Jen poured two glasses of juice, handed one to Matt. “I think you’re worried. I think you’ve communicated that to your dad, and he understands it.”
“But it’s not going to change anything.”
Jen tilted her head. “It doesn’t look like it.” Sighing, she sipped her drink.
Disappointment washed over Matt. “So you think I should just stand by and let my dad do what he’s going to do? And not even try to talk sense into him?” he asked skeptically.
“Truthfully?” Turning, Jen removed the bacon and broke four eggs into the pan. “I don’t think there is anything else you can do.”
* * *
“I THOUGHT I’D FIND you here.”
Jen looked up from her worktable to see Matt’s father walking in. Emmett seemed to have recovered from the scene that morning, whereas she was still struggling with her dual loyalties.
More than anything, she wanted to be able to confide in Matt. Not telling him everything she knew had wedged a distance between the two of them that she didn’t want.
Yet what choice did she have? Emmett was her client and she his trusted confidante. Matt was her lover and her friend.
Both needed and wanted to keep her in those particular roles.
And much as she hated the difficult spot she found herself in, Jen did not want to lose the closeness she had found with either man. Emmett filled a paternal role that had been empty a long time. Matt meant something to her, too. Maybe, under the circumstances, too much.
Not that it mattered. She would stay neutral. Retain good, amenable and hopefully fulfilling relationships with both.
She smiled at Emmett. “It’s definitely my favorite place on the ranch. The light here is spectacular.”
“You’re already sculpting.”
Jen showed him the wire armatures for the two horses, the riders depicting Emmett and Margarite, as well as the base the sculpture would eventually be mounted on. She explained how each would take shape. “Once the armatures, or frames, are set, I frost the forms with wet clay, to further define the basic shapes. When that’s completed I use sculpting tools and gradually add the detail of the faces and bodies and so on.” She demonstrated as she worked.
Emmett shook his head in admiration. “It’s going more quickly than I had imagined.”
Jen sighed, a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the task she had signed on for. She wasn’t used to promising so much of her future to any one client or exhibit. But there was no doubt it would be good for her career. “There’s still so much to do. Molds to be made and taken to the foundry.”
Emmett eased into a chair. Today, Jen noted, was a good day. Although still moving a little stiffly at times, he didn’t seem to be trembling.
“The point is, I like what I’ve seen so far,” Emmett continued. “And I like having Margarite’s paintings all over the house, too.” He glanced at Jen fondly. “I don’t know how you talked my son into that.”
“Actually, it was Matt’s idea.” Jen continued carefully adding clay to the armatures. “I just helped.”
“Well, it’s nice, seeing them all out again.” Emmett winced, rubbing his knee, which had started to tremble ever so slightly.
Jen swore silently. He’s in pain.
Pretending he wasn’t, he said, “Speaking of my son, do you happen to know where he is?” Emmett rose and moved about the sunlit studio.
Jen nodded. Matt had taken off right after she had cooked him breakfast. Matter-of-factly, she reported, “He borrowed a few cowboys from Jeb McCabe—since the Triple B hired hands are all up near the Oklahoma border, rounding up that new herd y’all just bought.”
“That’s right,” Emmett murmured.
“Matt, Jeb and the others are out in the pasture near the limestone pit, making changes to the fence, so the trucks and heavy equipment can get through.”
Emmett walked over to the window, whatever discomfort he felt hidden now. He turned so his leg was away from Jen. “I’m guessing Matt is still upset.”
I have to stop constantly monitoring Emmett’s health. It’s no different than measuring the whiskey, and it’s going to drive me crazy.
Jen shrugged. “You should ask him.”
Emmett walked around the studio, examining the enlarged photographs of him and his late wife that Jen had on display.
“Our arguing used to make Margarite unhappy, too,” Emmett murmured thoughtfully, pausing to look at a picture of a ten-year-old Matt and his still-healthy mother.
The photos all packed a powerful emotional punch. Jen was not immune to the poignancy. “Then maybe you shouldn’t do it,” she said thickly, thinking how much loss the Briscoes had suffered, and all they still had. If only they weren’t too stubborn to recognize it!
Emmett went to look at one of his wife’s paintings. “Fathers and sons were born to disagree.”
Talk about a lame excuse! “I wouldn’t know about that.”
Unable to keep herself from butting in, just a little, Jen added pointedly, “What I do know is that Matt is really upset about everything that’s going on right now.”
Emmett lifted a brow. “And you think I should do something about it?”
Her own back aching from the tension, Jen stood. “It doesn’t matter what I think.” She walked over to Emmett and looked him in the eye. “It matters what the two of you think.”
His craggy face gentled. “You care about Matt, don’t you?”
She struggled to answer honestly while still maintaining her privacy. “We’re becoming pretty close friends,” she said finally, knowing that wasn’t the half of it.
Emmett nodded in approval. “He needs a woman like you in his life.”
Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t, but unless Matt realized that… Jen swallowed. “He needs peace of mind. He won’t get that if you try to matchmake.”
Emmett flushed. Guilty as charged. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
It was her turn to lift a brow.
