The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  “Hello?” he asked, dipping down for a moment so that they were eye level. “Are you okay?”

  Ella snapped out of it. “What? Oh, yes. Fine. Um, thanks. No, ah . . . I’ll just walk.” She meant to point toward town but unthinkingly pointed toward her house.

  He looked in the direction she pointed, understandably confused. “The old Kendall place?”

  Well, of course the old Kendall place, seeing as how it was the only place out here, and she was a Kendall . . .

  Wait just a dadgum minute. Oh God, no. No! She wanted to die. At least crawl under her car. Ella’s heart slammed against her ribs, and she felt her face flood with the heat of embarrassment because he didn’t recognize her. He had no idea who she was.

  Okay, well, move over senior dance, because this moment was now the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her.

  And then she instantly chastised herself. Jesus, Ella, why would he remember you? He’d never noticed her, save that one night on the dark dance floor, and that kiss, while pretty darn memorable to her, what with all the fireworks and fizzy explosions inside her, had probably been one of dozens he’d bestowed on girls that week alone.

  Ella thought she’d overcome all her high school insecurities, but they were suddenly roaring back to life and flaring into two spots of mortification in her cheeks.

  “I can give you a ride if you need it,” he said again, and his gaze slid over her, taking in her floppy hat, her half-wet T-shirt cut off just above her belly button, her jeans similarly sheared off at the knees. And, of course, her snow boots.

  Yeah, well, there was no way she was getting on that horse with all those muscles and abs as she recalled all the sparks he’d sent showering through her twelve years ago while he didn’t remember her at all. “I’m good,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. She adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder. “I’m going to walk to town.”

  “You’re at least a mile away,” he pointed out. “That’s a hike in snow boots.”

  Okay, buh-bye. She needed to get as far away from him as she could get before she started whimpering. “Nope. Not a hike. Okay! So, hi and all that, but I’m good. Have a good day,” she said with moronic aplomb, and started walking.

  “Hey, wait,” he said, and the next thing she knew, he and his horse were walking along beside her. He was a mountain, a tall, fit, hot-as-hell mountain of a man, and her skin was tingling just being near him, just like it used to tingle when he sat next to her in algebra. She stole a look at his waist and had the insane urge to bury her face in his abs.

  “I didn’t realize anyone was living at the old Kendall place,” he said. “I understood the owner had died.”

  “She did,” Ella said.

  “So, are you renting, or . . . ?”

  Or what? Squatting? Did he think she was squatting? “Or,” she said curtly.

  “Okay.” He bent his head in another attempt to make eye contact.

  Ella looked down.

  “You must think I’m pretty darn nosy,” he said. “I don’t blame you. I’m curious, that’s all. My family owns the land around the Kendall place.”

  “I know,” she said, and stole another look at him from beneath the brim of her sun hat. He was smiling, but his brows were dipped, as if he was unsure what he was smiling about. Even when he frowned he was good-looking. How did the Princes get so lucky? It wasn’t fair.

  She walked a little faster.

  “That makes us neighbors,” he said, easily keeping pace. “But I must be a pretty awful neighbor, because I’ve never seen someone so desperate to get away from me. If you weren’t wearing those snow boots, you might have succeeded.”

  She laughed, the sound of it all hahaha like she was on stage. “I’m not trying to get away from you. I’m just in a rush,” she said, and wished to God above he’d stop smiling like that. “Super busy,” she added for emphasis.

  “Are you sure that’s all?” he asked with a lopsided smile. “Because I would hate to leave a pretty woman stuck on the road because she’s upset with her neighbor.”

  Oh no. No, no, no. She would not fall for the random compliment tossed out to make her smile, to do the old, “Who, me?” Okay, so her heart had fluttered a little when he said she was pretty. But Ella wasn’t crazy. She was a poster child for practical. And she was wise to the ways of the world. So she stopped midstride to face him. “Look, seriously, I’m not stuck. Thanks for stopping to check on me, but I’m good. And I need to run. I don’t mean run, precisely,” she said, bowing to his observation of her snow boots. “I mean hurry.”

  Luca Prince looked confused, as if he’d missed the stage instructions and didn’t understand what was happening in his movie just now. “Well,” he said, and swept his arm toward the road before her. “If you refuse the help of me and my trusty steed, then please, carry on,” he said. “But do you mind if I ask a question before you go?”

  His eyes were rimmed with dark lashes that made the hazel really stand out. Ella could remember staring at those lashes in science class. “Okay.”

  “When I was a kid, there was a natural spring behind the Kendall place. About the size of a small lake. Is it still there?”

  “Ah . . . yes.” She dropped her gaze to his feet. In spite of how mortified she was, she was also suddenly and incomprehensibly horny.

  “Mind if I come have a look at it sometime?”

  Ella didn’t understand him. Look at what? She glanced up. “Huh?”

  His gaze fell to her mouth, and he said, “I’d like to have a look at your spring.”

  What did that mean? Was it a euphemism? Was she supposed to know what that meant like she was suddenly supposed to know what ghosting and submarining and breadcrumbing meant? “Umm . . . I guess?”

