She’d never done anything like this before in her entire life. Heck she’d never even held down a job for longer than a few months. Even though her degree from UNLV had been in business, she found that she was miserable at it out in the real world. Being cooped up in an office drove her crazy, and she’d have to slip outside, even when the temperature hit over one-hundred, just to breathe in some fresh air and see the sky.
Of course, that kind of behavior had gotten her fired from two jobs, and laid off from another. What little savings she’d managed to put together quickly disappeared. Now her money came from her parents . . . not that she didn’t try to somehow repay them for their generosity, she did. She planned and booked the trip they were on, and ran errands for them, shopped for groceries, and even cooked for them a few times a week.
Her dad was a craps dealer and her mom, a twenty-one dealer, and both of them had the same passion for bowling.
She had to admit that at twenty-seven years old she was pathetic. Some of her fellow classmates already owned companies, had made their first million, or had gotten married and had produced a child or two. Even Riley, who insisted on living out in rural Montana, wrote romance novels about cowboys, which had always been her friend’s passion. Her most recent release, A Cowboy Christmas, had even hit the USA Today Bestsellers List back in November. And she owned her own little house, and was dating Ben Karson, a local rancher. Plus, from the way she seemed to know just about everyone in the store, she had a lot of friends.
Clearly Riley’s life was on the right track, as opposed to Jolie’s.
Not only didn’t Jolie have a job, but her last boyfriend was a lying cheat, she had virtually no other friends but Riley, and worst of all, she wasn’t passionate about anything.
Nothing.
Nada.
If it wasn’t for her parents’ generosity she’d be homeless and pointless. Truth be told, it had been her mom’s coaxing that had convinced her to not sit home, alone, this Christmas. If not for her mom’s insistence, she wouldn’t be standing next to gorgeous, hunky cowboy Red, trying to figure out how to participate in granting a Christmas wish to a very special child. Clearly the child knew her own heart and possessed a passion for riding, two traits Jolie greatly admired. And this child was only twelve years old!
“Okay, so I’ll expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning to slop those pigs? May as well get right to it,” Red told her with some seriousness to his voice. Now that Santa was gone, and the reality of her ‘job’ stood in front of her, she wasn’t quite so sure she would be able to handle it, especially the time part.
“Define bright and early.”
“I’ll give you a break. How about five o’clock?”
“In the morning?” Jolie’s voice cracked, and she took a step back. She hadn’t seen five o’clock since . . . well . . . ever. “Is the sun even up at that time?”
“Barely, but the pigs are.”
Jolie sighed, resigned to her fate. She could do this. “Sure. Five it is. Where do you live?”
“Out a ways. Riley can give you all the details. Right now, I have to get back to the ranch and check on the livestock. Looking forward to working with you, Jolie Shepard. See you in the morning.”
Then he tipped his hat, and sashayed away holding her warm coat over his arm, passing Riley as she approached, beaming up at him as they exchanged howdy’s or whatever cowboys and cowgirls said to one another in passing.
“Wow, girl, that cowboy had a grin on his face like he’d just won a National Rodeo Championship. What did you say to him?”
“It’s a long story. But right now I need a warm coat, work gloves, sturdy jeans and do you know if they carry pig slop rubber boots in this store?”
“They carry everything but what on earth are you going to do with rubber boots?”
For the next half-hour, while the two women shopped for the essentials to keep Jolie warm out on the Montana open range, she tried to recount all that had transpired between herself and hunky cowboy Red, given that half the time was spent fantasizing about his touch. When she finally relayed all the facts, they were back in Riley’s cold truck with everything Jolie needed, including a warm parka that Jolie wore along with black rubber boots over a pair of heavy wool socks, heading to Riley’s cabin.
Riley seemed to have a hard time believing that Jolie had bartered for riding lessons with the town’s most eligible, but completely unattainable bachelor, Red Wiseman.
“For one thing,” Riley told her as she pulled the truck into the driveway of a log-cabin type, two-story house, which was bigger than the pictures had alluded to. “As far as I know, Red Wiseman doesn’t own any pigs, but I could be wrong. He’s strictly a horse rancher. And if you knew anything about pigs, you would know that slopping the pigs refers to feeding them. I know it sounds like it has something to do with mud or pig dung, but it doesn’t.”
“Then why would he tell me I have to be there at five in the morning to slop the pigs?”
“Because along with him being the catch of the county, Red has a biting sense of humor and I think he’s just trying to scare you . . . to see what kind of grit you have.”
“Grit? Like in the movie True Grit?”
“Exactly.”
Jolie flashed on the movie… a young girl avenging her family…looking for justice…not afraid of anything or anybody. Letting nothing stand in her way.
Oh yeah, Jolie had grit, especially when it came to granting a wish for little Holly Lowe.
“I’m loaded with grit,” she said, pushing her shoulders back, feeling the confidence surge through her veins. “Grit is my middle name. I’ve got so much grit, I pee sand.”
Riley burst out laughing. “That’s the Jolie Shepard I know and love. Exactly the kind of woman who can deal with Red Wiseman. You’ve got this, girlfriend.”
