He lowered the bowl into her hands. His fingers, warm and a little rough, brushed over her knuckles, and she shivered. She barely remembered what she’d intended to ask. And she could not remember the last time she’d felt like this—palms damp, heart racing, her skin deliciously sensitive.
Get a grip, Bailey. The man handed you a bowl. He didn’t undress you.
His eyes were molten silver. “Anything else I can do for you, darlin’?”
“I, um...” Kiss me. Not that she would ever voice such an insane request. Kissing Jarrett was completely out of the question.
Except, it didn’t feel out of the question. He was watching her so intently, as if he could see her thoughts, and he was standing close enough his breath feathered over her skin. In that heartbeat, kissing him would be as natural as—
“Sierra?” Vicki’s voice in the background was impatient. “We planning to eat before the food gets cold?”
Jarrett jerked away from her so abruptly she almost dropped the bowl he’d handed her. She’d missed her chance to ask him if it was all right that she’d asked Will to dinner, but, really, what would she do if he said no? Rescind the invitation and kick out the family friend?
It’s too late, Bailey. Might as well go with it.
But that advice applied only to their dinner guest. Not her attraction to her boss.
* * *
“WELL, THAT WAS an embarrassing display,” Vicki said from behind her.
Sierra stiffened at the sink where she was washing dinner dishes. Now that Will had gone, was Jarrett’s sister finally speaking her mind about the moment earlier when it had taken far too long for one adult to hand another one a bowl? Had Sierra’s riotous feelings been visible to everyone in the room?
Battling a hot rush of mortification, Sierra turned to face her patient. Should she go with flat denial, or deem it a temporary lapse in judgment that would never happen again? But once she’d spun around, Sierra saw that Vicki hadn’t even been speaking to her. She was addressing Jarrett, who’d returned from seeing Will out.
He scowled down at his sister. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” Vicki scoffed. “You’re thick-skulled, but you’ve got to have some self-awareness. You spent all of dinner practically snarling at one of your best friends. Honestly, Sierra’s a grown woman. If she wants to go out with Will, she can.”
Go out with Will? Sierra blinked. He’d told her to save him a dance at the Harvest Day Festival, but she got the impression he said that to a lot of ladies. It had been an offhand comment, not a declaration of courtship.
“Sierra’s going to be here for the better part of a month,” Vicki said. “Are you planning to be a butthead every time some guy comes sniffing around her?”
“Hey!” Sierra objected to the “sniffing around,” which made her sound like a dog’s chew toy.
Neither sibling looked her way.
“Why would I care who Sierra goes out with in her free time?” Jarrett demanded. “We’ve covered this before. You know I don’t think of her as a woman.”
“Hey!”
This time, her indignation registered. Both Rosses turned to face her, looking almost surprised by her presence.
“Do you people mind not discussing my love life like I’m not even here? Actually,” she backtracked, “I’d prefer you don’t discuss it at all. It’s none of your damn business.”
“Exactly my point,” Vicki said smugly. With that parting shot, she wheeled herself from the room.
The last thing Sierra wanted was to be left alone with Jarrett after his humiliating announcement that he barely saw her as a woman. Embarrassment stung her cheeks. Had she misread that moment earlier, the way he’d looked at her? What does it matter if you did? She’d already vowed that she would keep her hands to herself—anything else would be foolhardy and unprofessional. Jarrett’s dismissive tone made it easier to squash temptation. He’d done her a favor, really. She sure as hell didn’t want to kiss him now.
What she wanted to do was storm out of the room, but the dishes weren’t finished. She refused to look as if she was fleeing his presence. Sierra Bailey didn’t flee. Instead, she plunged her hands into the soapy water, hoping that if she ignored Jarrett, he’d leave.
“I should apologize for my sister,” he began stiffly.
“You should apologize for yourself.” She scrubbed a plate with vicious force. “Not a woman?”
“Don’t take it personally. All I meant is that I don’t have any romantic interest in you.”
She flinched at the bald rejection, not turning around as he stepped closer and grabbed the dish towel from the counter.
“And you shouldn’t have any interest in me, either,” he said.
“Oh, trust me...” She shot him a withering look over her shoulder.
Standing entirely too close for her peace of mind, he started drying the dishes she’d already washed. Damn it, he still smelled good, although she hated herself for noticing. She wanted to snap at him that she didn’t need his help, but it wasn’t as if she could kick the man out of his own kitchen. Nor could she break a plate over his head, but the mental image was heartening.
He took a deep breath. “I won’t try to stop you if you want to date Will Trent—”
“That is so generous of you,” she gushed, her eyes wide. “Letting me make my very own grown-up decisions about my own life!”
He clenched his jaw. “As the person who introduced the two of you, I feel like it’s my responsibility to let you know he’s just looking for a good time. Will’s a decent guy, but he won’t offer any kind of commitment.”
