The boys on the ranch had instantly won a spot in her heart—and school hadn’t even started yet. It felt as if she’d known them longer than two days. She was as attached to them as they seemed to be to her, and she knew it made Morgan edgy.
Everything about her made Morgan edgy, it seemed. But it sure had been nice to get a genuine smile out of him after she took down that steer. She’d felt that smile clear down to her toes. It had been hard to concentrate after he’d stalked out of the arena, but she’d done it and tried her hardest to convince Sammy to try, even saying she would go and help him, but he’d refused. She hadn’t tried to force the issue—hopefully time would help him.
Time would hopefully ease the tension between her and Morgan, too.
Jolie pulled into the vacant spot in front of the three-story Dew Drop Inn. The old redbrick structure had originally been a dance hall saloon back in the 1800s. It had had a whole host of other aliases through the years, too, including funeral parlor, boardinghouse and restaurant. It was said to have welcomed many famous folks—and just as many infamous folks—inside its doors at one time or another.
It had been boarded up for years and fallen into terrible disrepair before Mabel Tilsbee bought it and poured her soul into it. And for over thirty years now it had been the Dew Drop Inn. Black porch posts held a second-story balcony, and Mabel kept two pots overflowing with ferns on either side of the ornate double doors with leaded glass insets and heavy brass fixtures.
Inside, wooden floors were covered with rugs that had been worn down over the years but still held a lovely charm and gave the place a welcoming feeling. For Jolie, the inn was home until she found a place to rent or decided to take the small house at the ranch Randolph had told her went with the job.
The decision was complicated by Morgan’s being at the ranch, of course. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be out there—around him—all the time, especially because it was obvious he didn’t want her there. But even so, there had been moments—breathless times—when electricity crackled between them.
“Whoo,” she whispered, just thinking about it. Even though Morgan had shut it down almost as quickly as it had happened, there was no denying they’d both felt it. And as a result, she was pretty certain he wouldn’t welcome her moving out there, encroaching on him all the more.
It was a dilemma.
Swinging her legs from the doorless Jeep, she paused to stretch her aching back—taking a steer down by yourself did tend to strain muscles—and take in the rest of the town she’d left behind.
It had just two main roads that intersected, and smaller tree-lined roads that led to old-fashioned homes with spacious yards. She remembered it as the Mayberry of her youth. The newspaper office was on the far end of town, along with the hardware store and the barber shop. A church bench sat on the sidewalk between the two businesses, where the older men of town gathered to fix all the world’s problems. Chili Crump and Drewbaker Macintosh, whom she’d hugged at church that morning, were occupying the bench at the moment. In their mid-seventies, they’d taken the place of Snoot Pickens and Sargent Hanes, two characters who’d both passed but whose legends lived on in the tall tales of many.
A slight breeze fluttered over Jolie like whispers from years gone by. Yep, she was sure she’d been the topic of conversation on that bench many times—she could just imagine how it had been after she gave Morgan back his ring and hit the trail.
Poor Morgan. She hadn’t really thought about what he’d had to endure after she’d broken their engagement. She’d mostly been thinking about her own pain, and her frustration that he couldn’t support her decision to pursue her dream.
She swallowed, the breeze still whispering in her ears. Regret for the pain she’d caused settled like a rock in her stomach.
It was payback time—she was certain she was once more the hot topic on that bench, and everywhere else in town. She’d prepared herself for that when she’d decided to come home. But giving them something to talk about was a small price to pay to make things right between her and Morgan, to apologize for hurting him—something she had to keep reminding herself she was here to do. Apologize and heal—that had been the plan, but the feel of his arms after she’d fainted had taken her off track and confused her reasoning.
She wondered how Morgan felt about being in the spotlight, which she was certain she’d put him in when she’d rolled into town. Folks meant no harm, but Morgan was a pretty private person who’d already had way more attention than he’d ever wanted, thanks to her...and Celia. If she had to guess, she’d say he was less than overjoyed that she’d come home and put him back in the hot seat.