“You’re darn tootin’ I do!” She hesitated for a moment. “Is that still a viable expression?”
“It works.”
“Okay then, I’m ready.”
But deep down inside, Jolie knew her grit was paper thin, and the whole thing scared her more than she wanted to admit, but no way was she about to let anyone know the truth. Especially not Red Wiseman, the absolute sexiest cowboy she’d ever met this side of a movie screen.
~~*~~
Red awoke at four the next morning in a cold sweat, sat up and tried to calm his thumping heart.
“What the hell are you doing, bucko?” he asked out loud as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the multi-colored rag rug his mom had made as a wedding present for a marriage that never had taken place.
For the past two years, he’d been so successful at guarding his emotions that even flirting with a woman had confounded him . . . until yesterday.
He knew his self-inflicted ban on dating had everything to do with Miranda Whittaker, the girl he’d grown up with, the girl he’d wanted to marry from their first kiss in junior high. The girl who had broken off their engagement three weeks before the ceremony because she decided she couldn’t live on a ranch, and Red couldn’t live anywhere else.
She’d moved to San Diego shortly after that, and they hadn’t spoken since. Six months after she tore his heart out with a hot branding iron, his dad passed away during the night from a heart attack. The loss was crushing, not only to Red who had idolized his dad, but to his mom who had loved him since they were sixteen. His mom went through months of depression that developed into a bout of pneumonia that nearly took her as well. Somehow, she managed to recover, but for the longest time, Red kept waiting for another shoe to drop. He couldn’t seem to relax, couldn’t seem to live his life. Instead, his nerves twitched at even the slightest family issue and he guarded his heart like the warden of a jail. No one was getting in and no more love was going out, at least not for anyone new.
Ever since that time, Red had been working hard to keep himself, his mom, his aunt and uncle, and the ranch from falling into despair. He’d
had no time for distractions of any kind, and that included even a coffee date with a woman. He hadn’t been willing to take the risk of falling for someone only to have it end in another heartache. Even his aunt May was dealing with a slow-burning sadness. Her husband, Red’s Uncle Ted, was slowly slipping into the depths of dementia and at times didn’t remember that he was married, let alone his wife’s name.
Now Red had to go and meet Jolie Shepard, a woman who apparently didn’t know the first thing about ranching, was one of those sheltered young adults without a job, and who lived in a city Red had no desire to ever visit.
“This can’t and won’t turn into anything. Ever. She’s just some over-enthusiastic visitor I’m sharing a wish with. Nothing more,” he told himself as he snuck a peek at the baby monitor that showed Miss Ida May standing in her stall, still very pregnant. He’d barely slept because of his mare, and because of Jolie Shepard—two ornery females who were giving him chronic heartburn.
He trudged to the bathroom for a cold shower.
The cool water felt good against his skin as goose bumps rose on his arms and chest. He didn’t care. He needed the distraction and made the water even colder as he lathered his hair with soap.
Still, he couldn’t shake the attraction he felt for her. He told himself she was just another girl, just someone who would step in and out of his life once Christmas was over. But nothing seemed to assuage his desire to get to know her better . . . much better.
By five o’clock, after he shaved, dressed, drank down a thermos of black coffee, cleaned out Miss Ida May’s stall, and plowed the snow off the long driveway that meandered onto the ranch, he paced the snowy front porch waiting for Jolie’s arrival, a big part of him hoping she wouldn’t show up. The white Christmas lights that surrounded the porch still twinkled their mock icicle formation, while gently swaying in the morning breeze. His mom didn’t like to turn them off until the sun blotted out their light, but on a gloomy day like today, with heavy snow clouds blocking out the sun, she’d probably leave them on.
The lights served as a stinging reminder that granting Holly’s Christmas wish had propelled him into this awkward situation . . . not that he didn’t want to do it. He did. He was completely prepared to grant Holly’s wish on his own. He’d looked over his riding lesson schedule last night and found a weekend slot for her right after the New Year, then a follow-up slot two weeks later. Heck, if Holly showed promise, he was willing to work something out with her parents for some private coaching.
Most of his classes were limited to five students at a time, for four-hour intervals, for three days in a row. During the summer, he taught three-hour classes, for five days in a row. His mom and aunt helped out with the paperwork, and two local high school kids, Jason and Anna Kidman, both expert Western riders, helped out with the classes.
The rest of his time was filled with ranch work and helping his mom and aunt with their weekend bread and cookie stand at the Farmer’s Market just outside of town inside the Elliott Regional Community Center. Even in the dead of winter, that Farmer’s Market still thrived. Nothing kept folks away, not even a blizzard, which according to the latest weather report, might be heading right for Starlight Bend at any moment.
He just wished he didn’t have to grant the wish along with Jolie Shepard.
He glanced at his watch and realized she was fifteen minutes late.
Maybe she’s not coming.
He spotted the headlights first as dawn fought with night to gain control of the endless sky that surrounded Red’s family ranch. He recognized Riley’s old blue pickup and saw two silhouettes bouncing inside the cab. As he stepped off the porch to greet the women, his stomach clenched and he told himself to calm the hell down.