“I’m just observing,” he protested. “I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look at him. Whether you want to admit it or not, there are sparks.”
* * *
JEN KNEW THERE WERE sparks. She and Matt had practically combusted every time they’d made love.
But chemistry was not enough to guarantee a connection would go anywhere but the bedroom.
And as time went on, and she saw others finding their one true love, Jen was beginning to realize that she wanted permanence, too.
Maybe even marriage, if it could be the kind Cy and Celia had, or Emmett and Margarite had once enjoyed.
Unfortunately, there was no crystal ball that would give her a glimpse into the future. All she could do was wait and see what evolved with her and Matt and the incredibly intense chemistry they had.
Well, that, and work. And work some more.
So that was what Jen did. She coated the armatures of both horses, as well as the figures of Margarite and Emmett, with wet clay, stopping only when the light faded and her hands were too tired to continue.
She relaxed in a bath, then met Matt and Emmett in the dining room at eight, for dinner.
Conversation was cordial, but the underlying mood in the room was tense and unhappy.
Jen begged off early and went to her room.
She Skyped briefly with Celia, Cy and their adorable new baby girl, Cassandra, answered her email, then turned off the computer, and eventually, her bedside lamp.
That was when she heard a soft knock at the door.
* * *
MATT KNEW IT WAS LATE. Jen might even already be asleep.
He’d been in such a foul mood today that she had every right to want to avoid him. But luck was with him. She opened the door a crack.
She was clad in a tank top and loose-fitting sleep shorts that fell to mid-thigh. Barefoot. Face scrubbed. With her soft chestnut hair tousled and sexy, she was pure woman.
His body responded. Holding one hand behind his back, wishing
he didn’t feel quite so rough around the edges, he asked, “Can I come in?”
She looked at him the way he had initially looked at her when she had first accepted the commission—with wary caution. Her gaze swept over his untucked shirt and jeans and sock-clad feet before returning ever so slowly to his eyes.
Desire simmered between them, more powerful than ever.
Jen kept her guard up. “Your dad…”
Matt wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t want or need Jen. “Went to sleep right after dinner.”
Some emotion crossed her face at that, but Jen recovered quickly and narrowed her eyes. She remained where she was, her body wedged in the slight opening between door and frame. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she told him flatly.
Matt knew it wasn’t—if they wanted to keep their hearts intact. But he wasn’t sure he still did. He faced his quarry. “You haven’t heard my proposal yet.”
Her nose wrinkled as she repeated softly, “A proposal.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She looked him over speculatively and he wished he knew what she was thinking. Wished life were simpler. That he’d found her first, instead of his dad, and was free to pursue her with no strings attached.
Finally, she propped one hand on her hip, clung to the edge of the door with the other and said, “What kind?”
He took in the pink of her cheeks, and the mixture of vulnerability and vibrancy in her eyes. “Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
Jen took her time considering. Finally, she swung the door open and stepped back, but only two paces. Crossing her arms, she said, “I’m waiting.”
Matt showed her what he had been hiding. A plastic grocery sack.
“Wow. Now I’m really impressed.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he teased.
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you wish.”
“That is, until you look.” He opened the bag. Inside were two cartons of premium ice cream, two bottles of her favorite brand of sparkling water and two spoons he had pilfered from the silverware drawer in the kitchen. “It’s a hot night.” And what was better in the heat of a Texas summer than cold ice cream and a gorgeous woman who was as hot for him as he was for her?
Jen groaned, whether in anticipation or dismay, he couldn’t tell. “You really like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
With you, I do. Not sure where that had come from, Matt ignored the demands of his body and turned his attention back to the ice cream cartons. “Ladies first.”
Jen tapped her lip in a parody of indecision. “Chocolate almond coconut and chocolate cherry vanilla.” Her smile lit up her face. “How did you know my two favorites?”
“Cy and Celia.”
Finally, he had really surprised—heck, maybe even impressed—her. Hot damn.
Jen blinked and asked in mild shock, “You called them?”
“Email,” Matt confirmed, glad to at least be invited into Jen’s lair. He shut the bedroom door behind him. “They were only too happy to supply the data.”
She groaned again, this time in dismay. She set the ice cream down and drew up the covers on the bed, then sat cross-legged on top of the comforter. “My friends are going to draw all sorts of conclusions from that, you know.” She handed him his share of the loot.
“Good.” Matt sat facing her, giving her plenty of room. “I’d like it if people thought we were both off the market.”
Jen went still.
Valiantly, he pushed on. “I’m asking you if you want to be exclusive.”
Another silence. This one was less shocked, more thoughtful.
She worked the top off the ice cream container. Stuck the spoon in. Waited. “We haven’t had a single date yet.”
Matt wondered if she had ever looked more beautiful. Or out of his league. “This doesn’t count?” His voice had a telltale rasp.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
He was prepared to work harder, especially when he wanted something as badly as he wanted Jen. “Well, then,” he drawled, with a teasing smile and a playful wink meant to put her at ease, “we better rectify that.” He took another risk. “How about you go to the West Texas Ranchers Association gala as my date?”
