“Jesse?”
He wanted to ignore her. He wished he hadn’t made that unnecessary crack about not being around. “What do you want, squirt?”
She didn’t react to the hated childhood nickname. “It’s almost Christmas. You know how much the holidays mean to Mom.”
“I’m not gonna mess anything up, okay?”
“Not on purpose you wouldn’t.”
Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his hand. “What do you want from me, Rachel? I cut down the trees for the living room and the den, strung the lights along the eves. I’m here. I’m participating.”
Except he wasn’t really here, not emotionally. That’s what Rachel was getting at, even though she managed to give him a small smile. “I know, Jesse. You’ve been great about helping us decorate. You have far more patience than Cole or Trace for that sort of thing.”
He tugged at a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Shower first, then I’ll help set the table.”
“I have something else I’d rather you do,” she said quickly.
“What’s that?”
“Shea is staying in the guest wing. First room on the right. Knock on her door and tell her dinner will be ready in ten.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, then just nodded. Hell, he didn’t have to be in a hospitable mood to knock on a door.
“And don’t take no for an answer,” Rachel added, wagging a wooden spoon at him. “I’m holding you responsible.”
Jesus, his sister could be a pain in the ass. He waved her off, headed out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Voices and laughter came from the den and he thought about yanking Trace away to go get the woman. But that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, once he showed his face he’d have to acknowledge Jamie, then make small talk.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Cole’s girlfriend—he did. He was glad they’d hooked up. His brother couldn’t have done better. But there would be enough time for socializing at dinner. The forty minutes of mindless pleasantries seemed to be as much as Jesse could handle lately.
He’d peeled off his clothes, showered and shampooed in nine minutes, then stood at the woman’s door, trying like hell to recall her name. Didn’t matter. Basically, he was only delivering a message.
She answered his knock immediately, warily pulling open the door a few inches and regarding him with surprised gray-blue eyes. She blinked, did a quick survey of his flannel shirt and jeans, then met his eyes again. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Um...” He stepped back. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Blinking again, she opened the door a little more, enough for him to see that she also wore jeans and that her feet were bare. “I saw you earlier.” She moved the long bangs away from her eyes. “Are you Rachel’s brother?”
Jesse nodded and almost smiled at the trim woman. Straight off, there was something different about her. Unlike so many of the females who’d been guests at the ranch, she hadn’t been artful or flirty with her hair, she’d just shoved it out of the way. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, disengaging from her forthright stare to get a better look.
Shea held herself tall even though she wasn’t. He’d guess five-six? A little thin, but no big deal. While her body was pleasant, he was drawn back to her face, her unusual eyes with their dark lashes. He liked that she had full lips but didn’t wear a hint of lipstick on them. He might not mind the look of the gloss, but he’d never liked the taste.
“Uh,” she said, shaking her head, her straight light brown hair swinging from side to side and bringing him back to the conversation. “I’m not eating with you.”
He didn’t know what to say at first and just stared as she pressed her lips together, making one cheek dimple. “Should I take this personally?”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I promised Rachel I wouldn’t be any trouble. I have some cheese crackers here....” A slight frown puckered her brows. “There’s no rule against eating in the rooms, is there?”
“I doubt it.” Jesse laughed. “Look, Rachel made lasagna. If you don’t come down, she’ll be charging up to get you. Not to mention I’ll get chewed out.”
“Hmm, this is a bit awkward,” she said, with a frank unwavering gaze he found intriguing. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be an issue.”
He moved farther back to give her space. “For now how about coming downstairs with me? I can smell the lasagna from here.”
She sniffed, and her stomach growled loudly. She glanced down with annoyance and pressed a hand to her flat belly. “I haven’t had home cooking in a long time, and you’re right, it smells heavenly.”
“My sister can be a pain in the neck, but I’ll admit, the woman can cook.”
She flashed him a quick smile. “I’m Shea, by the way. Did you tell me your name?”
He shrugged. “It’s Jesse.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jesse.” She offered her hand in an unexpected businesslike manner.
“Likewise.” He liked her firm grip, the softness of her palm pressed against his. “I hear Rachel rounding up everyone.”
“What?”
“I think dinner is on the table.”
“Okay.” She released his hand and dragged her palm down the front of her jeans. She slipped through the doorway into the hall, still barefoot.
“No one will care whether you’re wearing shoes or not, but you should know we have wood floors downstairs.”
Shea looked down. “Oh.” She grinned and wiggled her toes. When she lifted her gaze, her cheeks were slightly flushed, making her eyes seem a little bluer. “I forgot. You go ahead if you want. I’ll be right there.”
He watched her disappear into her room but didn’t move except to fold his arms across his chest, lean against the wall and wait. The irony of him being the one Rachel sent as the family’s goodwill ambassador wasn’t lost on him. He of all people couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to sit around with a bunch of strangers and he’d be the last person coaxing someone to the table.
Yeah, he’d considered backing off, letting her eat her crackers in peace. But he didn’t think Shea’s reluctance was due to shyness or anything other than genuinely not wanting to intrude. What a change from most of the guests who’d come to stay since Rachel started the dude ranch six months ago.
