Her Texan to Tame

by Sara Orwig

  “I hope not. That’s her doing. I’ve told her to call me Ryan, but she insists. Her husband calls me Ryan, but Gwen won’t. I’m not going to argue the point. They’ve worked for me several years now, but they’ve also worked for my older brother Adam, so they’ve known me for years.”

  “And thank you for the compliment.” He received another smile that revealed her dimple.

  “C’mon. Sit with me and have a drink. If you get uncomfortable, we’ll come in and have dinner. Deal?”

  “Sure, Ryan.” Even hearing her say his name was as tangible as physical contact and stirred desire. He was having a strong reaction to her and he was digging himself in deeper every second by letting her stay, by asking her to have a drink with him. Was he on a track to seduction and reluctant to face up to his own motives? Guilt assailed him because Jessica was emotionally vulnerable. Surely he had no intention of taking advantage of her...but she was damned difficult to resist.

  “What would you like? I’ll get drinks,” he said, his voice going husky again, a telltale sign of his desire.

  “I think I’ll have iced tea. I’ve already made a pitcher.”

  “Tea for you, a cold beer for me.”

  “I set the table inside, but I can move things to the patio, if you prefer,” she said as he got ice and then poured tea from a pitcher sitting on the counter.

  “No, we’ll eat indoors.” Walking farther into the kitchen, he saw the table, set and ready.

  “Very nice. Here’s your tea,” he said, handing her the drink and touching her slender fingers as she took the glass—another slight touch that heightened attraction. He was amazed that he had such an intense reaction to so many insignificant brushes with her.

  He got his beer and held the door for her to go outside. It was a cool June evening with no wind stirring. She sat facing the formal garden and he pulled a chair close to hers. The full skirt of her dress hid her legs almost to her slender ankles.

  He raised his bottle to her. “Welcome to Texas. May you like your stay.”

  Smiling, she touched his bottle with her glass lightly and sipped her tea before setting her drink on a small table beside her chair.

  “I’ll admit I hope you hire me, because I think this is what I’m looking for. This is a perfect place for me to heal, to get over my divorce. If you don’t hire me, though, I understand, and I’ll head north, maybe to Montana or Wyoming.”

  “I don’t think you have to plan on driving to Montana or Wyoming. We’ll work out something. I talked to Brad and Pru. You come highly recommended,” he said, fighting the temptation to move his chair closer. He wanted to flirt with her, ask her out, kiss her. Seduce her. Instead, he had to be polite, distant, professional. Only friendly, nothing more. He suspected she would be a daily torment working for him because he would constantly be fighting himself. Even knowing that, he couldn’t turn her away. One look at her and he wanted her to stay.

  “They’re close friends, particularly Pru, so of course they would give me a good recommendation. The best references as far as my work will be the ones I listed and gave to you today because those are people I’ve worked with on volunteer projects. Those and two names I have from the cooking school I attended. I enclosed letters they’ve written for me.”

  “I haven’t read all your information yet,” he admitted. “When I saw you were single, I didn’t think there would be a chance I would hire you.”

  “Thanks for giving me a chance,” she said, with another dimpled smile that made him want to do anything she asked.

  “You’re persuasive,” he said. “I doubt if many men have said no to you.”

  “As a matter of fact, they haven’t,” she said with a twinkle in her big blue eyes. “So tell me more about your family. I suppose if I work here, I’ll meet them at some point.”

  “They’re in Dallas and yes, you will. I’ve told you we lost Adam. He had a little girl, Caroline. Will is her guardian and Ava, Will’s wife, is far more of a mother than her birth mother, who walked out on them early.”

  “Walked out? That’s dreadful,” she said, looking upset for the first time. “How could a mother walk out on her baby?”

  “She never had any interest in Caroline. Still doesn’t. Actually, if something were to happen to Will and Ava, I’m in the will to be appointed Will’s children’s guardian. I can’t imagine being Daddy.”

  “Why not? You’re kind, cheerful, intelligent.”

  “Thanks,” he said, grinning. “Will has done a wonderful job caring for Caroline and so has Ava. She went through some tough times and Ava helped bring her out of her shell and get over her hurt.”

  “That’s sad, for a little child to be hurt. I’m glad it’s worked out for her.”

  “She has a little brother, Adam, now. He is a cute baby and Caroline is a doll. Both happy, fun kids, which is the way it should be.” He took a long pull from his beer, then placed it back on the table. “Where do your sister and your banker, accountant and attorney brothers live?”

  “They’re all in Memphis, not far from our parents. I’m the one rocking the boat. My sister and my brothers are all married—each has two kids. My sister has two boys. Each of my brothers has a son and a daughter. I have delightful nieces and nephews and I miss them a lot.”

  Her voice was wistful, reminding him of her loss and the fragile side to her. One more reminder to avoid flirting with her or crossing the line any more than he already had.

  “Are you close with your siblings?”

  “I’m close to my sister and close to my youngest brother, Jason. I guess because of our ages. He’s five years older than I am. Derek is eight years older, Lydia is ten years older and Dillon is twelve years older. Dillon and I have gotten to know each other a little better since we’re grown, but we’re not close. What’s worse, he’s friends with Carlton. So is Lydia’s husband, Frank.”