Jen hesitated a beat too long. “How about if we do it after that?” she said finally.
Disappointment sifted through him. Not just because she had turned him down, but because of what her turning him down might mean.
“How come?” he asked casually, still holding her gaze.
Jen bit her lip. “Because I already promised your father that I’d let him introduce me to some prominent collectors who might want to commission some works from me. And when I do go out with you, on our first official date, I’d like it to be just you and me…and no one else.”
Matt watched her take a bite of ice cream, then took a bite in turn.
“All right. I can understand that.” He thought a moment. “How about this, then? The gala is on Friday night, so instead of coming back on Saturday, we’ll spend the weekend in Fort Worth. And have several dates there, just the two of us.” Where he could really wine and dine her, without interference.
This time Jen smiled. “Wow. Sounds like you really want to please me.”
“I do.” Matt took her hand and kissed the back of it. “And I will.”
Chapter Twelve
The morning started out great. Jen was definitely feeling the afterglow of an evening spent flirting and hanging out with Matt. Her van was finally ready to be picked up, and Luz, who was on her way into town to do her weekly grocery shopping, offered to drop Jen off at the auto shop en route.
That happiness faded as soon as she was presented with the repaired vehicle. Jen stared at the gleaming white van with the buffed interior and fancy hubcaps. “That’s not…that can’t be mine.”
Holly, the service manager, beamed with pride. “Matt said you would be surprised.”
Jen pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Surprised isn’t the word for it,” she muttered under her breath. She walked around the vehicle, examining the relic that now looked brand-new. If you could account for the twenty-year-old design, that is.
Trying not to consider the implications of Matt’s actions, Jen walked the perimeter and let out a breath. “Did someone paint this?”
“Yep.” Holly rocked back on her heels. “Nice job, huh?”
Imagining how much it was all going to cost, Jen felt on the verge of a panic attack. “And the wheels and the hubcaps…”
“Are all brand-new,” she affirmed, consulting the clipboard in her hands. She scanned one page, then two others. “As well as the transmission, the radiator, all the belts and hoses, windshield wipers.”
Trying not to faint, Jen wrung her hands together. “How much is all this going to cost?”
“Nothing. Matt Briscoe paid for it, when he arranged for service.”
Jen’s temper soared. She offered a tight smile. “I still need to see the damage.”
Holly cocked her head and studied Jen for a long minute. “Sure? ’Cause there’s really no need.”
“I want to see it.”
With a sigh, she capitulated and handed over the clipboard.
As Jen had feared, the charges were enormous. She swallowed and handed back the pages of itemized charges.
Holly continued looking at her as if she thought Jen had lost her mind. Finally, she drawled, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look all that happy about this.”
Jen bit down on an oath, knowing it wouldn’t be fair to take her anger at Matt out on the service manager, even though the woman was butting in where she shouldn’t be. “I’m not.”
“Well, if you ask me, honey, you should be ecstatic!”
Jen leaned against her beloved van and lifted a brow, curious as to why.
Holly came nearer and her voice dropped to a confidential murmur. “Do you know how many women around here would give anything to be in your place?”
Given ho
w sexy and charming and rich Matt was, Jen guessed quite a few.
“You’ve got yourself quite a catch!”
“I don’t…” Jen swallowed, then tried again. “We’re not…” What were they?
They hadn’t even had a first date…
Yet here he was, making waves in Laramie County by purchasing thousands of dollars of van repairs for her. Publicly, no less!
What did that make him?
What did that make her?
What, Jen wondered, did any of it mean?
* * *
MATT WAS ELBOW DEEP in the ranch books when Jen stormed into the study. She looked loaded for bear. Which was not what he expected. He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the sight of her in a turquoise tank top, white denim skirt and flip-flops. Her hair was in sexy disarray, wisps slipping out of the fancy twist on the back of her head, but she didn’t seem to notice as she drew a deep, bolstering breath. “Something wrong with your dress?” Matt asked, knowing something had in her a tizzy.
She stared at him for an interminable beat, then narrowed her eyes. “What?”
He put down his pen, still watching her closely. “For the gala. I thought you were picking it up this morning.”
Jen pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead in frustration. “Darn it.” She stamped her foot in frustration. “I was so upset I forgot!”
He rose from his chair and strode toward her. “Upset about what?”
“What do you think?” She held her chin high and circled away from him, putting more distance between them. “My van!”
Matt took the hint and went back to the desk. He sat on the edge of it, legs stretched out, hands braced on either side of him.
Damn, but she was pretty, with pink color flooding her cheeks and the gleam of agitation in her eyes. Pretty enough to kiss…if she’d let him. Which she clearly would not.
Still trying to figure out what was going on with her, he observed, “I thought the auto shop did an excellent job.”
“You saw it.” The three words carried a wealth of accusation.
“Yeah. Well…” Restless, Matt stood once again. “It hadn’t been entirely fixed. They were still waiting on a couple of the parts, but the paint job was done and the new tires and hubcaps were on.”
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