by Lisa Carter
She twirled the strand of hair around her finger. “If you wouldn’t mind the company, I’d love to help you, Jonas.”
AnnaBeth had beautiful hair. Pulse-zinging, knee-buckling, gorgeous hair.
Jonas swallowed past the boulder lodged in his throat. “I—I wouldn’t mind some company.”
Her company in particular. He realized how silent his world had become. How barren and devoid of life.
Next year, Hunter would be going to kindergarten every day. And Jonas feared the silence might grow deafening.
For all her bright chatter, he liked spending time with the flatlander. Being with AnnaBeth was like getting a dose of sunshine. And happiness, too. Outside of his son, it was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
He felt an unusual connection with AnnaBeth that he hadn’t known with anyone else since... Since never?
Jonas turned on the faucet and rinsed out the cup. “Won’t take long with the two of us working together.”
She blew out a breath. As if she’d feared he would turn her away. Like he had it in him to deny himself the opportunity to bask in her perennial cheerfulness.
Throwing him a big smile, she moved toward the mudroom to grab her coat. “I can’t wait to start.”
And suddenly, neither could he.
Chapter Seven
Her breath visible in the chilly afternoon air, AnnaBeth held the horse’s bridle while Jonas harnessed Culpepper to the flatbed wagon loaded with hay.
“I’ll need you to open the pasture gate and when I’m through, close it behind me.”
Tossing his mane, Culpepper whinnied.
Eyebrow quirking, Jonas glanced at her over the Culpepper’s broad, russet-colored back. “Was that a yes?”
“A yes from both of us.” She stroked Culpepper’s silky smooth nose. “What’s the other horse’s name?”
“Finian.” Jonas stepped into the wagon. “You can climb aboard now.” Reaching, he offered her his hand.
His hand was warm. Strong. Wonderful. She loved his hands.
Biting off a sigh, she allowed him to help her into the wagon. With the flatbed piled high with hay bales, it was standing-room-only at the front.
Making a clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth, he set the horses in motion. The wagon lurched. She fell against the rail.
“Whoa there.” Jonas steadied her. “I probably should’ve mentioned it’ll be a bumpy ride.”
“No worries.” She shrugged. “Just got to find my sea legs... I mean, wagon legs.”
The wheels rolled over the snow toward the far line of the fence.
From under the brim of his cowboy hat, he cut his eyes at her. “Hang on to my arm.”
Jonas’s wish was her command. She placed her hand on the soft suede of his coat.
When they arrived at the pasture gate, she jumped down to unfasten the latch on the gate. Her boots crunched across the snow. Once he’d driven the team through, she swung the gate closed and refastened the catch.
A few yards ahead, he pulled the team to a stop, waiting for her. And once again, he leaned down to assist her into the wagon.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Only the snapping of the leather bridle and the wind sloughing through the snow-laden evergreens broke the companionable silence between them. There was a pine-scented tang in the air. Breathing deeply, she didn’t feel the need for words. A first for her.
Within a few moments, however, she detected the sound of galloping hooves. About a dozen horses appeared at the top of the next ridge.
“They’re beautiful.” She let go of his arm. “The FieldStone Ranch is so beautiful. The air so pure and clean. I imagine your guests never want to leave.”
His gaze raked her face. “I rode the rodeo circuit for a while, but once Hunter was born I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else.”
“Hunter is very blessed to be able to call this place home.”
A smile graced his cheeks. “I’ve always thought so. I’m glad you think so, too.”
She gazed at the milling horses. “What do you want me to do now, Jonas?”
He steered the wagon in a half circle in the middle of the field. “You seem pretty comfortable around horses.”
“Like many preteen girls, I was fairly horse-crazy.” She smiled. “I guess some things never change.”
“You’ve spent time with horses then?”
It always embarrassed AnnaBeth to talk about her silver-spoon childhood. Often, people made erroneous assumptions about her because of her father’s wealth. And over the years, she learned to downplay that aspect of her life.
“My stepmother, Victoria, is horse-crazy, too. MaryDru and I have ridden since we were children.” She lifted her chin. “I’m aware what people think about someone like me. But we weren’t spoiled. Victoria also made us groom the horses and muck the stalls.”
A line appeared on the bridge above his nose. And she had the irrational urge to smooth the crease with the tip of her finger. Instead, she stuck her hand in her coat pocket lest she give in to the temptation to touch him.
He flicked the reins, urging the team along. “I don’t think material possessions and character have to be an either-or proposition.”
She sighed. “Unfortunately there are far too many in my crowd about which that’s probably true. Within my own family,” she added under her breath.
He pulled the horses up short. “I’ve been guilty of jumping to wrong conclusions, too. But unless they’ve walked in your—ahem—high heels, people shouldn’t judge.”
She blinked. “Why, Jonas, did you just make a joke?”
He flicked his eyes at her. “Maybe.”
She nudged his shoulder. “I’m impressed.”
He gave her a crooked smile. And she put her hand over her chest, fearing her heart might explode. Mission accomplished. Jonas-Stone smile achieved.
