by Tessa Bowen
“Suuuuuuure, you wouldn’t. Big rodeo star…buckle bunnies and all that.”
So, she knows who I am…
“I gave all that up years ago.”
She let out a loud snort, turning on her side to face him. She nestled her face into the pillow and then yawned. Her eyes were still closed, but now she just seemed very sleepy, instead of out cold.
“You don’t remember me—that’s ok, it was a long time ago.”
Jeb frowned. Had this girl been one of his many conquests back in his bronc riding days? Had he hurt or misused her in some way and now she was here for retribution? He’d acted like an irresponsible asshole with women as a young buck, before Sophie. Once he’d fallen for her, he’d only had eyes for his Native American queen. He’d fallen that hard, much to his own detriment—as well as hers and John’s. Jeb quickly did the math. This girl would have been too young. Even while sowing his wild oats he’d never slept with any underage girls. Unless she’d lied about her age.
“Did we uh…”
“It’s probably best you forget.”
“That bad, huh?”
He knelt next to the bed, knowing he was on the cusp of unlocking the secret of this her identity.
“I was bad,” she sighed. “Very bad.”
Jeb didn’t know what that meant. Did she mean bad in bed, or bad in some other way?
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
She laughed dopily. “Darlin’…”
“Your name,” he whispered intently, knowing she was about to drift off. “What’s your name?”
She opened her eyes then—finally. It was as if he was staring into the wide blue ocean. Her eyes were bottomless, hooded just as he’d expected, mysterious eyes, mesmerizing eyes.
“Lorelai,” she said softly. “My name is Lorelai Northrup.”
Lorelai.
Jeb’s head spun. “Lorelai,” he repeated in amazement, but the girl was fast asleep now.
He recalled his mother singing a song around the house called Lorelai. It was about a mermaid of all things. Jeb had loved his mother’s singing and had asked her about the song. She’d explained to him that Lorelai was a mythical creature—a temptress who possessed a heavenly voice—a heavenly voice she’d entice sailors with until they crashed their ships against the sharp rocks she sat upon, warming her glittering fish tail in the sun for all to admire. Then she’d take her pick, enslaving them with her kisses and her rare beauty, pulling them down into the depths of the sea and ultimately to their watery graves.
He’d told his mother that Lorelai sounded like a real bad girl, or mermaid rather. She’d only laughed and tickled him under his chin to reassure him, “It’s only a tale, my sweet boy. Or a ‘tail.’” Then she’d wink. “It’s an old Gershwin tune. My favorite.”
“Lorelai,” Jeb breathed again. “Her name is Lorelai. I’ll be switched.”
She was an enchantress to be sure—a mermaid, wobbly on her earthly legs for the time being. Would she curse him? Would she be his end? Would her legs turn into a tail if they dried out? Did he need to store her in a bathtub or what? Maybe he ought to keep her out of the bathtub—what if she drowned him in it.
A mermaid in Montana.
Jeb rose and covered her with a blanket, backing out of the room. He needed to get John on the horn. His big brother was the one with the brains, he’d know what to do. He checked the time. It would be early evening in England. He’d probably catch him just before dinner.
John’s uproarious laughter sounded through the receiver as Jeb finished recounting his strange tale or…’tail’.
“Are you sure you haven’t gone nutty out there in the boonies?”
“That’s what I thought at first, that it was a bad case of cabin fever. But I pinched myself and she’s real.”
This sent John into a fresh round of thunderous guffaws. “Well, if she’s real, little brother—then you’re real screwed. But I’m glad you pinched yourself just to make sure.”
Jeb chewed his thumbnail in frustration. He could just imagine the tears of mirth running down his brother’s face.
“Why am I screwed? Because she’s so beautiful, you mean. I’m telling you, Johnny. She’s as beautiful as Abbie—she’s like that kind of beautiful.”
“Hey, watch it.” John said good-naturedly. “No one is as beautiful as my Abbie.”
Jeb heard Abigail perk up in the background. “If this mysterious creature is more beautiful than I am, then we must return home quickly so that I can scratch her eyes out.”
They both burst out laughing and now Jeb listened to his baby niece join in. Not that she knew what she was laughing about.
“You bunch of jokers think I can’t handle one little whacked-out miss, huh?”
“You better handle her just right, that’s George Northrup’s daughter you’ve got passed out up there.”
“George Northrup…you mean the oilman from Texas.”
“The very one.”
“No shit. He gave me a big wad of money to start my rodeo career, remember—because Dad thought I was an idiot and wouldn’t help. George Northrup was a big fan of mine.”
“Guess you owe him then. Besides, he’s been a client in the past. I do believe he’s paid us the highest price for a horse on record. So you better not piss him off.”
“Wait a minute, Jacksons don’t suck up.”
“No, they sure don’t. I’m just joshing you, little brother, but you better take care. That’s precious cargo you’re storing.”
“Goddamn it. This one is going to be a pain in my ass. She’s high as a kite on lord knows what. She told me she needs to get straight.”
“If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be a pain in the ass all right. You better give her what she wants.”
“Jeb playing nursemaid to an attractive stranger, how deliciously scandalous,” Abigail tittered.