Scanning the rest of the town, her eyes came to rest on the Spotted Cow Café. Vibrant red geraniums overflowed at the entrance, and the bright yellow door stood out like a welcoming beacon. She’d been the one who’d come up with the idea to paint the door lemon pie–yellow all those years ago. Jolie’s stomach growled as she looked at it. Clearly, the door did its job, and did it well.
Behind her the string of bells on the Dew Drop Inn’s door tinkled merrily. Jolie turned back toward the inn.
“Well, I’ll be! If it ain’t Jolie Sheridan! Hon, it’s about time you came back home!” exclaimed Mabel Tilsbee, rushing from the building. The owner of the Dew Drop Inn engulfed Jolie and hiked her up in the air. Arms clamped to her sides and her feet dangling at Mabel’s shins, Jolie felt her body shake in the breeze. Mabel had always had a soft spot for Jolie. She’d also been the one who’d told Jolie that she’d never be happy if she lived with regrets.
“I am so happy you’re here!” Mabel cried as she squeezed the life out of Jolie. “Goodness gracious, this is the best surprise ever. When I got back into town a few hours ago and I found out you had checked in, I couldn’t believe it!”
“It’s good to see you, too,” Jolie gasped, trying to move her arms. Mabel started jumping up and down—for a woman in her mid-sixties, she was as strong as a moose.
“Mabel, come on now, let the poor girl go,” Ms. Jo barked from behind Jolie. Mabel obeyed her friend and released her. Feeling like a dishrag wrung dry, Jolie grabbed the porch post for support.
“Thanks,” she wheezed. “I heard you were on a mission trip to Haiti.”
“God was good to let me go. And good to let me come home.” With her hands on her hips, Mabel stared at Jolie, grinning with her whole face. “Jo, ain’t she a sight for sore eyes? I’ve been keepin’ up with you,” she said, not stopping long enough for Ms. Jo to answer her question. “And I saw that horrible accident. Just terrible. It was awful thinking of you trapped under that raging water. It’s a miracle you’re alive. A pure miracle, and don’t you forget it. God’s got plans for you, hon—that’s what it is. Your shirt got caught under there on something, didn’t it?”
Jolie nodded, her stomach turning over. It should have been a common roll maneuver that she’d made in the water thousands of times. But her shirt caught on a wayward limb beneath the water and everything went wrong.
Jolie’s pulse grew shallow and she feared another fainting spell. It was maddening to feel so stinkin’ weak. “I’m thankful to be alive.” She smiled and tried to put a good face on it, hoping they wouldn’t see through her.
“And here you are,” Ms. Jo said, her knowing eyes catching everything. “Home to have Mabel do ya in right here on Main Street.”
“Hush,” Mabel scolded. “I was just excited to see her.”
“That’d be a reason to squeeze the poor girl in half.”
Mabel hiked her chin, gave her friend a warning look, then returned her attention to Jolie. “So how are you? Jo told me you were having some problems from it.”
Of course Ms. Jo would have confided in Mabel. Maybe she’d said something to Nana, too. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now.
“Some.” She cringed. “You know, it
was scary, I’ll admit, and I, well, I thought it was time to take a breather.” She looked from one friend to the other. “And the truth is, I’d been missing the place, and everyone...” Her voice trailed off.
Mabel nodded, her expression empathetic. “Jo told me you’re working at the ranch. Land’s sakes, that was a shocker! How’s that going, you bein’ out there and Morgan, too?”
Mabel never had been one to dance around the elephant in the room. She just walked up to it and grabbed it by the trunk.
“He looks fine—good as ever.” Boy, was that ever an understatement! “He’s not too happy to see me, as you can imagine. So how have you been?” Jolie asked. Time to change the subject.
“As ornery as always,” Ms. Jo grunted.
Jolie chuckled. “You still keeping Nana and Ms. Jo in line?”