Wow. Just wow.
Maybe it was better he didn’t smile often. Even a small smile from him did dangerous things to her nerve endings. He should come with warning labels.
“You know what they say about animals and kids, AnnaBeth.”
She tore herself from joyful cowboy dreams. “What do they say?”
“Animals and kids are the best judges of character. To Hunter, you’re in a top tier that has nothing to do with money.” He returned the shoulder nudge. “You’re okay.” A lopsided grin this time. “For a flatlander.”
“Why, Jonas, darlin’.” She batted her eyes at him. “How lovely of you to say so.”
He laughed, as she’d meant him to. She didn’t think he laughed enough. Perhaps because of whatever happened with Hunter’s mom.
At the thought of Kasey Stone, her good mood seeped away. Jonas must be one of those lifers—a one-woman man.
Maybe they’d had one of those soul-mate relationships. The kind of love she’d longed for her whole life but never found.
Which made her sad. Not only for Jonas and Hunter. But also for other women like herself who were looking for a one-man, cowboy love of their own.
“Sweet potatoes,” she muttered.
Jonas looked at her funny. “You okay?”
Immediately, she screwed her face into a semblance of cheerfulness. “I’m great. What else can I do to help you?”
Nobody liked a Gloomy Gus, Victoria always said. Another Victoria-ism—fake it ’til you make it.
He scowled, dimming her optimism. “I asked about the horses because you can either steer the team around the pasture, or break open the bales and throw the hay over the side.”
She wasn’t sure what had set him off this time. They’d been getting along so well, talking freely, like they were friends and not mere acquaintances a freak snowstorm had inconveniently thrown together.
Perhaps he’d had too much Ann
aBeth time. She’d been told she had that effect on people. Maybe they both needed space.
“If it’s just the same to you, I think I’ll...” Moving toward the bale, she snagged a handful of hay. “Throw it onto the ground, right?”
His handsome mouth resembled the flat line on a hospital heart monitor—the same disapproving way he’d first looked at her when he nearly ran her down. And realized he was going to have to take her home with him.
“Like this?” She went from one side of the wagon to the other, tossing the hay onto the ground.
Drawing closer, the herd munched the fresh, clean feed.
“Stop.”
“What?” She froze in midmotion. “What am I doing wrong?”
After tying the reins around the railing, he clambered over to her.
“I’m sorry, Jonas.” She felt near tears. Must she always be so useless?
When he took hold of her clenched fist, she gasped. Her hand quivered in his large palm.
“Put on your gloves. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Gently, he pried open her fingers, one by one, until the hay fell to the wagon floor. “Your hands are too pretty to get scratched up like mine, AnnaBeth.”
“I like your hands.”
Her mouth snapped shut. Her stomach wrenched. Had she actually said that out loud?
But he gave her a soft, slow smile. And her knees nearly buckled.
“That’s mighty sweet of you to say, AnnaBeth.”
She really, really liked hearing her name on his lips.
His powerful shoulders rose and fell. “I’m nothing special.” His gaze fell to her fingers. “Mine are just cowboy hands.”
AnnaBeth’s heart skipped a beat.
When he brought her hand to his mouth, she believed she might die of happiness right there, surrounded by snuffling horses and scratchy hay bales.
He brushed his lips against her knuckles and held them there for a long second. “Gloves, AnnaBeth,” he rasped against her skin.
She felt light-headed all of a sudden. “Okeydokey...”
Was she a teenager or what? She made a living with her words. But Jonas Stone never failed to reduce her to a fluttery pool of melted goo.
Still, he hadn’t let go of her hand.
Get a hold of yourself, girl. Before you say something else totally inane and pointless.
She pulled her hand free.
“Right.” He straightened. “Back to work.”
She slipped her gloves over her fingers, tingling from the remembered touch of his lips. And while he drove a wide circle around the pasture, she spread hay like nobody’s business. Like the best flatlander cowgirl he’d ever see.
Eventually, they off-loaded the hay, and he brought the team back to the barn.
She jumped down and held the bridle for him again. “What about Culpepper and Finian?”
“Like me, these two prefer to stick closer to home.” He unharnessed the horses. “I’m going to put them into their stalls.” Taking hold of their bridles, he led the horses into the barn.
She followed him inside, and untacked Finian while he untacked Culpepper. After grooming the horses, they forked hay into the stalls.
AnnaBeth was feeling pretty good about her brand-new skills. Until Jonas’s next words.
“Why is it you’ve never asked about Hunter’s mother?”
Did she truly want to hear Jonas mourn the whip-thin, blond cowgirl in the photo on Hunter’s bookcase?
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
* * *
Shutting Finian into his stall, Jonas became unnerved by AnnaBeth’s unaccustomed silence. Her emerald eyes had darkened, and her face had become unreadable.
He decided to rephrase—in case she hadn’t heard him the first time. “You’ve never asked about Hunter’s mother.”
AnnaBeth pursed her lips. “Not any of my business.” She spread the blanket across Culpepper’s broad back.
He folded his arms. “I’m okay talking about it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really?”