Jeb rolled his eyes. The baby was clucking on while Abbie started in with her demands.
“Dearest, would you bring me another bowl of ice cream. And make this serving a double.”
“Duty calls,” John remarked. “She’s eating like a horse with this pregnancy.”
“I heard that.”
“Good luck, little brother. You’re going to need it.”
“Yeah, yeah—let me talk to my niece.”
“Ok, I’ll hold the phone up to her ear.”
Jeb could tell she was on the line. He recognized that gurgling sound she made.
“Hi Duck, it’s your Uncle Jeb.”
Daphne let out a cheep of recognition. And then a symphony of squawks to express her excitement.
Jeb laughed. “I miss you too, little duck. I carved you something new—a beautiful swan, because that’s what you’ll grow up to be someday. Just like your mother.”
He made out the sound of her smacking lips. John was probably feeding her ice cream.
“I’ve got a mermaid in Jenny’s bed upstairs. What the hell do I do?”
There was silence at the end of the line. Dead silence.
For once Ducky had nothing to say, no response, no omnipotent quack.
He was on his own.
Chapter Two
The first thing Lorelai saw when she woke was a set of awful curtains the color of Pepto Bismol. Thankfully, they were drawn because her head pounded something fierce.
And to think I used to like pink.
The curtains were unfamiliar to her, as was the room, but she knew exactly where she was and why.
She remembered her reckless night in Dallas—the shindig she’d thrown in honor of her divorce being finalized. She’d tied one on, playing the part of the carefree party girl. It was imperative she put on a good face for her friends. She wanted them clueless when it came to the matter of her utter and complete devastation. As the night wore on, the reality of her situation sunk in and she could play the part no longer. She’d vomited in the parking lot next to her car like a green high schooler at her first kegger. Lorela
i had sat in her car a while, suffering the blow of her husband’s infidelity. She’d stared at herself in the rearview mirror as mascara ran down her face, utterly numb (thanks to the handful of pills she’d swallowed after the puking incident). Lorelai hardly recognized herself. Where was the girl with spirit and independence? She’d sold out, followed along. And when had she started wearing so much makeup? She’d done what she never thought she would do. She’d turned into a garish Dallas country club wife. But now she wasn’t even a wife. She was no one. She’d lost herself completely.
Sitting in her car in that empty parking lot, her thoughts had wandered to another rejection she’d suffered, long ago.
Jeb Jackson.
The next thing she knew she was driving through the night in a Xanax induced haze. She hadn’t stopped until she’d reached Montana—not even for pee breaks, she’d been that dehydrated. Somehow in her muddled brain, she thought Jeb Jackson would have the answer for her—why wasn’t she good enough?
But now lying there stone cold-sober, she realized what a crazy move she’d made. She vaguely recalled him answering the door and exchanging a few nonsensical words with him. Then there had been an all-consuming blackness. She was fairly certain she’d passed out cold on his stoop. Or had he caught her? Was the feel of him all a muddled hallucination—the solid strength of his arms, his clean warm scent. Lorelai wasn’t sure of much, she was only sure that she was at Jackson Ranch in Montana, many miles from home, lying in what appeared to be a teenager’s bedroom. Jeb Jackson would be somewhere in this great big house and no doubt she’d have to face him soon. The shame of it made her face burn.
She had only one choice. She had to sneak out on her tiptoes, except she couldn’t move because her head hurt so bad.
You have to move, damn it. You have to get out of here before he wakes up.
She didn’t even know what time it was—nor did she know what day it was. She did know however (much to her horror) that she now heard the heavy footfalls of booted feet coming up the stairs, moving down the hall toward her.
“Oh, crap!”
She pulled the covers over her head. Too late for a stealthy exit. She’d have to play dead, or at the very least play as though she were fast asleep. Lorelai screwed her eyes shut, praying inwardly that her performance would be convincing. The covers were torn off her in one violent snap. She shrieked, and it was made abundantly clear that she was most definitely not asleep. Nor was she dead for that matter.
She sat straight up in bed, squinting and slapping a palm over her throbbing forehead. She made out the outline of his form as he stalked over to the window. When he jerked the curtain panels wide, she shrieked again.
She fell back on the bed, covering her eyes. “Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What are you doing, trying to kill me?”
“It’s you who is trying to kill me, girly.”
Girly?
She quickly pulled the blankets back up to her nose only to have him lurch toward her and snatch the covers away once more. She went for the blankets and now they were in a tug-of-war.
“How am I supposed to sleep without blankets,” she complained.
“You’ve been sleeping for two days straight without any food—had a hell of a time even getting water down your gullet.”
She couldn’t look at him. Jeb Jackson was there in the flesh after eight long years. The reality of the situation made her fairly certain she’d snapped. Was it possible that she was still in a Xanax stupor—was this all just a bad trip?
“I need more sleep.”
“No more sleep, time to get up, missy. It’s way past your feeding time.”
“I want my sunglasses and I’m not hungry.”
“You don’t need sunglasses. You need to get your ass out of bed. You’ve been sleeping so long winter has turned into spring. You came here to straighten out, remember? I’ve helped you do that, now you can eat and be on your way.”