  “How did you get interested in cooking?” he asked her. He was curious about her but truthfully, he enjoyed sitting with her and wanted to keep her talking. His chair was turned enough that he could watch her, gaze into her blue eyes and get an occasional whiff of her perfume. She smelled wonderful and he could look at her all evening. He could listen to her, too. Her voice was perfect—neither too high-pitched nor too low.

  “We had a woman who cooked and cleaned for us. Her name was Sandy and she would let me help when I was little and then she taught me how to do things on my own. She was a wonderful cook. People wanted to hire her away from us occasionally, but she stayed with us. I still keep up with her and go see her. She’s elderly now and my dad helped her get some investments and a savings plan, so she’s comfortable. Dad put a down payment on a house for her about fifteen years before she finally quit work and she paid off the mortgage before she quit. I’ve called her since I left home and she knows I left and will stay somewhere else for a while and she knows why. I’m really close to her. She was like another mother to me.”

  “That’s nice you’ve stayed close. And nice you didn’t burden her with telling her where you are, although you might be better off if someone knows.”

  “Oh, several people know where I am. I keep in touch with Mom. She doesn’t know specifics, but she knows enough. My sister knows where I am and what I’m doing. We text daily. I have a close Memphis friend—Olivia—who knows. She won’t even speak to Carlton. My parents won’t bother asking her about me, because they’ll know she won’t tell them.

  “Olivia and Carlton move in the same circles and she’ll let me know when he’s seeing somebody else, which he should be doing by now. Then he’ll be far less interested in finding me. He knows I’m not going back. Our divorce was final a year ago. I left him five months before that.” She paused and gave him a solemn look that startled him. “Before I left him, I miscarried and lost a baby. I was in the second month of pregnancy.” She looked away
, but not before he saw her eyes fill with tears.

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Even though the doctor said I can still have babies, I can’t seem to get over it,” she whispered. He barely heard her and saw her hands locked together in her lap. His sympathy went out to her. He thought of Caroline and Adam, and Zach’s little girl—how adorable they were—and felt a stab of sadness for her loss. Impulsively, he reached over to pat her hands.

  She wiped her eyes and inhaled, finally turning to face him as she stood.

  “Thank you. I think I should go look at dinner and get it on the table. I don’t want it to get dried out.”

  “I’ll help,” he said, standing with her and walking back. She was tall for a woman, but not as tall as he was.

  “Please have a seat and I’ll get dinner on while you finish your beer.”

  “I can help. Do you want more tea?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, hurrying to get things out. He helped and was pleasantly surprised with each dish she pulled out of the warming oven or the stove. Everything looked appetizing.

  In minutes they were seated, overlooking a platter with chunks of tender beef. There was steaming brown gravy in a white gravy boat with a silver ladle. She had made fluffy mashed potatoes and steamed collard greens. She had found a jar of peppers for the greens. And they had salad plates for a tossed green salad.

  The moment he took a bite of roast, there was no question she had the job. The tender meat was the best ever. So was the dark brown gravy. A timer dinged and she left to return with huge fluffy rolls that astounded him.

  “I don’t recall these being in my freezer.”

  “They weren’t in your freezer. I made them today.”

  “You really can cook,” he said, staring at her and thinking her ex had to be unhinged to treat her so badly. She was every man’s dream.

  “So what does that mean?” she asked, slanting him a curious look.

  What it meant was that he was doomed. He had to hire her and he had to stay professional, remote, keep his hands to himself and his conversation impersonal. Now that he knew about the loss of her baby, it was even more important to leave her alone to let her heal.

  “It means you have a job as my cook if you want it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, giving him one of her radiant smiles, which turned his insides to jelly and killed all appetite for dinner. He needed to pack and get back to Houston sooner than he had planned because staying around here was going to be an incredible challenge.

  “We should discuss a menu for the coming week. I don’t really know what you like. What would you like in the morning?”

  The answer that instantly came to mind could not be said. He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. She was sexy, hot, the most beautiful woman he had met, and he couldn’t do one thing about it. He did not want to hurt her and she looked like the very earnest kind, not one for an affair that would be done and forgotten swiftly.

  “You’re talking about breakfast,” he said, unable to hold back that much.

  She blinked and he saw understanding dawn as her cheeks flushed. “I definitely mean breakfast,” she said briskly, but there was a breathless note to her voice now that added to his climbing temperature. “Orange juice? Tomato juice? Eggs, pancakes, what?”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. It was impossible to decide what he wanted for breakfast. He looked down at his plate, drinking his iced tea, trying to get his thoughts elsewhere and cool down. “After dinner we’ll make a grocery list and Saturday I’ll go into town with you to the store.”

  They ate in silence while he tried to cool his libido and stop thinking about how he’d enjoy flirting with her. As he took a few tentative bites and tried to get her out of his thoughts and avoid looking at her, his appetite began to return. Jeb was going to be speechless the first time he ate her cooking.

