Boots and The Rogue: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 10

by Myla Jackson

  With her heart pounding like a manic bass drum, she sucked in a deep breath and stared up at the cowboy who’d saved her twice that day. Her face was so close to his, she could lean forward a little bit and their lips would touch.

  Brody’s jaw was set, strong and peppered with a dark beard shadow, and his lips were full and…and…downright kissable. She trembled with the effort to resist his mouth. She’d never been that tempted by a man. Although she’d lost her virginity as a teen, she had little experience with men, other than a bit of kissing, groping in the dark and finally sex that left her feeling like there ought to be more.

  Brody, on the other hand, seemed like he’d be the “more” she’d been expecting those other times she’d gotten intimate with men.

  She glanced up, her heart fluttering when she realized he’d been staring at her mouth as well.

  Jessie swept her tongue across her bottom lip.

  “You really should be more careful,” he said.

  His arms tightened and he crushed her to him, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that rocked her to her core.

  Jessie’s lips parted on a gasp and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping past her teeth to plunder her own, thrusting and caressing in a mind-blowingly sensual dance.

  When he finally broke it off, Brody stared down at her, his heart thumping against her arm, his breathing as ragged as hers.

  As if realizing what he’d just done, he all but dropped her to the ground.

  Unprepared for the sudden movement, she almost lost her grip on the bottle of Patrón.

  Brody cinched his arms around her waist until she steadied, then he stepped away. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He held up his hands. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Stunned speechless, Jessie rubbed the back of her hand across her swollen lips, wondering what just happened. For a moment, she’d forgotten everything, including the fact she had lost her home, job and car that day, and almost dropped a bottle of Patrón that was worth more than she probably had earned that night.

  Pulling herself up to her full five feet eight inches, when her knees wanted to buckle, Jessie faked a bravado she certainly didn’t feel. “Right. Make sure it doesn’t.”

  He nodded, grabbed the two bottles of Patrón and left her alone in the storeroom.

  The whole idea of going to work at the Rafter M Ranch was looking like a huge mistake, but what other choice did she have? She had to limit her mistakes by not kissing one of her bosses. It compromised her ability to think clearly.

  “That’s right. Don’t kiss me again,” she whispered through her tingling lips. “Because if you do, I’m likely to throw in the second and third bases. Hell, why not go for a home run?”

  Chapter Four

  Brody woke early the next day and crept out of the bed before light. He’d been up late talking with his mother. She’d refused to give in on her demands insisting her boys get on with their lives or she’d sell the ranch and get on with hers. If she’d been on this kick for more than a couple weeks, the two weeks he’d promised Angus might not be enough to convince his mother to change her mind.

  He wanted to get to the hunting cabin, dump his gear there and return before the rest of the house woke. If he had to stay longer than two weeks, he couldn’t fall behind on his work. He’d put in a call to his agent the previous evening to tell her he’d be in Texas until further notice.

  Knowing Sharon, she’d have Dallas galleries lined up to display his efforts within the next couple of weeks. Brody wasn’t sure he wanted to display work this close to home. The creative side of him was something he’d never shared with his macho cowboy brothers.

  Before moving to Seattle, he’d been equally active on the ranch—training horses, mending fences and the myriad of tasks associated with raising cattle. But he had another side that he didn’t tap into until he left behind the Rafter M Ranch.

  When he got the call from Colin that his mother was sick, he’d loaded his truck with the items he normally carried out to the Washington coastline—his camera, toolbox, collapsible easel and canvases. Used to painting outside of his studio, it was easy to pack the items in a matter of minutes and hit the road south.

  Now, he had to find a place he could set up and leave his things ready for any time he could find to be alone. He wouldn’t be home for any longer than it took to convince his mother to back off on her threat to sell the ranch, but he had personal and contractual deadlines he couldn’t ignore for any length of time.

  Though he’d been away for eight years, he still considered the Rafter M Ranch home. The thought of his mother selling the ranch hit him harder than he’d let on to his brothers. This place held memories of his youth, his father and the happiness of growing up wild and free.

  Sure, they’d worked hard next to their father, learning from his example. But they’d had time to ride like the wind, swim in the creek and make forts out of the tumbleweeds that blew in from West Texas.

  If his mother sold the place, all he would have were faded memories and no place to come home to.

  Brody stepped out onto the porch. The stars still shone bright overhead, with only the faintest gray light appearing on the eastern horizon. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to unload his supplies and get back before the others woke. Brody tiptoed down the steps and climbed into his pickup.

  Holding his breath, he cranked the truck’s engine and drove, without his headlights, around to the back of the house where the barn stood. Brody shifted into Park, got out, opened the gate to the north pasture and drove his truck through. There weren’t any cows close by, but he stopped to close the gate, just in case.

  After fifteen minutes of driving slowly over the bumpy dirt road, he arrived at the hunting cabin his grandfather had built fifty years ago. For a long moment, he stared through the windshield. The building was solid and had been structurally maintained, but could use a coat of paint to preserve the exterior wood siding.

  With a sigh, Brody dropped down from the truck, carried a battery-powered lantern inside and switched it on, chasing back the majority of shadows.