  He smiled, and it was charmingly lopsided, a level of handsome that could not be fabricated or feigned, a smile that easily put him up against the featured actors and musicians on the pages of Entertainment Weekly she fantasized about while funneling corn chips into her mouth. “Thanks,” he said.

  “Okay, well . . .” She gave him a weird salute that she had never, ever done in her life, and started walking, this time with a determined stride.

  “Will you at least tell me your name?” he called after her.

  She paused. Her heart was racing again, and she imagined all the things he would say when he heard her name, how he would tumble over his own words trying to apologize. She glanced back. “Ella.” Ella Kendall. You kissed me at your senior dance, remember?

  But there was no flicker of recognition, no hand slapped to forehead with an “Ah, of course!” He just kept smiling sexily and said, “Nice meeting you, Ella.”

  He did not remember her. He had no clue who she was. He did not remember the notes, or algebra and science, or that kiss. Nothing. She was a big fat nothing in his memory.

  Great.

  Ella whipped around, determined to put as much distance between them as she could in the next five minutes so she could scream.

  When she glanced back—because she couldn’t help it, she had to have one last look at charming Luca Prince, had to know if he was watching her, had to know if this had really just happened or if she was suffering sunstroke—he was already on his horse, probably having somersaulted into the saddle, and was cantering across the pasture, disappearing into the winter grasses and oaks.

  She wouldn’t have been surprised to see the credits roll now to indicate the end of this little movie.

  “Well, congratulations, Ella Kendall, once again, you’ve made a smashing impression,” she muttered. She shifted her tote bag to the other shoulder and resumed her march toward town. She guessed a high school crush didn’t go away over twelve years. It hibernated and came out hangry.

  Chapter Two

  When Luca was nine years old, he got in trouble at school. His mother, m
ade hysterical by the words “inability to focus” and “may be held back,” had accused Luca of a desire to destroy his future and, by extension, her happiness.

  His father had taken a more practical, if somewhat unorthodox, approach. He’d asked Luca into his study, had poured himself three fingers of whiskey, and had offered Luca a sip, which he’d declined. His father had sat down in front of him, had templed his fingers, and said, “Son, very rich men with very good looks can get away with a lot.”

  Luca had thought maybe his father was confused about why they were having their chat.

  But his father had leaned forward, and with a gleam in his eye, he’d reiterated, “A lot. You’ll know better what I mean when you’re a little older. But what I’m saying is, you need to find a girl and copy her homework. Comprende?”

  Luca hadn’t understood him at all, but he’d been afraid to admit it then and had nodded.

  “Good, good,” his father had said, and had leaned back in his leather armchair and picked up his whiskey. “Don’t tell your brother what I said,” he’d added before tossing the whiskey down his throat. “Nick’s a fine-looking boy, don’t get me wrong. But he doesn’t have your looks, Luca. He’s the smart one, so he’ll be all right. You’re the charmer, Luca. You’ll go just as far.”

  Luca had considered his father’s prediction without taking offense. He’d asked, “What about Hallie?” referring to his twin sister.

  “Hallie!” His father had chuckled. “Hallie’s a girl, son. That’s a whole different ball game.” His parental duty discharged, his father had patted Luca on the shoulder then said, “Go on, get out of here. But word to the wise, boy—I’d avoid your mother today if I were you.”

  Luca had left his father’s study not understanding what he was supposed to do. At nine years old, girls were still creatures that did not fit anywhere in his world view. But he was thirty now, and he got it.

  He also got that he was lucky, first and foremost, blessed with both money and good looks. He could honestly say, and without much shame, that the last ten or so years of his life had been something akin to a perpetual airing of The Bachelor. He’d waded through so many pretty women with bikini bodies and Brazilian blowouts across Texas that they were all starting to look alike in his memory.

  But it hadn’t been all rose ceremonies either. Luca had made plenty of mistakes along the way, had probably been a dick more often than he realized. He wasn’t proud of that and wished he could take back some of the things he’d said or done. C’est la vie.

  He’d learned a few things, too.

  One was to always listen when a woman spoke, which he was doing at this very moment, as Karen explained to him over the phone that she had better things to do than sit around and wait for him. He was due to be at her house in half an hour, but he hadn’t even showered yet.

  “I am a very busy woman, Luca Prince.”

  “I hear you,” he said. If Luca was going to grade himself on listening—and he would, thank you, because he was not crazy enough to ask an ex—he would give himself a high score.

  Except that he wasn’t actually listening to Karen as she berated him, because he knew what she was going to say. She’d said it before. That was another thing he’d learned—women did not like to be stood up. Now, Luca had never actually stood a woman up, but on occasion, he had some time management issues that had kept one or two women . . . okay, a few . . . waiting past the point of forgiveness. He would have to grade himself as a “work in progress” on that.

  This problem of his didn’t just affect his personal relationships. He owned a car dealership now—no thanks to Uncle Chet, who’d been trying to do him a favor, but had saddled him with a car dealership—and his inability to show up on time had caused some hurt feelings around the conference room. Honest to God, he wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was like his internal clock was haywire, and when he thought he had plenty of time to get somewhere, he didn’t.