  “What kind of restaurant do you want to have?” Ryan asked, finally risking a look at her.

  “Just American. That’s what I know. I had it all planned. I dreamed about it during college, but then when I married I had to give it up.” She took a bite of the beef, and the gravy lingered on her lip, drawing his eyes.

  “Now I want to live and work in Nashville,” she continued as she wiped her mouth. “That’s close enough to home and family, but not too close. It gets me out of Memphis society, which is great. It gets me away from running into my ex a lot. I love Tennessee with all my heart. It’s the most beautiful state—the Smoky Mountains, Chattanooga, the little towns, the cities, Nashville is wonderful with bluegrass and country music, Centennial Park, the beautiful Southern homes and gardens, the best food ever. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I guess you feel that way about Texas, so you should understand.”

  “Actually, it’s the ranch I feel that way about. This is the place where my heart is. I can’t imagine leaving it. This is my idea of paradise.”

  “See? You wouldn’t want Nashville. I wouldn’t want here, not for a lifetime, but for now, this place is perfect.”

  “Speaking of this place and your new job—I prefer breakfast about six a.m.” As he looked at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the moment was surreal. Instead of flirting, laughing with her, getting closer—what he really wanted to do—he was telling her breakfast at 6:00 a.m. And she was nodding as if she was totally happy with their arrangement.

  “Six is fine. I’ll have everything ready.”

  “Like I said, you can select that menu. I don’t care to plan meals.” At the moment he didn’t care what she made. He was far more interested in spending time with her than what she was going to cook for him.

  “If I select the menu, that makes this job easy.”

  “I’m an easy guy,” he answered. “I’m not a vegan, not on a restricted diet and when I want a steak, I’ll tell you and I’ll grill it. Otherwise, it’s up to you.”

  “Fine. Just like tonight, more or less?”

  “Right,” he said, gazing into her wide blue eyes while she listened. He realized he was going to feel silly eating alone with her waiting on him or hanging out in the kitchen. “Jessica, this is a slightly different situation than I’ve ever had. You’re different from other cooks I’ve had.”

  She gazed solemnly at him except for a faint lift of the corner of her mouth.

  “So just plan on eating with me. Okay? I can’t see myself sitting here eating alone and you waiting on me and watching me eat,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

  “You don’t have to eat with me. I can disappear or ignore you or whatever you want,” she protested.

  “I want you to eat with me,” he said, complicating his life once again. From the moment her red car had pulled to a stop and she had stepped out, his life had been spinning into a strange new orbit. Eating every meal with her and still not flirting would be another horrendous challenge. Right now he wanted to forget this somber conversation and have some fun with her. And he could well imagine there were moments when she could be a lot of fun. He ached to ask her to go dancing.

  “You’ll get tired of seeing me.”

  “Jessica, I wouldn’t get tired of seeing you even if we ate every meal together until you quit this job,” he said, the words tumbling out in spite of his intentions.

  She laughed softly. “Yes, you will, but if that’s what you want, you’re the employer.”

  “It’s not a job requirement,” he answered, wondering what her feelings were. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

  “We’ll start out that way. You said you’re not here much of the time, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” she stated casually, as if the whole matter were insignificant to her and she had no physical reaction to him.

  “Now, what happens when you’re away? Does my job go away? Do I find another job?” she asked.
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  “No. I pay the people who work for me whether I’m here or not. I couldn’t keep anyone if I didn’t.”

  “Everyone else has work to do whether you’re here or not. I don’t. Can I help with the cleaning or something while you’re away?”

  “That’s just the problem about having a cook. I can’t think of anything else for you to do unless I have staff working here at the house. Otherwise, they eat at the bunkhouse. Gwen probably won’t let you cook for her and will do her own. You can ask. They’ll let you know if they’ll be here to eat. Gwen cleans, so I don’t need you doing that unless you want to help her, but she probably won’t let you help clean either. Do what you want when you have the chance.”

  “What about the little town where I get groceries? Is there anything going on there where they would need a volunteer to help?”

  “I’ll ask around and see.” Having had his fill of the meal, he sat back and put down his napkin. “That was a delicious dinner and you’re a fine cook.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

  “C’mon. I’ll show you around the house. I can give you a small map of the ranch because it can be confusing when it’s all new to you. As for the house, we’ll just look at the downstairs now because that’s where you’ll be.”

  When they entered the dining room, she glanced around. “This is a beautiful room. If my mother could see this, she would probably stop worrying about me. You have beautiful things,” she said, looking at two tall crystal candelabra on an Edwardian buffet. The dining room table could seat twenty and she wondered when he had such elegant parties.

  She wandered around the formal room, looking at beautiful china and sparkling etched crystal in his fruitwood china cabinet.

  They moved on to a large room that had to be the most occupied room next to the kitchen and the living area there.

  The large family room overlooked the patio and pool. It held a big-screen television, a stone fireplace flanked by bookshelves, family pictures on the walls, comfortable leather furniture. She circled the room and paused in front of a picture box with a large gilt frame. Inside, against black velvet, was what she guessed was an antique pistol. Ryan came to stand beside her.