“Commitment?” Did the deluded man think she was hoping to find the future Mr. Sierra Bailey during the next two and a half weeks? She slammed down a plastic cup in the drying rack. “Women aren’t always hunting for husbands, you know. Sometimes, all we want is a good time. And, for your information, I’m not naive.” Will Trent was a charmer, but he seemed like a player, the kind of guy who called every other woman “Gorgeous” because he couldn’t remember her name.
Sierra had made it her entire adult life without having her heart broken. She could manage just fine without Jarrett Ross’s condescending guidance.
“I never called you naive. Don’t put words in my mouth! God, you’re—”
“I’m what?” she pressed. It was a bad idea to bait him after he’d had the good sense to censor himself, but she was too angry to care.
Exhaling a puff of air, he stared upward as if silently praying for patience. “Stubborn. Sarcastic. Infuriating.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But you are a grown woman. I’m sorry I said anything about your personal life in the first place. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” At least he’d admitted she was a woman. Theoretically, she’d won their argument.
But the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach and the impotent wish she could have a do-over of the whole conversation didn’t feel like victory.
* * *
“YOU SHOULD TRY these on!” The boutique owner, Jasmine Tucker, handed Sierra a pair of emerald-green slacks. “I know they’re a little outlandish, but with your coloring...”
Sierra humored her, adding the slacks to the selection she had draped over her arm. “I’m not really here shopping for me,” she said, more as a reminder to herself than to dissuade Jazz. The clothes were great, but since Sierra had no idea where her next paycheck was coming from after this job... “I’m just Vicki’s chauffeur.”
The young woman was already in a fitting room; she’d stubbornly waved away Sierra’s assistance. Changing clothes in such a confined space couldn’t be easy, but Sierra respected Vicki’s drive to be self-sufficient.
“Well, if you find something you love,” Jazz said, lowering her voice to a con
fidential whisper, “I’ve been known to give some pretty sweet discounts.” She sighed. “I’m never going to break any retail profit records. I love sending people home with new outfits too much. I can’t help it! I had sisters and was always stuck with hand-me-downs, so new clothes are— Ooh, this dress would look great on you, too!”
Sierra chuckled, the exchange surreal. “I can’t believe I’m getting personalized fashion advice from the supermodel whose face used to look up at me from magazines in the waiting room.”
“Ha! I was never anywhere close to supermodel status,” Jazz demurred. “But thank you.”
“Do you ever miss it?” Sierra asked. “Life in New York? Cupid’s Bow must be so...quiet in comparison.”
“Yes, thank heavens. There’s a lot I enjoyed about New York—Broadway shows, great little restaurants with funky, unexpected menus—but my life there was exhausting. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath for four years straight. Coming home was such a relief. I know Cupid’s Bow is small, but it isn’t boring. The people here are much too interesting for that.”
Good point. Sierra thought of some of the people she’d met—nosy octogenarian Miss Alma, Becca Johnston with her take-charge superpower, a former New York fashion model. Jarrett Ross. He certainly wasn’t boring. Unpredictable, frustrating and moody, perhaps. But not boring.
When she’d come downstairs this morning, she’d found a bud vase with fresh-cut flowers where she normally sat at the table. Next to it was a napkin with the words I’m sorry scrawled across it in pen. She hadn’t seen him, though, to tell him she was no longer angry about yesterday’s botched exchange. How could she be? In his own misguided way, he’d genuinely been trying to look out for her, as a friend.
Maybe that’s what upset you. While she recognized intellectually that it was best for them to only be platonic friends, it was somewhat ego-deflating to discover that the pull of attraction was one-sided.
“You know what?” she asked Jazz. “Maybe I will splurge on something new.” Finding something that made her feel good about herself would be a nice boost.
She opened the door of a dressing room and stepped inside. A fun new purchase would be the icing on what had turned out to be a pretty great day. They’d started the day at the hospital so that Vicki could meet with her official physical therapist. Sierra had wondered if the man would resent her intrusion or question her methods, but Manuel had been thrilled to meet her. He’d invited her to take part in the session, helping to stretch Vicki’s muscles and act as cheerleader when she stood from the wheelchair. She couldn’t do it for long, and every single time, she broke out into a sweat almost immediately, teeth gritted as determination warred with exertion. Still, standing was a major milestone. Steps would come with time.
After PT, they’d had lunch at a quaint little deli and gone by the salon where Vicki got her hair cut into sassy new layers. Sierra had contemplated a change of style, too, but ultimately declined.
“You don’t really need a new style,” Vicki had said. “You’re reasonably hot—for a woman pushing thirty.”
“I just remembered we need to stop by the grocery store on the way home. I need to pick up some liver.”
Grinning at the memory of Vicki’s horrified expression, Sierra tried on a dress that was a rainbow of scarves and bandannas stitched together. Pretty. Was it casual enough for the Harvest Day Festival, or would she stick out like an overdressed thumb? She exchanged it for another outfit. The pants were so long on her they were laughable. Being petite was one of the reasons she wore so many skirts. It was difficult to find pants the right size, and she hated to bother with the hassle of hemming or custom tailoring.
