as ornery as a pregnant mare with a horsefly on her ass.”

  Luke entered the kitchen in time to hear the exchange. Now he cast an amused glance at Holt. “He’s operating on no sleep, is my guess.”

  “What makes you say that?” Holt grumbled, as he stepped away from Jessie and sat down at the table.

  “As it happens, I also suffer from occasional insomnia. I saw the lights on in the barn around three a.m. and figured it was you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Holt dished some fried potatoes onto his plate. “But you didn’t think to join me?”

  Luke laughed softly. “No way. I know what you’re like when you can’t sleep. Besides, I had other . . . distractions.”

  Jessie turned away to hide her smile, guessing that Luke’s “distraction” had been Jorie, finding him awake at three a.m. and pulling him back to bed to cuddle until dawn. But the realization that Holt had not slept, but had instead sought refuge in the barn, was fascinating news to her. Casting a furtive glance at him, she found him watching her across the kitchen with an expression that turned his blue eyes molten. For a moment, Jessie couldn’t breathe. Then he turned his attention to his plate, releasing her from where she’d stood, frozen.

  She lifted the breakfast tray but before she could take two steps, Holt was there, taking it from her hands.

  “Let me get this for you.”

  “I can manage,” Jessie protested.

  “I’m sure you can, but for this morning at least, you don’t need to.”

  Acutely aware that Evan and Luke watched them with sudden interest, she made a helpless gesture. “I cut my foot last night and it’s a little uncomfortable to walk on.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d been wrong to say anything. Luke and Evan exchanged a meaningful look and bent over their plates, but Jessie saw their knowing smirks. Holt had already vanished down the hallway and into his father’s study, so Jessie turned back to his brothers.

  “It’s not what you think,” she said in exasperation.

  Evan shrugged, but his blue eyes danced with humor. “Hey, what you and Holt do at night is none of my business.”

  “So you’re the reason he didn’t get any sleep,” Luke mused, and a deep dimple appeared in one cheek.

  “Oh, you two are hopeless,” Jessie grumbled.

  She left the house and stood on the wide verandah, her thoughts churning. Seeing the porch swing at the far end of the covered porch, she sank onto it, pushing it into gentle motion with her uninjured foot. Sunlight slanted across the swing, warming her. Maybe coming to Riverrun Ranch hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. Being in such close proximity to Holt was both heaven and hell, especially when he ran hot and cold where she was concerned.

  “Hey, Jessie, I thought that was you.”

  Startled, Jessie looked up and saw Jorie standing on the lawn just below the verandah, shading her eyes with one hand. “Hi, Jorie! What’re you doing?”

  Jorie indicated her small SUV parked along the side of the long, gravel drive. “I was heading into town. Are you okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Jorie climbed the stairs to the covered porch and sat down on the swing next to Jessie. “How’s the new job going?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I mean, cooking for four hungry men is the easy part.”

  “Well, cooking has always been easy for you. What’s the hard part, as if I don’t know?”

  Jessie groaned and gave her friend a helpless look. “Holt is sending such mixed signals. I’m so confused. I don’t know whether he wants to toss me out, or throw me across the kitchen table and have his wicked way with me.”

  Jorie’s hands flew to her mouth, before she grinned widely. “Are you serious? What happened? Tell me everything.”

  Jessie gave her a brief account, beginning with Holt’s rudeness at the breakfast table the previous morning, and finishing with how she had kissed him good-night. By the time she finished, Jorie’s eyes were wide and round, her mouth open in astonishment.

  “And all that time, he wore nothing but a pair of Wranglers?”

  “Yes! And when he first entered the kitchen, they weren’t even buttoned.” A gurgle of laughter escaped Jessie. “I thought I was dreaming.”

  “So romantic . . .” Jorie sighed dreamily. “Don’t get me wrong; I adore Luke and I think he’s the sexiest man on the planet, but I would have loved to have seen that!”

  “After he took care of my foot, he mopped the floor,” Jessie added. Her gaze slid solemnly to Jorie’s and her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Wearing nothing but a pair of Wranglers! Honestly, it was like watching porn.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, before they both burst into peals of laughter.

  “I can’t believe you let him go upstairs alone,” Jorie said when she could speak again. “You had him right there, half-naked!”

  “Oh, no,” Jessie said, putting up one hand. “There was no way I am sleeping with him, at least not while I’m working there. Technically, he’s a client.”

  “Gus hired you, so technically, you work for him, not Holt.” Jorie leaned closer. “Were you tempted?”

  Jessie recalled how Holt had looked in the semidarkness of the hallway, all sculpted muscle and glittering blue eyes, and felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Of course. But I’m also a coward. I don’t know what I’d do if he rejected me.”

  “If he’s being distant, it’s probably because he’s afraid. Luke said he avoids women like the plague.”