Some of those women had been something else. Even Trace, who was quite the Casanova, had started complaining about finding them under every rock. Not that it mattered to Jesse. He’d usher Shea downstairs and that would be it. If he had a rescue to deliver, maybe he’d see her at the shelter. And if not, that was fine, too.
3
WHEN SHEA SAW all the people sitting at the large dining-room table she wanted to turn around and run. Of course the whole family would be here. What was she thinking agreeing to have dinner with them? She’d let her empty tummy sway her.
“Here, Shea.” Rachel pulled out a chair. “Sit next to me. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
They were all looking at her with friendly expressions but that didn’t help. Her pulse had already started racing, her legs felt leaden and stiff and she was pretty much stuck because she doubted she could make it up the stairs.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the pressure of a hand at the small of her back. She whipped her head around and met Jesse’s warm brown eyes.
“Go ahead,” he said, with an encouraging smile—he must have noticed how tense she was. That knowledge didn’t help one bit. “I’ll get you something to drink. Wine?”
She jerked her chin in some vague form of a nod and kept her focus on the empty chair until she was safely seated.
No one seemed to have observed her attack of nerves, no one except Jesse, of course. Rachel had already started passing a platter of bread and butter around the table.
“Listen up, everyone,” she said, pulling a large glass bowl of salad toward her. “This is Shea. I lied and told her how nice and perf
ectly civilized we all are, so try and fake it, okay?”
Laughter interspersed with indignation filled the room. The older woman Shea had seen earlier sat at the head of the table shushing them, then directed a smile at Shea. “I’m Barbara McAllister, the mother of this rowdy bunch. Except Jamie over there, who I’ve decided to claim, anyway.”
Grinning, the blonde lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.
“That’s Cole cutting the lasagna,” Barbara continued.
“Glad you could join us, Shea,” he said, regarding her with the same dark eyes as Jesse. “Hand me your plate. I’ve got a nice big juicy piece for you.”
“Come on, you know I have a system.” Rachel stopped tossing the greens to glare at her brother. “Keep cutting. Let me get the salad passed around clockwise and then—”
“Oh, Christ, here we go—”
“Trace!” Barbara gave him a reproving look.
A giggle rose in Shea’s throat and she pressed her lips together trying to smother the sound.
Rachel clearly heard. “What?” she asked, her mouth slightly curved. “It’s okay. Everyone laughs at Trace.”
“No, your system. Passing clockwise,” Shea said, trying to compose herself. “I get that. I really do.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said with a smug lift of her chin aimed at Trace.
He made a crack that Shea didn’t hear because Jesse came up behind her, and suddenly all her senses were fixated on him.
“Would you like white or red?” he asked, bending close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
She turned her head and saw that he was holding a bottle of wine in each hand. “Actually, I’m not much of a drinker. Maybe I should stick with water.”
“All right, but this chardonnay is pretty good stuff.” His voice was low and deep, and terribly unnerving because it seemed meant only for her.
Shea sighed. Probably a mistake given that she was already feeling rather warm, but she said, “Maybe a little.”
“Wine?” Trace snorted. “What’s the occasion?”
“Think, you heathen. We’re celebrating Jamie coming to be with us for the holidays.” Rachel sprinkled sunflower seeds on the salad, gave it a long approving look, then passed the bowl to her mother.
Jamie grinned. “We can always hook you up to a keg, Trace.”
“Hey, I’m down with that.” Trace smiled, his teeth strikingly white against his tan skin.
He was one of those real charmers, Shea thought, watching the way he casually combed his fingers through his thick dark hair. Probably had a string of girlfriends.
Shea forgot all about Trace as Jesse leaned in between her and Rachel to pour them each some wine. He brushed her shoulder as he maneuvered his upper body through the narrow space. Angled toward Shea, his flat belly only inches away, he ignited a tingling, nervous sensation that made her hold her breath and force her face straight.
One, two, three...four, five, six...seven, eight, nine...
His task accomplished, he retreated, and she stopped counting, unclenched her teeth and let out a slow breath that was still a bit shaky.
“Thank you,” she managed to say in a small voice.
“You’re welcome.” He’d already moved on to his mother, poured red for her and then continued on, filling everyone else’s glasses.
Okay, that was weird. Not her reaction—she always hated when anyone got too close—but the heat spreading through her limbs unsettled her some. Jeez, was she ever regretting the dinner invitation. This was torture and to top it off, her appetite was gone.
She hadn’t realized she was still tracking him until she heard her name and it was clear someone was trying to get her attention.
Blinking, she glanced around the table and saw Mrs. McAllister smiling at her.
“It’s so good of you to give up the holidays with your family to volunteer at Safe Haven,” she said. “The people there are wonderful and I’m sure they appreciate your sacrifice.”
“Oh, it’s no sacrifice.” Shea realized how that sounded, picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “I wanted to get away for the holidays.”
“I did, too.” Jamie accepted the bowl of salad from Trace and heaped some on her plate. “I don’t have any brothers and sisters, and my parents live in Zurich, so I’m glad the McAllisters took pity on me.”
