by Jennie Marts
He’d kept his guard up, even after they’d hugged the first time, trying to keep things light with jokes and banter. But then they’d hugged again. And again. Each time breaking down another wall of his defenses.
Then last night, she’d taken a sledgehammer to that wall when she’d said she was falling in love with him again.
How had he forgotten that this is what love in his life felt like? For him, love was about loss and leaving and having women walk away. First his mom, then Jocelyn. Even Ashley, who he hadn’t even given his whole heart to—how could he? It still belonged to Joss. But Ashley had left him too.
Why had he let himself believe that this time would be any different? That this time Jocelyn would stay?
There was always something more important than him. Not one woman had ever just put him first.
Anger and hurt and sadness churned in his stomach then made its way up to compress his chest like a vise tightening around his heart. He bit back the howl of rage he wanted to scream, and instead drove his fist into the side of the house.
Jocelyn’s hands were shaking as she poured a glass of water and took a sip. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat, but did nothing to ease the pain in her chest.
She hung her head, her earlier confidence gone. She’d completely botched that with Mack. Why hadn’t she called him last night? Or better yet, gone back over to his place and told him about the offer and the signing bonus? Then he might have understood and they could have come up with a plan—together.
Her misery was a mix of sadness and frustration. She’d tried to tell him about the bonus. She wanted him to understand that she had to take this promotion—for all of them. But he was so angry—and hurt—it was like he wasn’t even hearing anything she’d said.
What should she do? She wanted to forget the meeting and go after him, but that wasn’t an option. Should she call him in the car on the way to Denver? Or give him more time to cool off? She wished she had someone to give her the answers.
She didn’t have any close friends to vent to. She had friends, sure—she’d occasionally go for drinks with a couple of coworkers, and she had some casual acquaintances. She could drink a little wine or go to a movie with her roommates, but she had no one who really understood her, in whom she could confide and share that bond of a true deep authentic friendship. No one, except her grandmother.
Gram had always been the closest thing she had to a best friend. It had been especially tough to start a new school in her teens—friends were already chosen and it was hard to break into those tight-knit groups. But her grandmother had always been there for her. She’d even bought an iPhone so they could text and FaceTime each other.
Gram was a great listener and could always coax a smile or a laugh out of Jocelyn when she was feeling down.
But she couldn’t talk to Gram about this. Because she knew she would tell her to forget the promotion and the signing bonus and to follow her heart. But her grandmother had also instilled a work ethic in Jocelyn that wouldn’t let her just blow off the clients and go after Mack. She’d made a commitment, and she needed to see it through.
Didn’t she?
A knock sounded on the door, and her pulse raced with hope that Mack had come back.
No such luck.
The door eased open, and Sophie poked her head inside. “Hey, there’s a rental car out here waiting for you, Jocelyn. I guess they really do pick you up.”
Dang. How could they be here already? She glanced up at the clock. Right on time. “Thanks Sophie. I’ll be right there.”
She ran down the hall and peered into Gram’s office. She’d checked for the fax with the offer on it the night before and earlier that morning, but nothing had come through. The tray was still empty. Oh well, she’d just have to get the information on her phone.
Grabbing her tote bag, she hauled it over her shoulder, then pulled the suitcase behind her as she pushed past Sophie.
Sophie took a step back and held the door open, but her brows knit together in concern. “Are you leaving? What about the concert? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Denver to meet a client. You all are going to have to handle the concert without me. Despite what everyone thinks, I still have a job, and the promotion I’ve been working toward hinges on this meeting going well.” Her answer was snippy, which Sophie didn’t deserve. She hadn’t done anything other than be kind to Jocelyn.
“Are you coming back? After the meeting?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” It felt like Mack had made it clear that he didn’t care if she came back. And Gram didn’t really need her anymore—she had Midge and seemed to be scooting around just fine.
“But what about Mack? Does he know you’re leaving? I thought you two were getting back together.”
“I thought so too, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to work out.” A pain shot through her stomach, so sharp it threatened to double her over. But she pushed her shoulders back and walked down the porch steps, waving to the driver.
“Not work out? I don’t understand.” Sophie clamored down the stairs after her. “Mack’s been a different guy since you’ve been back. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. If you leave and don’t come back, you’re going to break Mack’s heart.”
Jocelyn offered her a one-shouldered shrug and swallowed at the burn in her throat. “Then you’ll be here to pick up the pieces.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re so much more suited to him anyway. You’re beautiful and so nice, and you love this ranch and history as much as he does.”
“You love this ranch too. I’ve seen you this week. I might not know you that well, but you’ve seemed to be in your element. And I might like history, but you actually have a history here.”
“That’s all it is, my history, my past. My future and my career are back in the city.” Another sting shot through her chest. But where was her life? Her heart? It felt as if she were leaving part of it here.
Sophie’s perfect curls bounced as she shook her head. “Wow. You are as obstinate as those meddling matchmaking grandmas of yours. It sounds like you’ve got our entire future planned out. Although I appreciate the compliments you said about me, have you ever stopped to consider that I might not be interested in Mack Talbot?”