She screwed up the courage to peer at him. He was more attractive than she remembered—older, the lines of his suntanned face only adding to his rugged male appeal. Some part of her felt very happy to see him again, in spite of the fact that he was glaring at her.
His western shirt was buttoned crookedly. His hair was a mess too, and he had dark circles under his eyes, a few days’ growth of beard darkened the strong line of his jaw. He’d obviously been worked over.
“You seem quite…perturbed.”
“You had me worried sick.”
Lorelai blinked fetchingly. “I did?”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. Don’t look so pleased with yourself. A perfect stranger showing up at my house whacked-out of her head is not my idea of a good time.”
She’d sworn she’d given him her name. “A perfect stranger…?”
“I don’t need this sort of stress—you were in one sorry state, withdrawing from whatever shit you were on. You were sick as a dog, sweating and shaking—out of your head.”
“It was just a little Xanax.”
“You had bottles of the stuff, filled to the brim—which I flushed down the toilet by the way. You won’t be having any more of that garbage.”
She gasped in outrage. “You pawed through my things?”
“You left a mess out in the driveway. And yes, I pawed through your things. I didn’t know who you were. I thought you might be some old fan—a stalker maybe. I was on the pro rodeo circuit years back. I’m sort of…well known in these parts.”
“I’m not a stalker. I mean…how insulting.”
“Well, you’re certainly a crazy woman—those drugs made you crazy! And now I’ve gone crazy taking care of you!”
“Stop shouting at me,” she pouted. “My name is Lorelai, I’m not a crazy woman or a stalker. I gave you my name before, told you my father sent me. I’m sure of it…”
“You told me you drove here from Dallas—that’s it. And this name Lorelai. Could be fake for all I know. That’s a mermaid’s name.”
“I think maybe you’re the crazy person here.”
“I’m delirious—that’s for sure.”
“Maybe you need a Xanax.”
He pointed a stern finger at her. “Don’t get cute.”
“You flushed them all anyway.”
He paced in his agitation. “I thought you were going to die. Here in my goddamn house. I didn’t know if I should take you to the hospital or what, but you flipped out when I suggested it. You even threw a few punches at me.”
She tossed her head in an imperious gesture, even though it made her wince in pain. “I don’t know why you’re so angry—I’m your guest.”
His green eyes widened. “You’re my guest, huh?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“This isn’t the looney bin, girly! And it’s not a rehab either. Why did you choose to come all the way here?”
“I had my reasons,” Lorelai answered quietly. “No matter how misguided.”
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“Listen, honey—if we had a thing back in the day its ok to tell me. There were a lot of women. Too many to keep straight. I know that makes me sound like an asshole, but I was real young. If I did something to hurt you, I apologize.”
Lorelai raised guilty eyes to him. He had hurt her, simply by rejecting her.
He pulled back, a horror-stricken expression passing over his face. “Damn, we did have a tussle then. You must have been just a girl. Strange…I’ve always preferred dark-haired women.”
Even in her depleted state, this made Lorelai see red. She grabbed a pillow and swatted him hard with it. “I’m no buckle bunny! I’ve never worn a tube top in my life! That’s a requirement to go to bed with you, isn’t it? Or to give you a massage—or whatever!”
“Tube top…massage…huh?”
“Ugh—we never slept together! I met you once, but you don’t remember.”
“Guess your strength is coming back,” he said wryly. “Strange because you haven’t eaten in two days.”
/> “You shouldn’t upset me,” she huffed. “I have an atrocious headache.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “My, aren’t you the uppity little miss.”
“Can I have some aspirin?”
“Not until you’ve eaten.”
“And I’m not little.”
“You’re slender as a sapling, but leggy.”
Their eyes met. An awkward silence fell. She tugged at the nightie she wore. It was too short and rode up. It was flannel and pink (yet again) with white polka dots.
“What am I wearing?”
“That’s Jenny’s nightdress—couldn’t find anything else for you.”
“Who is Jenny?”
“Margaret’s daughter, this is her room. Margaret and her husband help out around the ranch. They live here in fact.”
“Who changed me?” she asked primly.
She was perversely pleased when he shuffled his feet in discomfort. “I had doc do it.”
Lorelai manufactured a look of dismay. “You let a doctor in here to change me—that means he saw me naked. Were you in the room too?”
“Of course not! I’m a gentleman,” Jeb spluttered. “I stepped out of the room.”
“What if he probed me,” she said with exaggerated worry. “This doctor of yours.”
“He’s not an actual doctor, he’s the ranch vet—and a good guy. He’s trustworthy.”
“You let a vet probe me!”
“No one probed you. Maybe I should have taken you to the hospital, but it would have been against your will. You were hard to handle. I needed his help. He knows a lot about animals, so I thought…”
“I’m not an animal.”
“I know that.”
Lorelai detected the color rising in his cheeks. He focused on rebuttoning his shirt properly, exposing a good portion of his chest as he straightened up. He was such a finely made man—hadn’t gained an inch since his bronc riding days.
She continued to badger him. “So, you let a veterinarian see me naked.”
“I suppose I did.”
“Why are you the one blushing then?”