  Jessie didn’t tell her friend that there had been nothing distant about Holt last night. In fact, she’d seen an entirely different side of him. “I don’t think Holt is afraid of much. He’s just being careful.”

  Jorie made a sympathetic sound. “How’s your foot now? Maybe you’d like to come into town with me?”

  “Thanks, my foot is absolutely fine,” Jessie assured her. “But I have too much to do today to go anywhere. Sorry.”

  “What do you have going on?”

  Jessie sighed. “Apparently today is laundry and ironing day.” She gave her friend a weak smile. “This may be the end of my short tenure as housekeeper, because I can barely sort my own laundry, and I avoid ironing at all costs. The first time Mr. Claiborne finds pink boxers in his dresser or a wrinkled shirt in his closet, I’ll be history.”

  “Why would you do their laundry?” Jorie looked perplexed. “They’re grown men.”

  “My grandmother did this for them, so I think they expect me to do the same.”

  “Just because Rosa-Maria did it doesn’t mean you have to,” Jorie said, her
tone emphatic. “In fact, I would take all the laundry, bundle it into separate pillowcases and take it into town to the cleaners. Then all you need to do is put it in their rooms, all nice and clean and folded.”

  Jessie stared at her friend. “You would?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I don’t know why that never occurred to me,” Jessie said. “Do you suppose I could get away with bringing someone in to clean the bathrooms and mop the floors?”

  Jorie leaned forward. “You’re a chef, not a housekeeper. If Gus had any sense, he would never have asked you to do all of those other things.”

  “He didn’t,” Jessie confessed. “This was my grandmother’s idea, partly to help with the cooking and cleaning, but mostly to get closer to Holt.”

  “So let someone else do the heavy lifting. All you should do is the cooking. If you need the name of a good house cleaner, let me know.” She stood up. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’m meeting Emmaline at the new house and I don’t want to be late. She’s doing the interior decoration and the movers are bringing some of the bigger pieces of furniture over today. Luke and I are planning to move in by next week, so the cabin will be empty if Rosa-Maria does decide to take it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll let her know.”

  Jessie watched as her friend climbed into her car and drove down the long, gravel driveway. There was no reason why she shouldn’t do exactly as Jorie suggested and have someone else do the laundry and the cleaning.

  The sound of masculine voices drew her attention, and she turned to see Holt, Luke, and Evan leave the house and cross the lawn toward the barns. Holt was the tallest, but they each had the same easy, loose-limbed stride that marked them as brothers more than their looks ever could. She’d known the Claiborne family her entire life, but realized she didn’t know the Claiborne brothers, not really. Holt had been so much older than herself that, by the time Jessie had begun to notice him, he was already a grown man. Luke had joined the army as soon as he’d turned eighteen and had only recently returned to Last Stand. Evan, the brother she knew best, was a charming ladies’ man who seemed to breeze through life without ever taking anything seriously, most notably his numerous, short-lived relationships. She suspected there was much more to Evan than he let the world see, but it would take a special woman to break down the barriers he’d constructed around his heart.

  She guessed the same might be said for Holt, too, considering every woman he’d cared about had abandoned him in one way or another. Did she have what it took to break through his walls?

  She had just under four weeks to try.

  Chapter Eight

  “I am not returning to Riverrun Ranch. I am officially retired,” Rosa-Maria said firmly, holding a vase of flowers on her lap. “I’ll stay with your parents until I am better and then I will find an apartment somewhere in town.”

  “But Gus said he wants you to have the cabin,” Jessie said, holding her grandmother’s hand as she and her parents wheeled Rosa-Maria out of the hospital and toward the waiting car. “Luke and Jorie have moved into their new home on Hickory Creek Road, and the cabin is empty.” Seeing her grandmother’s stubborn expression, she squeezed the older woman’s fingers. “Well, just think about it, hmm? You’ve lived there for twenty-five years. I’m sure they all miss seeing you.”

  Nearly a week had passed since the midnight kiss in the hallway. Her grandmother had finally been deemed well enough to return home, but she had been adamant about not returning to Riverrun Ranch in any capacity, not even as a retiree. If Jessie hadn’t witnessed that tender moment between Rosa-Maria and Gus in the hospital, she would have believed the two had had a falling out.

  “How are you getting along at the ranch?” Rosa-Maria smiled at her. “Are the boys treating you well?”

  Jessie slid a glance at her father, who stared straight ahead as he pushed the wheelchair. “I’m doing fine and everything is going well,” she assured her grandmother, putting an emphasis on everything. “I’ve settled into a routine of sorts and I think everyone is happy.”

  Jose made a grunting sound and Jessie’s mother, Gina, hushed him. “The Claibornes are very lucky to have you,” she said to Jessie. “It was a very generous thing you did, stepping in when your abuela couldn’t be there.”