Jocelyn drew up short. “No. How could you not be interested in Mack? He’s gorgeous and kind and funny. And he has a secret romantic streak in him a mile wide. And have you seen his muscles?”
Sophie shrugged. “Yeah, but Mack’s not my type. Like at all. I like blonds, and no offense, but I’m not a huge fan of beards. I’m into cowboys. And I mean real cowboys, the kind who grew up in 4H and know how to ride a horse.” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “The kind who know how to wear a pair of Wranglers, and are comfortable with cowboy boots on their feet and a black Stetson on their head.”
“That’s pretty specific.”
She shrugged again. “I just know what I want. And it’s not Mack Talbot. We’re good friends, and I love the guy, but not like that.”
Wow. She’d had it all wrong. What else was she wrong about?
Jocelyn passed her suitcase to the rental car guy, who stowed it in the trunk then got into the passenger seat. She turned back to Sophie. “I think I misjudged you. And I’m sorry. I’ve got to go now, but keep an eye on Mack for me anyway, okay?”
Sophie nodded. “I will.”
Jocelyn opened the driver’s side door, then turned to wave to the other woman. “I hope you find that cowboy. You deserve him. Although you might want to avoid Mrs. Crandle for the next few days. I heard her talking to my grandma, and she has high hopes of setting you up with her ‘nice grandson’.”
Sophie groaned and slapped her head to her forehead. “Thanks for the warning. Take care, Jocelyn. I hope you find what you’re hoping for.”
>
What was she hoping for? Certainly not this agony of feeling like she was leaving her heart in the caretaker’s cottage behind the house. Why was she working so hard to convince herself she wanted to leave, when her body was telling her in no uncertain terms that it didn’t want to go?
It didn’t matter now. Mack had already made his feelings clear. This job and the promotion were all she had now. She couldn’t screw them up too.
A flash of brown caught her eye, and she spied Savage trotting around the side of Gram’s house. He loped toward her, and she crouched to give him a hug. He licked her face as if he knew she was leaving. She swallowed as she stood and pointed to the house. “Go home, boy.”
The dog planted his bottom in the driveway and let out a mournful howl.
“Go home.”
The dog stood, but instead of leaving, he ran to the car and whined as he tried to climb into the front seat. Jocelyn grabbed his collar and pulled him back.
The pain of leaving the dog and the man and her grandmother ripped through her, and she choked back tears as she pleaded with the dog. “Please, buddy. No. I’m sorry, you can’t come with me.”
She implored Sophie to help her, and the other woman took hold of Savage’s collar and pulled him far enough out of the way for Jocelyn to get in the car.
The basset hound let out another sorrowful howl and wrenched at his collar as he tried to get back to her.
Sliding into the front seat, Jocelyn yanked the door shut. Slamming her hand in the door would have hurt less than this. She rendered the rental car guy a tearful glance. “It’s complicated.”
She put the car in gear and drove away, sneaking one last look at Harmony Ranch in the rearview mirror.
Chapter Nineteen
Three hours later, Jocelyn was sitting at a table in an upscale pizzeria on the 16th Street Mall in downtown Denver, as she waited to meet her new clients.
The drive to Denver had been long and full of traffic. Jocelyn’s thoughts had ping-ponged from the cars on the road to the heartbreak of losing Mack to the impending meeting with the coffee shop clients, Mike and Julia Carlson.
Trying to put thoughts of Mack, her grandmother, and all things Harmony Ranch out of her mind, she stopped to drop her things at her hotel and quickly freshen up. Even with the quick stop, she’d still made it to the restaurant early enough to secure a great table on the patio that delivered an amazing view of the mountains. In this world, it was all about looks and perception.
Which meant if she could paste a smile on her face and keep up a steady stream of witty conversation for the next several hours, she could give the illusion of being happy. Instead of letting them see that her heart was actually breaking on the inside, and she was terrified she’d just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to her.
A couple in their mid-forties walked up to the hostess, and Jocelyn stood and waved. She recognized them from the picture on their website, another place she had a ton of ideas to update. The woman waved back, and Jocelyn studied the couple as they made their way to the table.
Julia Carlson was dressed in jeans, a pale pink blouse, and a tailored blazer. She carried a designer handbag and wore a pair of flats that were meant to look casual, but would’ve carried a price tag close to one of Jocelyn’s entire paychecks. Her blonde hair was cut in a trendy chin-length bob, and when she’d spotted Jocelyn and waved, her smile was open and friendly.
Mike was more casual in a golf shirt, jeans and sneakers. His brown hair was thinning on top, and he had that soft in the middle dad bod thing going on. Jocelyn noticed the way he held the patio gate for his wife and tenderly put his hand on her back as they weaved between tables. His wore an easygoing smile, and Jocelyn liked the way he joked with the hostess as she pointed them in her direction.
“You must be Jocelyn,” Julia said, holding out her hand. “We’re so excited to meet you.”
“Thanks. Welcome to Colorado,” Jocelyn said as she shook hands first with Julia, then with Mike.