Disliking her implication, he jutted his jaw. “Really.”
At least, when it came to a certain runaway bride.
Shy and reserved by nature, he’d never be accused of being the life of the party. Unlike his good friend Ethan Green. But he did know confidences begat confidences. There was so much about AnnaBeth he didn’t know...that he wanted to know.
Info she’d chosen not to reveal about herself. Like earlier when clearly something she was thinking had clouded her face. But when he’d asked her what was wrong, she’d put on the Little-Mary-Sunshine routine she’d perfected to an art form.
And he didn’t like it—not when she kept him at arm’s length. On the same shallow, need-to-know footing people reserved for mere acquaintances. Going-nowhere relationships.
He sucked in a breath. Is that what he wanted? A relationship? With AnnaBeth?
Jonas scrubbed his hand over his face. No matter the chemistry between them, his heart was in Truelove, at the FieldStone.
And who knew where her heart lay?
Rocking on her heels, she crossed her arms over her coat. “Why tell me about your wife, Jonas?”
“Because...” He took a deep breath. “Despite being a chatterbox—”
She gave him a look. “You’re going to say something complimentary next, right?”
His mouth curved. He was doing that a lot lately...whenever he was around AnnaBeth.
“Despite being a chatterbox—”
He waited a half second, just to raise her dander. He wasn’t disappointed. Her cheeks went pink. Redheads were so fun to provoke.
“—you, AnnaBeth Cummings, are a good listener. I feel comfortable talking with you.”
“I’m safe.” She nodded. “I get that a lot.”
He frowned. That wasn’t what he meant.
But this was why he didn’t talk more, especially to women. They often misinterpreted even the simplest of conversations.
He scowled. “No, AnnaBeth—”
“Yes, Jonas...” She lifted her chin. “It’s okay. I feel safe with you, too.” She smiled.
AnnaBeth felt safe with him? That was good, right? Then why did he somehow feel insulted?
Somewhere this entire conversation had gone off the rails. And he wasn’t sure how to get it back on track. It was like she was trying to distract and confuse him. Deliberately veer him off-topic. But why?
He lifted his hat, then resettled it on his head. “I mean, I’d like to think we’re friends, AnnaBeth.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Friends?”
“I could use a friend.” He shuffled his boots. “I’m guessing you could probably use a friend, too.”
Jonas was nothing if not rational. He couldn’t afford to get too invested in her. Nor her in him. Friendship made much more sense. It was the only option either of them could or should consider.
Having sorted it out in his mind, he already felt better about the situation.
Friends. That’s what they’d be. Problem solved.
As for the unnamed feelings he’d been experiencing since meeting her, he reassured himself only a complete idiot wouldn’t empathize with someone who found themselves in a similar circumstance.
Right. Good. Glad he’d got that squared away. Except, she hadn’t said anything. Not good.
Instead, she stared at him like he’d suddenly grown horns.
* * *
Earlier, when his son had asked Jonas to be AnnaBeth’s friend, Jonas had looked as if he’d prefer to do anything—short of torture and death—than be her friend.
Why the change of heart?
Other than the fact he now wanted to talk about his late, great, dead wife?
“Sweet potatoes,” she muttered.
Jo
nas looked at her.
And when he gazed at her with those melted-chocolate eyes of his, she couldn’t help but go all instant pudding on him.
There’s not going to be a way to dodge this bullet, is there, God?
Jonas, spilling his guts about his lost love. Remorse pricked her conscience.
Stoic, aloof Jonas admitted he needed a friend. Which obviously meant he trusted her if he was ready to tell her his life story. She should be flattered.
Why wasn’t she flattered that Jonas wanted to be her friend?
“AnnaBeth?”
She refocused. And reconciled herself to yet another Tell-Me-About-Your-Romance-with-Another-Woman conversation.
AnnaBeth moistened her bottom lip. “Hunter showed me the photo of his mother. He said her name was Kasey.”
When a shadow passed over his face, AnnaBeth felt it like a punch to the gut.
The mere mention of his wife’s name... Jonas still loved Kasey so much.
He looked away. Jonas couldn’t even look her in the eye and tell the story of his one true love.
“Kasey and I met on the rodeo circuit.”
Then he stalled. Apparently, she’d also need to prompt him through the story.
“You rode broncos.”
Jonas nodded. “My wife—”
He blew out a breath. “Kasey had spent her life on the circuit. Her parents were well-known in rodeo circles. She did barrel racing.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
He rubbed his neck. “But therein lies the thrill.”
“I’m sure it’s an adrenaline rush.”
Whereas her idea of an adrenaline rush was wearing white shoes before Easter.
“After a while, I lost the taste for rodeoing. Too much to live for outside the arena.”
She wasn’t sure how she should respond to that, so she kept quiet.
His gaze flickered over the snow-dappled ridge. “I’m ashamed to tell you the rest. It does me no credit, but I fell away from God during those years on the circuit.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Kasey and I... She got pregnant.”
AnnaBeth hadn’t seen that coming. But Jonas’s eyes found hers, waiting for her reaction.