  “You’d do better returning to the restaurant,” Jose grumbled. “When I agreed to let you go, I thought it would only be until Gus hired someone to replace Mama. You already have a permanent job.”

  “Papa, we’ve talked about this,” Jessie said, feeling weary. “You know how much I want to start my own business.”

  “If you stay at the cantina, it will be your business one day.”

  “How can I take over if you won’t even let me in the kitchen? I can cook, Papa, you realize that, right?”

  “You’re better with the customers and the waitstaff than I am,” her father said. “I like having you as the manager.”

  “You mean you like keeping everything exactly the way it is right now. You don’t want to try anything new,” Jessie corrected him.

  “Let the girl pursue her own dream,” Rosa-Maria said, interrupting them. “You’re still a young man, Jose, and you have many years left to run the restaurant. Jessica doesn’t want to wait another twenty years to realize her dream.”

  “I thought our dreams were the same—for her to take over the cantina!”

  “Jose, you’ll upset your mother.” Gina gave her husband a warning look. “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “Abuela, do you want me to come back to the house with you?” Jessie sought to change the subject. “We could watch a movie together, or maybe play cards.”

  “Thank you, Jessica, you’re such a good girl,” Rosa-Maria said. “I think I will rest. Come see me in a few days.”

  They had arrived at her father’s car and Jessie bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Please consider the cabin, okay? I think Gus misses you.”

  To her surprise, Rosa-Maria made a harrumphing sound. “He knows where to find me.”

  Jessie straightened and watched as her grandmother climbed into the car, and her parents loaded her flowers, balloons, and assorted belongings into the back of the SUV. Jessie was more certain than ever that something personal had happened between her grandmother and Gus. As far as she knew, Gus had not returned to the hospital after that first day, and aside from politely asking after Rosa-Maria each morning, he hadn’t mentioned her. That, more than anything else, told Jessie something was wrong between the older couple.

  After the SUV had left, Jessie brought the wheelchair back to the hospital lobby and returned to her own car. She drove into town where she dropped off three bags of laundry and retrieved three neatly washed, ironed, and folded bundles of freshly laundered items from the local dry cleaning and laundry service. Two bundles belonged to Gus and Evan and the third bundle contained sheets, towels, and other odds and ends. The cost was more than she had expected, but Gus paid her well. She placed the bundles into the laundry basket she’d brought with her and nearly collided with someone as she backed out of the door and onto the sidewalk.

  “Oh, pardon me!” she exclaimed and then gasped as she looked up at the man holding the door. “Holt?”

  “Jessica.” His face registered pleasure and surprise, and something else that looked suspiciously like hunger, before he swiftly schooled his expression.

  She’d seen very little of Holt in the past week and only from a distance. He’d been avoiding her, waiting until she’d left the kitchen before he made an appearance at any meal. By the time she returned to clear the dishes, he’d usually disappeared. Even Evan had commented on it, since Holt apparently also had a thing for sweets, but he’d skipped dessert every night since the incident with the ice cream. She knew it had to do with the kiss. He probably regretted it. But Jessie had been unable to forget it. The only thing she regretted was not letting the kiss lead to something more.

  Now, seeing him look at her laundry basket,
she raised her chin. She’d done nothing wrong, but she felt as if she’d just been caught in a fib. Then her eyes fell on the laundry bag Holt carried in one hand.

  “I see I’m not the only one doing laundry today.” She couldn’t help but tease him, just a bit. “Your bunny slippers need cleaning?”

  “Ha. No bunny slippers, just the usual guy stuff.”

  Glancing around as if afraid of being overheard, Jessie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know this falls into the category of weird bachelor habits, right? You have a washing machine at home. What kind of man brings his underwear to the cleaners?”

  Leaning forward, Holt put his mouth near her ear and whispered, “The kind that doesn’t like when they turn pink in the wash.”

  Jessie smothered a surprised laugh. “Yes, I can’t see that being a good look on you.”

  “This is easier, not to mention safer.” He was smiling now and Jessie felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine. “And I never lose any socks.”

  “Well, there’s no sense in both of us bringing laundry into town. Next time just leave it with me and I’ll bring it in.”

  “Or you could give me the basket each week and I’ll take care of it,” he countered. “There’s no need for you to do the laundry, anyway.”

  “I don’t mind. Although I admit I’m better at cooking than I am at housekeeping.”

  “You’re exceptional at cooking.” He patted his flat stomach. “If I don’t watch it, I’m going to need to let my belt out another notch.”

  Jessie swallowed hard, remembering the firm, toned muscle that lay hidden beneath his clothing. She dragged her gaze upward. She spoke impulsively, the words escaping her mouth in a breathless rush before she could stop them. “You look good to me.”

  Suddenly, the air between them seemed overheated, charged with something electric and bright. Jessie couldn’t see Holt’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but she could feel his gaze on her like a palpable touch.