  Victor, his general manager, wore an expression of extreme crabbiness on those days Luca did show up to flip through catalogs and sign off on things. He said things like, “Should we schedule the meeting for Friday, or do you need more time?”

  Yeah, he was not cut out to be a car salesman. Especially electric cars, even if they were better for the environment. He was all for the environment, but he’d rather have a tooth pulled than sell a car. And the Sombra electric car was still in its infancy. Designed and developed out of Mexico, it was supposed to be the car to rival Tesla. But it wasn’t him.

  Which logically lead to the question, what was him?

  Luca’s internal jury was still out on that. All he knew was there was one thing he could be on time for, and that was the meetings that he and his lifelong best friend, Brandon Hurst, had been holding to explore the idea of how to rebuild the ecosystems on both of their family ranches. Most people thought it was an odd thing for a couple of born and bred cowboys to be interested in, but they were two men who shared a love of the outdoors and a despair over the depletion of nature by the hands of humans.

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” Luca promised Karen.

  Karen sighed heavily. “If you’re going to be even a minute longer than an hour, don’t bother showing up.”

  “Thanks for understanding, Karen,” he said, and hung up before she could object.

  Some people thought Luca was irresponsible. His dad said he was a free spirit. The truth was that he was disorganized. He was late today, thanks to a date last night that had ended in his bed in his San Antonio loft. Three Rivers Ranch was the sort of mansion built to house generations of a family. He had plenty of space there, but like Nick, who lived in a smaller house on the opposite side of the ranch, Luca was too old to be living in the family compound. So he’d bought a loft in San Antonio. It came in quite handy for nights like last night.

  He would make it up to Karen. A smile could go a long way toward easing a woman’s ire, and so could cupcakes. Karen’s sweet tooth was off the charts.

  When Luca was showered and dressed, he passed through the kitchen, gave Frederica, the family cook, a big bear hug, and then went out to the multi-car garage that housed all their expensive vehicles. His mother’s Mercedes. Hallie’s Range Rover. His dad’s King Ranch pickup, just like the one Nick drove.

  Luca had a truck, too, which he much preferred. But as the owner of a Sombra dealership, he felt like he had to walk the talk.

  He drove his Sombra into Three Rivers and parked across the street from Jo’s Java. Jo Carol was behind the counter, a pencil stuck behind her ear and another pencil stabbed into the mess of platinum blond hair she wore on top of her head. On weekends, Jo Carol let that mane down, and she and her husband, Bill, did a little boot-scooting up at the Broken Wagon. “Good morning, handsome!” she said brightly. “The regular?”

  “The regular,” Luca confirmed, and eyed the cupcakes in the pastry case.

  “Got your favorite,” Jo Carol said as she filled a to-go cup with coffee. “Chocolate with crème filling.”

  “I might have to take about four of those with me,” he said with a smile. “You know I can’t walk away from your cupcakes, Jo Carol.”

  “You mean you can’t walk away from a whole lot of woman,” she said, gesturing to her ample figure. “I know your type, baby. If you want to play like it’s the cupcakes you’re after, I’ll go along.”

  Luca laughed.

  She fit the lid on the cup of coffee and reached for a sleeve. “Guess what? My daughter Hannah is moving back to Three Rivers, all the way from Dallas.”

  “Is that right?” Luca asked. He quickly sorted through his ex file. Had he possibly dated Hannah from Dallas at some point?

  “Yep.” Jo Carol looked up and met his eyes as she handed him the coffee. She retrieved a box from the top of the pastry case. “You seeing anyone, Luca sweetie?”

  Oh, so she wanted him to date Han
nah, which meant he hadn’t dated her. He smiled. “Now, Jo Carol. You know I’m never single.”

  She put the cupcakes in the box. “You’re a dog, Luca Prince.”

  “Guilty,” he agreed.

  “But I’ve taught Hannah how to train dogs,” she said with a wink. “I’ll let you know when she gets in town. Put it on your tab?”

  “Thanks,” he said. He didn’t really have a tab. Three Rivers Ranch had a running account with Jo’s Java for meetings and charity functions. The ranch had accounts all over town. All over San Antonio. All over the state.

  He turned away from the counter and was sipping his black coffee on his way out when he happened to spot Randy Frame sitting near the window. Randy was a big guy, hard to miss. He was married to Mariah Frame, who owned a little clothing boutique with an attached hair salon on the town square.

  But what caught Luca’s attention was who was sitting across from Randy.

  It was her again. The woman he’d met with the broken-down car on the county road that cut through their land. He’d seen her since that afternoon. He’d seen her a lot and everywhere. It was like that phenomenon of seeing the same number everywhere you look, but in this case, he kept seeing the same woman. And every time he saw her, she either pretended she hadn’t seen him at all or slipped away before he could speak. She was avoiding him.

  Luca was starting to get a complex, and he did not get complexes.

  He’d seen her at the corner gas station where everyone got their coffee in the morning. He’d pulled into the electric charge stations, and she’d been at a pump. He knew damn well she’d seen him, too, because their eyes locked. But before he could say a word, she had scrambled into that beat-up SUV (that by some miracle was even running) and had peeled out of there like he was carrying the plague.