“Excuse me.” Cole stopped serving lasagna to lift an eyebrow at her. “Is that your only reason for coming?”
Even as the corners of Jamie’s mouth quirked, her forehead creased in a confused frown. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said with an exaggerated innocence that even Shea could tell was a fake.
“Zap!” Trace barked out a laugh. “How’s your ego, bro?”
Jamie leaned over and kissed Cole half on the mouth and half on the cheek, her hand reaching under the table.
“I’d shut up until I got my lasagna if I were you,” Rachel told Trace.
“If you were me you’d be smarter and better-looking.”
“Oh, God.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mom, are you sure you didn’t find him on the side of the road?”
“You’re all hopeless.” Barbara McAllister shook her head, but it was clear she didn’t mind her children horsing around.
Jesse smiled at the teasing as he took his seat but he seemed to be the most serious of the bunch. Shea thought back to when she first saw him, standing apart from the rest of the family. He hadn’t rushed to greet Jamie, though Shea had a feeling his reticence had nothing to do with the woman.
The salad finished making its round. Everyone but Shea had taken a slice of bread, which looked homemade. Plates were passed to receive the cheesy pasta, but not to Rachel’s satisfaction because she complained her system had been ruined.
Shea liked her. A lot. She liked Jamie, too, because Shea had the impression that Jamie had chimed in to bail her out.
It was odd for her to take a liking to anyone so quickly. Her gaze drifted to Jesse. She kind of liked him, too, but she hated that he was sitting directly across from her. It was difficult not to stare at him.
His hair was still a little damp on top, but the sides were so short they were already dry. The conservative cut made her think he’d be the clean-shaven type, but he’d left the stubble of beard that shadowed his jaw and chin. That and his tanned skin gave him a rugged look. She found the combination oddly appealing.
Rachel must have passed Shea’s plate to Cole without her seeing because it was now heaping with a portion she’d never be able to finish. It smelled divine, though, and with her renewed appetite she was willing to give it her best try.
For a few minutes it was quiet while everyone dug in to their meals. Ignoring the tempting aroma of the lasagna, she started with her salad because that’s what she always did. She’d finished chewing a cherry tomato when Rachel turned to her.
“So, Shea, do you ride?” she asked.
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “A little. I took refresher lessons last week, but I don’t think that’s a requirement of the shelter.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. I thought you might enjoy a trail ride tomorrow. We have a couple of very gentle mares in our stables, and since it’s your only free day before you start at Safe Haven—”
“I don’t have a free day. I start tomorrow. But thank you for your offer.”
Frowning, Rachel put down her fork. “I thought Annie Sheridan said she would be giving the volunteers their orientation.”
Shea had the name of her contact written down but she was fairly certain it was Annie. “Yes, I believe she’s the person I spoke to.”
“That’s odd. She told me she had three volunteers answer her ad and they all started on Monday. Maybe I’m wrong. Forget I said anything.”
Panic squeezed Shea’s chest. Had she mixed up the dates? It was possible. She’d been in such a hurry. Tomorrow was Sunday. Oh, God, why hadn’t she stopped to conside
r this was the weekend and starting on Monday made much more sense?
The sudden lapse into silence flustered her. Not only that, but she also just knew everyone was staring at her. She refused to look up but concentrated on spearing another cherry tomato. She’d promised to stay out of the family’s way. They were probably wondering why she’d arrived a day early.
“I think I’ll drive over there tomorrow, anyway.” She gave a small shrug. “Maybe they could still use some help.”
“Actually, I think Annie’s in Kalispell picking up supplies,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s really the perfect time for a trail ride.” She paused. “I can take you myself.”
Oh, how Shea wished the beautiful finished wood floor would simply part and swallow her whole. This was so typical of her. Couldn’t even keep a date straight.
* * *
JESSE CHEWED his food and took a quick sip of wine to wash it down. It wasn’t like Rachel to be insensitive. Why the hell didn’t she lay off? Couldn’t she see that Shea was embarrassed? The poor woman could barely look up.
“I’ll take you,” he said, keeping his gaze on her, knowing that everyone else’s attention abruptly turned to him. “I have to inspect some fencing along the north pasture. Won’t take long, then we can head over to Lincoln Pass. That is, if you’re interested.”
Her anxious eyes met his. “I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said softly.
“I have to go, anyway.” He shrugged. “It’s beautiful country, when it’s not buried under ten feet of snow. Even then, it’s something to see.”
“You should go,” Rachel said, laying a hand on Shea’s arm. “Between the weather and your duties at the shelter, tomorrow may be your only chance.” She smiled. “I could pack you guys a picnic lunch.”
He wanted like hell to nail his well-intentioned sister with a don’t-push-it glare but he couldn’t risk Shea seeing it. “Maybe we could work the ride around lunchtime,” he said, fully intending to pull Rachel aside later. He didn’t want her to read too much into his offer.
“I know the area Jesse’s talking about,” Jamie said. “It’s breathtaking and you shouldn’t miss it. Rachel, pass the bread, will you?”
On a Snowy Christmas Night Page 3