“Hey, Red,” Riley called out once she parked the pickup in front of the house. “Don’t you go working my friend too hard. This was supposed to be her vacation.”
The passenger door opened and Jolie got out looking like a deer caught in headlights on a dark road. But at least she was dressed for ranch work. She wore a thick dark blue parka, a white knit hat, leather work gloves, jeans, and black work boots. He figured Riley probably had something to do with it.
“Won’t give her nothing that I wouldn’t do myself,” he teased, as Jolie made her way up the three stairs to stand next to him on the porch.
“That’s not saying much, Red, considering I’ve seen you pick up a hundred pound log when you’re working a fence.”
“You never said anything about building fences,” Jolie said, her voice almost a whisper.
He turned to face her. “No fences. I promise. Cleaning out horse stalls, and fixing a broken gate, well, that’s more like it.”
She grinned, but he could tell she felt completely out of her element. He wanted to tell her to forget about all of this, and just go on back with Riley. There was no need for her to barter anything, when she said, “Why? Don’t you think I could handle a fence pole? I’ll have you know that I can lift a fifty pound weight without even a grunt.”
And there it was, that determined attitude of hers that had captured his imagination. The deer in the headlights look was gone, replaced by a set jaw and eyes that squinted out their message: I am woman. I can do anything.
“So what you’re saying is you’re up to some heavy lifting today?”
She took a step closer, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m saying I’m up for whatever you’ve got, Red Wiseman. Bring it on. I’m ready.”
“Then I shouldn’t hold back?” He moved in closer and caught a whiff of her perfume or was it her body wash?
That vision of her standing naked in the shower was enough to bring him to his knees, but he stood his ground.
“I’d be disappointed if you did.”
She smelled of lilacs and honey with a whole lot of fortitude.
“Believe me, I’m never a disappointment.”
“You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Just telling it like it is.”
She held his gaze, but he spotted the tiniest of grins in the corners of her mouth that gave away her inner sexy thoughts.
If they were anything like his thoughts, the entire porch would ignite at any moment.
“Okay then,” she finally said, her voice sounding forced.
“Okay then,” he repeated, still staring at her lovely face. It was then that he noticed how gray her eyes were, and ringed with a deep steel blue. He’d never seen eyes like hers before. They captured her soul and what he saw was a multifaceted woman who hadn’t even begun to spread her wings. Right then and there, he decided that in the next few days he’d like to help her to fly, to really soar.
He couldn’t wait to get started.
“Okay,” Riley said, reminding Red that someone else was there. Somehow he’d completely forgotten about Riley. “It sounds as if you two want to get right to it . . . work, get right to work.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll just be going then, and I’ll pick her up at one. Family’s going out to chop down our tree today. I’d like Jolie to join us.”
Red broke away from Jolie’s gaze and focused on Riley’s words. “That’s fine. We should be done by then. But I can drop her off. I’ve got to go to town anyway and I’ll drive right by your place.”
“Sounds good,” Riley said, then she gave Jolie a little wave, got in her truck, put it in reverse and drove away leaving Red in charge.
“First order of business is breakfast. I’m going to assume you didn’t have any.”
“I don’t normally eat breakfast.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. My mom and aunt serve up the most irresistible breakfast in all of Montana. They make fresh bread every morning. People drive down from all the surrounding towns just to buy a loaf at the weekend Farmers Market. And her scrambled eggs . . . I don’t know what she puts in ’em, but they’re the best.” He held open the front door, waited for Jolie to walk inside.
“I can’t wait,” she said, a big smile stretching
across her full lips as she pulled off the white knit cap she’d been wearing revealing chestnut colored hair that she wore pinned up. He’d forgotten how much her hair glistened in the light, and loved how one long thick strand caressed her cheek.
Lovely.
Heaven help him, but this was going to be one of the longest mornings of his life.
Chapter Four
“Well,” Red said, as he sat back in his chair, looking satisfied with himself. “We’d better get to it.”
Red’s mom, Ida, stopped him. “Jolie’s still eating, son.” Then she picked up the plate of possibly the best rosemary fried potatoes Jolie had ever tasted and offered another helping. “More, my dear?”
“Oh no, but thank you so much. I don’t usually eat breakfast,” Jolie told her as she sat back and assessed the damage. She’d eaten three slices of toast made with homemade bread and homemade blueberry jam so good that the blueberries popped in her mouth. If that wasn’t enough, she’d downed two slices of vegetable frittata, a big helping of potatoes, and washed it all down with coffee made from freshly ground beans, and warmed raw milk from a local dairy.
Her taste buds were purring.
“Ida and me will be making something very special for lunch,” May added. “You bring her back here around noon, Red, so she’ll have enough time to eat before you take her back to town.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly . . . what are you making?” Jolie asked, on second thought. She couldn’t bear to miss out on a meal prepared by Ida and May. They were now two of Jolie’s favorite cooks on the planet.
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 34