“Phassh—me being the ornery one? Those two are the ones who can’t be kept out of trouble.”
“That’s exactly what Nana said about you,” Jolie teased, thinking of her visit with Nana. She was sure that Nana had kept her two friends in the loop about everything after that visit, probably because they were all worried that Jolie was going to break Morgan’s heart again. Of course the man had shields of steel up—his heart was in no danger whatsoever.
“Where’s the fun in staying out of trouble?” Mabel asked with a smile.
Jolie chuckled—it felt so good to see her old friends. It had been strange growing up and not really knowing girls her own age. She’d had the boys at the ranch, and all these ladies—her mother’s friends—whom she’d thought of as grandmothers.
A big white ranch truck rumbled into town and slid into the slanted parking space just in front of them. Nana smiled and waved out the open window, her navy eyes luminous in the early evening sunlight. “Hey, there, gals. Y’all ready? Hey, Jolie girl.”
“As we always are, Ruby Ann,” Ms. Jo said.
“We’re heading up to weed the flower beds at the church. Come with us,” Mabel urged.
“Yes, come,” Nana said, bobbing her hot-pink straw cowgirl hat with a peacock-feather hatband that matched her eyes. “No sense spending the evening up in that room alone. And I brought snacks.” Those were magic words, because even though her lean figure wouldn’t show it, Nana was a master in the kitchen, rivaling Paula Deen with her mouthwatering concoctions.
“Did you bring that spice cake I love for my welcome-home gift?” Mabel asked, winking at Jolie.
Jolie’s heart warmed at their inclusion, her mouth watering when Nana said that she had indeed brought the famed spice cake.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jolie drawled, feeling happier than she had in a while. The only thing that would have made this moment better was if her mother were here, too. Her folks had moved closer to Houston a few years back, to take care of her grandmother, and she didn’t see them very often anymore.
“No way am I passing on that cake and y’all’s great company.” She looked down at her dusty clothes. “I’ve already swum in the dirt today, so why not dig in it?”
“That’s my gal.” Ms. Jo took her arm. “Come on, then, let’s get this horse to a gallop.”
Clucking and yacking away, they piled into Nana’s ranch truck and headed out. Maybe you can go home again. The thought jingled through Jolie like a catchy tune as she settled into the backseat with Mabel, who was eyeing the spice cake in the wicker basket on the seat between them, temptation dancing in her eyes.
They drove past Chili and Drewbaker sitting on their church pew, Nana tooted her horn.
“Honkin’ at your boyfriend, Ruby Ann?” Ms. Jo teased, hiking a brow at Nana.
“Ha!” Nana declared, chuckling right along with the rest of them. “That Chili is barking up the wrong tree when it comes to this ol’ gal. But I do love to tease him.”
They broke into more chatter after that, and Jolie felt good realizing that after everything she’d been through and all the ways she’d changed, Dew Drop was still the warm, wonderful, welcoming place it had always been.
There was comfort in that, and despite her tangled thoughts about Morgan, Jolie settled in for an enjoyable evening with the girls. Maybe hanging with these wise friends would give her some much-needed clarity.
* * *
Monday morning arrived with the resounding confirmation that Morgan hadn’t just dreamed Jolie was back in town and teaching at the ranch. Like a bad headache pounding on the back of his eyes, she’d stayed on his mind all night after she’d taken down that steer and won the heart of every boy on the ranch.
Even the grown-up ones.
It went without saying that he wasn’t in the best of moods when he parked in front of the chow hall. As luck would have it, Jolie came striding out of the building, a cup of coffee in her hand.
Setting his resolve, he climbed from his rig and tipped his hat at her. “Mornin’,” he said, taking in the excitement in her eyes despite the dark circles she’d tried to hide with makeup.
“Good morning. It’s wild in there.” She motioned toward the chow hall. “I thought I’d go get my head on straight before they show up.”