When she was finished, she took the colorful scarf dress and met Vicki at the cash register. The girl looked excited about her new purchase—and showing it off for Aaron this weekend—but fatigue was beginning to shadow her face. It had been a busy day. Sierra expected her passenger to fall asleep in the car on the way back to the ranch.
But Vicki surprised her by wanting to talk. “Sierra? I’m...sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. After Will left. I just thought it was ridiculous how my brother was acting all jealous and possessive.”
Jealous? Her ego tried to cling to the word. Jarrett couldn’t be jealous over her unless he was attracted to her, right?
She sternly reminded herself that attraction was a complication neither of them needed. “I don’t think it was so much jealousy as protectiveness. He sees me, temporarily, as part of his household and wanted to warn me that Will is a ladies’ man.”
Vicki mumbled something while looking at her window. The only words Sierra caught were “pot” and “kettle.”
“But as a general rule,” Sierra continued, “if you want to avoid making someone uncomfortable, maybe don’t speculate on her love life? If I were to go out with Will Trent or anyone else, the idea of you and Jarrett sitting around the table and dissecting my date is a little...”
“Invasive?”
“Ooky.”
Vicki laughed. “Right. I think I remember that word from the vocab section on my SATs. You’re a real genius, Sierra.”
“Yep. That’s why your family pays me the big bucks.”
* * *
SIERRA KEPT DINNER comparatively simple Thursday—salads topped with strips of steak. If the meal turned out to be awkward after last night’s argument with Jarrett, at least there wouldn’t be many dishes to clean. Three large salad bowls and, boom, she could escape upstairs with a good book.
But judging from the sheepish glance he gave her when he appeared for supper, their confrontation was well behind them.
“Hey.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Vicki in her room?”
“Skyping with a sorority sister about the latest pledges chosen to join. She said to let her know when it’s time to eat.”
“You, ah, saw my note this morning?”
Her lips twitched. “The napkin apology?”
A slow grin spread across his face. It was like watching sunrise. “Double-ply. When you care enough to leave the very best.”
She laughed. “For the record, I’m sorry, too. I’m all the things you accused me of—stubborn, sarcastic. God knows my own family thinks so.”
“You don’t talk about them much.” He pulled salad dressings out of the refrigerator. “They’re in Texas, right?”
“Houston.” Which felt like a different galaxy than Cupid’s Bow. “I’ve got three brothers, one of whom is getting married in December.”
“Your parents must be so proud of you.”
“Um...possibly?”
His eyebrows shot up. “How could they not be?”
“I’m sure they are, in their own domineering, ‘this-isn’t-the-life-we-would-have-chosen-for-you’ kind of way. After three boys, Mom was really excited to have a daughter. Based on baby photos, I don’t think I wore anything but pink for the first year of my life.”
He eyed the vintage T-shirt she was wearing with a black skirt and boots. “I can’t quite picture that.”
“You’ll have to take my word for it. Total pampered princess.”
“What happened?”
“My fall. It made Mom and Dad see me as more fragile than ever, but it had the opposite effect on me. Once I stopped feeling sorry for myself, recovering from that injury made me realize for the first time how strong I could be. We butted heads a lot during my teen years.” She rinsed the cutting board in the sink. “I can’t imagine doing what you do—working with your family on a daily basis, living with your folks.”
“I don’t plan to live in this house forever.” Was his tone a touch defensive? “There’s a bunkhouse over the hill that I’m moving into. After some remodeling.”
“I wasn’t judging you,” she promised. “They’re lucky you’re here to hel
p with the ranch and with Vicki.”
At his sister’s name, his expression grew shuttered. “The luck I bring isn’t always good.”
In moments like these, he looked so sad. “Jarrett, I...”
He turned away from her. “I’ll let Vicki know dinner’s ready.”
Whatever words of comfort she might have found, he obviously didn’t want to hear them.
* * *
VICKI WAS IN the middle of telling Jarrett all about their day in town when she suddenly gestured with her fork, stabbing it across the table toward Sierra. “Hey, I just remembered what I wanted to ask you about on the drive home! During one of my first sessions with Manuel, he gave me some big pep talk and mentioned that it was possible for patients to ride a horse even if they couldn’t walk yet. Is that true?”
Sierra choked on a bite of steak. Oh, why couldn’t Vicki have asked about aquatic therapy instead? Cupid’s Bow was rumored to have a spectacular community pool. Coughing, she reached for her glass of ice water. “Yes, it’s true.” Horseback riding aided in strengthening the leg muscles; plus, the motion mimicked the sensation of walking, helping the body relearn.
Vicki brightened. “How soon can we do that?”
“Um... That might be more up Manuel’s alley than mine,” Sierra admitted. “Any idea if he makes house calls? I don’t... I can’t really—”
“Sierra doesn’t ride anymore,” Jarrett said. “But Cupid’s Bow is full of people who know horses. We can find someone to help get you back in the saddle, Vic. But we will need a trained therapist to supervise the process. Sierra, would you be able to manage that?” From his gentle tone, it was obvious he understood how much she dreaded being around horses.
Falling for the Rancher Page 9