  A coat of dust covered every surface, including the dust cover draped over the old mattress on the iron bed in the corner. Thankfully, the ceiling showed no signs of roof leakage. The building would suffice to store his supplies and he’d work outdoors, taking advantage of the long summer days.

  Unloading his truck, he set up his easel and stacked canvases against the wall. It didn’t take long, and then he was back in his truck, headed to the ranch house and a hearty breakfast made by the new ranch cook.

  Jessie.

  He still had doubts about bringing the woman on board at the Rafter M Ranch.

  The night before, Brody had stood back while his brothers made a big production of loading Jessie’s horse, Scout, into the trailer and tying him off inside to keep him from hurting himself.

  “Damned ugly horse,” Brody had muttered for the third time, convinced eating three meals a day at the diner in Temptation would be less complicated than hiring Jessie Taylor as the ranch cook.

  When Audrey had given her the all clear to leave, Jessie had changed out of the soft-leather dress into her jeans and T-shirt. Even though her legs had been covered in denim, he could still picture the smooth skin and toned muscles.

  Jessie had supervised the whole loading process, concerned more for her horse than for herself.

  Angus had offered to let her sit in the front seat of the truck, but she’d insisted on taking a rear seat, to be closer to the trailer. Brody hurriedly had climbed in next to her to keep Colin from claiming the spot.

  His mother had welcomed her like the daughter she never had, ushering her through the door and upstairs to the guest bedroom beside the master suite.

  Exhausted, Brody had cornered his mother when she came down. After their brief, and frustrating, conversation, he’d hit the shower and gone straight to bed. He hadn’t seen or heard from Jessie since.

  His s
tomach growled as he parked his truck at the back of the house and climbed down, sniffing the air for the scent of frying bacon. He hoped Jessie was up cooking breakfast, though he didn’t smell anything.

  Gray light crept across the sky as he let himself in through the back door leading into the kitchen.

  The lights were off and nothing was on the stove or in the oven. He found no sign of Jessie or anyone else.

  Angus padded barefoot into the kitchen wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He stretched and yawned before asking, “Where’s Jessie? I thought she’d be up making breakfast by now.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Angus frowned. “You’re up early. Isn’t it still four thirty in the morning in Seattle?”

  Brody shrugged. “I slept enough.”

  Colin appeared behind Angus. “What’s for breakfast?” He ran a hand through his hair and craned his neck to see around his brother. “Where’s Jessie?”

  “Did anyone bother to tell her what time we have breakfast around here?” Brody asked.

  Angus glanced at Colin. “I didn’t, did you?”

  Colin shook his head. “No.”

  “She went to bed as soon as we got home,” Brody said.

  “I’ll go knock on her door and let her know we’re ready for food.” Colin started for the stairs.

  “I’ll take care of it. Between the two of you, you ought to be able to figure out the coffeemaker.”

  Brody took the stairs two at a time, hurried down the hallway to the guest bedroom and knocked firmly three times.

  Nothing stirred behind the door; no sounds came from within. Perhaps she was a heavy sleeper. He knocked again.

  The door to the master suite opened and his mother emerged wearing her bathrobe and blinking sleep from her eyes. “What’s all the commotion?”

  “Just waking Jessie to start breakfast.”

  “She’s a quiet sleeper. After she showered, I didn’t hear a peep out of her all night.” His mother covered her mouth as she yawned. “Want me to check on her?”

  “Please.” Brody stepped to the side.

  Maggie McFarlan knocked and called out, “Jessie, honey, it’s time to get up.”

  She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Jessie?”

  Brody stepped past his mother into the room. The bed was neatly made, as if it hadn’t been slept in. What few clothes she’d brought with her hung neatly in the closet, but there was no sign of Jessie.

  “What the hell?” If she hadn’t slept in her room, where the hell had she slept?

  He went back down the stairs to the main level and checked the living room. Empty.

  Angus and Colin met him at the kitchen door. “Is she getting up?”

  Brody frowned. “She never went to sleep in her room and she’s not in the house.”

  As one, the three of them looked at each other.

  “The barn,” Brody said. “She was more worried about her horse than herself.”

  “I’ll get my boots.” Angus left the kitchen.

  “Me too.” Colin followed his older brother.

  Brody didn’t wait. He left the house and jogged to the barn.

  Once inside, he flipped the light switch on the wall and crossed to the stall where they’d taken Scout. He peered over the gate and didn’t see anything but the brindle-colored horse. Then a movement directly below him caught his attention.

  Jessie lay curled on a tattered horse blanket laid over a pile of straw. Her hair had escaped her ponytail and spread out over the blanket, with a few pieces of straw caught in the strands.

  For a long moment Brody took in the image of the fresh-faced woman, her skin softly tanned, dark eyelashes making shadowy crescents on her cheeks. For a tall woman with enough grit to punch him in the face, she appeared vulnerable and lonely, lying in the stall with the only friend she had. Her horse.

  Footsteps pounded toward the barn, shaking Brody from the trance.

  He opened the door to the stall and bent to touch Jessie’s shoulder. “Hey.”