The sudden need to pull her to him, to feel her pressed against his heart, again slammed into him, looking at those circles under her eyes. The woman needed some rest. She’d said she was having nightmares—how bad were they? Obviously bad enough to be damaging.
“Sounds like a plan. They’ll be over there soon enough and then all bets are off for the day. If you have any trouble, I’ll be in my office most of the day.”
Her smile put a catch in his breath. “There will be no trouble. I promise—though I haven’t taught since student teaching, I’m a whole lot less gullible. It’ll be fine.”
Giving him a wink, she headed down the plank sidewalk that ran the length of the chow hall. He just stood there, like a fool, unable to move.
At the end of the sidewalk, she stepped onto the gravel, paused, turning, then gave a hesitant smile. “Thanks, Morgan.”
He watched her go, her long cinnamon hair loose today, swinging like waves of warm spice tea midway down her back.
His jaw tightened. It took him a minute to catch his breath and pull his gaze away. He was one messed-up cowboy—that was the long truth of it all.
The chow hall was buzzing as he strode inside. Excited conversations were easy to pick up on as he headed toward the buffet table—“Jolie” this, “Jolie” that. Their new teacher filled the airwaves.
Not only had she successfully beat Joseph in the mugging—something they all aspired to do—but they were also excited about her kayaking, just like he’d suspected. Yep, it was more than clear they thought she was pretty awesome.
But would they still think she was awesome when she headed off into the sunset, leaving them all behind, standing in the dust?
A sudden poke in the ribs halted his downward-spiraling thoughts. Turning, he found his grandmother holding a spatula in her hand.
“Those eyebrows of yours are going to grow together if they get any closer. And that frown is never a good sign this early in the morning.”
Morgan grunted. “Mornin’, Nana. It sure smells good in here.”
Nana’s cheeks were rosy red from the kitchen heat. Tilting her head to one side, she crossed her red-sleeved arms over an apron that proclaimed, Cooked with love—so hug me!
“At least you noticed.” A teasing undertone matched the twinkle in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you were even with us. Saw you talkin’ to Jolie out there. If her being back has got you this shook up, then I’m not sure you’re going to make it till the end of the semester.”
“Nana.”
“No one heard me. Now, really, are you okay?” Her Texas drawl was thick as the syrup the boys were fighting over at the end of the buffet line.
“Just concerned for the boys.”
“They’re doing fine. Stop worrying.” She looked over at Sammy and B.J., whose syrup tug-of-war had gotten a little out of hand. “We’ll talk about this later,” Nana said, then turned her attention to the boys. “Hey, fellas, hold your horses! Do y’all think that syrup is the last syrup on earth?”
The boys halted in their battle, blinking at Nana in confusion, still clutching the syrup bottle between them.
“Well, don’t just blink at me like a couple of owls. Answer my question like gentlemen. Sammy, what do you think? Is that the last bottle of syrup on earth?”
The kid swallowed like he had a biscuit stuck in his throat. “I don’t figure so.”
“Ma’am,” Nana reminded him.
“Ma’am,” Sammy added quickly.
“And what about you, B.J.—what’s your answer?”
The younger boy cleared his throat. “Ma’am, Ms. Nana, it probably ain’t. Only it’s the only one I see.”
Nana put her hands to her hips and her lips twitched at the corners. “You are both right. There is a lot more syrup in the kitchen, so I don’t think you have anything to fight over. Thank the good Lord for your blessings and share that bottle or you’ll both be eating your pancakes with no syrup at all.”
Sammy was the first to let go. “Yes, ma’am. Are you sure there’s enough?”
Morgan patted Sammy’s shoulder. “There’s plenty, so no more fighting.”
“Sammy started it,” B.J. offered, dousing his pancakes. “But he’s new and ain’t learned we got it good here.”
Nana met Morgan’s gaze with grateful eyes. He knew that it meant so much to her to be here for these boys and all the others who’d come through the foster care program to live here with them. He felt the same way. But he had his work cut out for him with Sammy.
Her Unforgettable Cowboy Page 6