Mike pulled out the chair next to him for his wife, and then settled in a seat across from Jocelyn. His gaze went to a spot above her shoulder, and a goofy smile creased his face. “Wow. Great view. Don’t get me wrong. I love our view of the skyline from our apartment in New York, but this is awesome. We’re so excited to be in Colorado. We love the mountains.”
Score one for Jocelyn.
“I’m excited to meet you as well,” she told them. “I’ve got so many ideas to share with you.”
“We loved the campaign proposal you sent, so if they’re anything like those ideas, we can’t wait to hear them,” Mike said, picking up a menu.
The waitress came over to take their order and by the time the food arrived, Jocelyn and the Carlsons had already bonded and were laughing and getting along like old friends. She could already tell she was going to love working with them.
She was getting everything she’d been dreaming of—an exciting new project to be involved in, a promotion, a raise, and a chance to move out of the closet and get her own bedroom.
Too bad the only place she wanted to live was in a room with a view of these mountains.
Mack flinched as his thumb touched a hot part of the steel rod he’d just brought out of the fire. Dang. He needed to get his mind off a certain woman and focus on his work. He hadn’t burned himself on a rod in forever.
It was after dinner, and he’d been crabby all day. The only place he’d been able to find solace was the blacksmith shop, and he’d been out here the last hour working on more candleholders for the luminaries.
He pounded the rod with a hammer, taking out his frustration as he flattened the steel and twisted it to his will. Too bad he couldn’t twist people to his will as easily.
He spotted the project he’d been working on the day before. The stupid hearts.
As a gift for Jocelyn, he’d taken several of the hearts he’d made and had been forging them together in a unique design. It was his way of showing her how she’d helped to put the pieces of his broken heart back together. At the time he’d started it, it had seemed romantic and special. Now it just seemed sappy and stupid.
He grabbed the heart project and tossed it on the anvil. He didn’t even bother with sticking them in the fire, he just lifted the sledgehammer and started smashing them to bits—just like what Jocelyn had done to his heart.
How could he have been such a fool?
She’d left him. Again.
Just. Strike. Like. Hit. He. Slam. Knew. Smash. She. Blow. Would.
He drove the hammer into the anvil. Again and again. Pieces of the hearts, already smashed and broken, scattered and shot across the floor.
It didn’t matter. He was hitting the anvil now, just for the jolt of pain it caused to shoot up his arms and across his shoulders. Sweat poured off him, and his muscles burned as each strike hit harder than the one before.
He didn’t care. If his body hurt and his muscles ached then maybe he wouldn’t notice how much his heart did.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he considered ignoring it as he struck the anvil again.
He dropped the sledgehammer. His traitorous body wanting to check the phone, his pulse quickening at the thought it could be Jocelyn. What if she was calling to say she was wrong and headed back to the ranch right now? He huffed out a laugh as he pulled his phone free.
Jocelyn admitting she was wrong? That would be the day.
He didn’t recognize the number or the area code. Probably a telemarketer. But it could be a vendor or something to do with the event. He tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear as he barked out a hello.
“Yeah, hi. This is Chase Dalton. I’m looking for Mack Talbot.”
“You got him,” Mack answered offhandedly as he kicked a broken piece of the hearts across the floor. He almost hung up, figuring the use of his full name had to signal a
sales call. Then the caller’s name hit him. “Wait. Who did you say this was again?”
“Chase Dalton.”
“Yeah, right, Floyd. I’m not falling for that trick again. Didn’t you call me claiming to be the Colorado Lottery office a few weeks ago?”
“Sorry, I’m not sure who this Floyd fella is, but this really is Chase Dalton. And I heard you were having a benefit concert tomorrow night.”
Okay, he’d play along with the gag. Just to see what this guy was really after. “Yeah, we are.”
“Well, I was calling to offer y’all my help. I used to visit Harmony Ranch when I was a kid. I have great memories of the place, and I’d hate to see it get shut down. I’m heading through Colorado this weekend anyway, and I’d love to add my support. Do you think it might help if I came up on stage to do a short set or sing a couple songs?”
Mack pulled the phone away from his ear to check the number again. Holy cow. He couldn’t believe it. “Is this really Chase Dalton?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mack’s legs felt a little wobbly. He sank down onto the old trunk next to his workbench. “That sounds mighty nice of you, but we’re just a small outfit. We wouldn’t be able to afford to have you sing even half of a song, let alone a short set.”
“Oh no, I’m not asking to be paid. It would be my privilege to help out the ranch. Now, I gotta tell you though, it’s just me. I don’t have the band with me. But I’ve got my guitar, and I’d be happy to play a few songs.”
Mack swallowed. An impromptu acoustic performance by Chase Dalton? Yeah, he could get behind that idea. “That would be amazing. But why? Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with any of my music, but I have this one song, My Heart is Your Home, and it’s about your roots and the things that are important that define your home.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with the song. In fact, I heard you play it at the Harmony County Fair about ten years ago.”
“Seriously? You can’t see it, but I’m cringing over here.”