  Her eyes blinked open and she smiled up at him, her first unguarded smile and it practically lit the inside of the barn, filling Brody’s chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice like smooth gravel. “What time is it?” She stretched her long arms and legs, pulling the shirt she wore tight over her breasts.

  “Six thirty.”

  “Oh!” Her eyes widened and she sat up. “I meant to be up and cooking by now.”

  She jumped to her feet, tripped on the blanket and pitched forward into Brody’s arms.

  He caught her and held her steady until she got her boot free of the blanket. With her hands planted against his chest, she glanced up, her lips soft from sleep and more temptation than Brody could stand.

  Despite the promise he’d made the previous night, he bent to capture those lips.

  The barn door slammed open. “Brody, did you find her?” Angus called out.

  Jessie pushed away from him and straightened her shirt.

  “She’s here,” Brody responded, reaching out to pluck the straw from her hair.

  “I’m so sorry. I had every intention of being up first to start breakfast. Just let me wash up and I’ll get right to it.” She hurried past Brody, Angus and Colin and headed for the house.

  The men stood still for a moment, their gazes following the woman.

  “Where did you find her?” Colin asked.

  “Asleep in the stall with her horse.” Brody shook his head.

  “I wonder why she didn’t feel comfortable in the house,” Angus said.

  “I think she was more concerned about her horse adapting to a new environment than she was.” Colin chuckled. “She’s a strange one.”

  Brody agreed. They knew so little about where she’d come from and why she’d shown up at the Ugly Stick Saloon on a horse with only a few things to call her own. For all they knew, she could be a criminal on the run and they’d invited her into their home without any kind of background check.

  “We might as well take care of the animals before breakfast, seeing as Jessie hasn’t even started it yet.”

  Angus grabbed a bucket and filled it with feed. Colin separated several sections of hay and distributed it among the horses in the stalls. Brody headed out to feed the chickens and hogs, the motions natural, like eight years hadn’t passed since he’d done the same chores. The only difference was the woman added to the mix. The image of her lying in the stall, sleeping peacefully, with her hair almost the same color of the straw, resonated in his mind.

  His fingers itched to get to his paints, but that would have to wait until he could slip away.

  Jessie raced into the kitchen, her heart pounding, not from running but from almost kissing Brody, her new boss. Hell, maybe Imelda had it right and she was a hussy looking to attack the men around her. Only it wasn’t all the men. Angus and Colin were every bit as handsome as Brody, but Jessie saw something different in Brody’s eyes that she didn’t see in Angus’s or Colin’s. They were brothers—all tall, breathtakingly handsome and rugged the way Jessie preferred men.

  But Brody, with those brooding, dangerous looks…wow.

  When he’d woken her in the barn, she’d fallen into his arms and practically kissed him.

  Jessie pressed her hands to her heated cheeks and hurried upstairs to the bathroom where she splashed water on her face and washed her hands. One look in the mirror made her groan. Her hair stuck out and had straw mixed in with it. Some impression she was making. Late to work her first day on the job, looking like a scarecrow.

  She ran to her room, jerked a brush through her hair and secured it with a ponytail. Then she hurried down to the kitchen, anxious to get started. Three hungry men wouldn’t be very patient.

  After banging around in all the cabinets, she located a couple of skillets, some pancake mix and a mixing bowl. The refrigerator held a dozen eggs and a half a gallon of milk. Surely she could whip up something to g
et by until she got more familiar with the kitchen and cooking on anything other than a grill. The ranch where her father had been foreman had a cook who specialized in providing meals for a dozen hungry men.

  Jessie hadn’t learned to cook eggs until her father passed away and she’d been forced to find other accommodations. Even then, working in a boarding stable, living in the office, she’d had only a hot plate to cook on and ended up making sandwiches for practically every meal or heating soup.

  How hard could it be to make breakfast for the five of them? All she had to do was follow the directions on the back of the pancake-mix box. Right?

  She mixed the ingredients for a batch of pancakes and poured some into the skillet. So far, so good.

  Jessie turned on the burner and flames leaped up beneath the pan.

  Pancakes cooking, she turned to the rest of the eggs in the carton and cracked them into a bowl, fishing out the fragments of shells that had found their way into the mix. The fragrant scent of pancakes cooking filled the air.

  By the time she had all of the eggs in the bowl, something tickled her nose, and then stung her nose, and she turned toward the stove where smoke billowed from the skillet.

  “Crap!” Jessie fanned the smoke, trying to get to the pan to remove the burning pancake.

  Her eyes stinging so badly she could barely keep them open, Jessie managed to turn off the burner and remove the pan from the stove. With the pan still hot, the pancake continued to burn.

  “Damn, damn, damn!”

  She grabbed the pan, shoved it beneath the kitchen faucet and turned on the water. Steam mixed with the smoke filling the kitchen. Jessie reached over the sink and opened the window, grabbed a dishtowel and started fanning to help remove the smoke from the kitchen before the men returned to the house and the disaster she’d created.

  “Oh dear.”

  Jessie spun.

  Mrs. McFarlan stood behind her.

  Between the smoke and her failed attempt at cooking pancakes for the men, Jessie’s eyes filled. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry. Her father would be so disappointed. He’d always thought she could handle anything if she set her mind to it.