Ross sat up straight. “My grandpop used to say something similar.” He took a deep breath and stood up. He needed more time to think. “Thank you,” he said, holding out his hand.
Pastor Allen rose and took his hand with a firm grip. “Let’s have that prayer before you go. And then, why don’t you stay for the service?”
Sugar was surprised to see Ross sitting in the sanctuary when the service started. She’d been afraid he’d left after Norma Sue and Esther Mae’s impromptu performance, and she’d felt guilty all through Sunday school. When she saw him sitting on the far side of the sanctuary, as he had the week before, she wanted to go over and apologize. But she didn’t know if she’d be welcomed, so she sat a few rows back, beside Molly again.
Sugar was tired. And she felt the sting of guilt every time she glanced at Ross’s back. She prayed during the service that God would lead her. It was an awkward prayer.
The sermon was on giving up your will for God’s will, giving everything to God. Well, she was trying. All her life, she’d worked so hard to fulfill this dream she had, this purpose to which she felt God had called her. And it wasn’t easy, especially when she felt He wasn’t doing much to help.
When the last hymn was over, she looked across the church and was startled to see Ross moving toward her.
His beautiful emerald eyes were not happy, and that was worrisome, too. Was her dream supposed to make someone else so miserable? She said goodbye to Molly and a few other friends around her and waited for him to reach her. Her stomach felt like the inside of a blender as she waited for the inevitable confrontation.
He stopped in the aisle, holding his Stetson between both hands, his back ramrod straight. “Would you have lunch with me?”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. She stared up at him and said the only thing that came to mind. “Okay.”
Chapter Ten
Ross’s house was lovely, older, with a neat yard and a beautiful patio made of sandstone and granite. She had a vivid picture of cozy gatherings with friends as she followed him across the terrace and into the kitchen.
He held the door open for her and she was all nerves as she brushed past him. He’d asked her to lunch, said they needed to talk, and she had agreed, hoping this was a good sign. But he’d been quiet on the drive out to his home, and that quietness had her feeling as if she’d stepped on stage without memorizing her lines.
His kitchen was spacious, with wood floors and walnut cabinetry. “You have a wonderful place,” she said, wishing her insides didn’t feel so twisted every time she looked at him.
“Thanks, I’ve done some work on it.”
“You did this yourself?” She was startled. Ross didn’t look like Mr. Fixit.
“Don’t be so surprised. Cowboys like to use tools,” he said, and the tension between them seemed to ease a bit. He smiled at her. “Clint Matlock and I have a little competition going when it comes to outdoing each other.”
Sugar looked at the kitchen with new eyes. “Wow, I’m impressed. Every time I think I might have you figured out, you prove me wrong.”
“I feel the same way about you.” He held her gaze with unsmiling eyes.
That look did erratic things to Sugar’s heartbeat, and what little ease in tension she’d felt seconds ago dissipated right away.
He turned toward the sink. “Make yourself at home. Are steaks okay with you?”
“I love steak.” Her voice sounded odd, too high. “But you could feed me a sandwich if you wanted to. That would get me out of your hair quicker.”
He chuckled, and she almost wilted with relief. “I’m serious,” she said, watching him wash his hands. The man really had nice hands, strong arms. She remembered how they felt wrapped around her when he’d saved her at the beaver dam…. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t think about those strong arms.
He looked straight at her. “I’ll feed you steak.”
How was it that a man telling her he’d feed her steak could please her so much? She smiled at him. “Okay. But put me to work. What can I do? And by the way,” she added, feeling as if it needed to be said, “I didn’t put Norma Sue and Esther Mae up to that this morning.”
An awful thought occurred to her. He might be feeding her steak to soften the blow of telling her in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t use his barn. Kind of like a last meal or something. After all, he had been highly upset after being accosted by the ladies.
He nodded. “That’s good to hear, but what do you say we not talk about that for now?”
“Okay. I just wanted you to know. So what can I do?” If he hadn’t invited her over to talk about that, then she wasn’t sure what they were doing. But oddly enough, she realized she was fine with that. She was curious about this man, and whether things went her way with his barn or not, she wanted to have this time to know him a little better.
“I’m not much of a salad guy, so there isn’t anything in the fridge to fix one. But there’s some canned stuff in the pantry if you want to go pick something out to go with steak and potatoes.” He pointed toward the appropriate door.
“That sounds good to me,” Sugar said, and headed that way, feeling a bit surreal about the entire situation. The pantry was a large walk-in with floor-to-ceiling shelves. In the dim light, she could see that one entire side was loaded with glass jars of food.
“The light switch is by the door on the left,” he called.
“Thanks.” She flipped the switch, and immediately let out a low whistle. “Whoa. This is some serious canning. Did you put all this up?” She was amazed by the jars. There were all sorts of things marked with various colored labels. Many of them appeared to be pickles: sour, dill, sweet, sweet and sour. There were also pickled pears, pickled peppers, pickled…she had to get up close to read that one…zucchini. There were icicle pickles, whatever in the world those were, squash pickles, pickled carrots, pickled relish, pear relish, cranberry relish, jalapeño relish, corn relish…Ross’s chuckle finally interrupted her dazed inventory of his pickled goods. “Who are you? Peter Piper?” she asked.
“Looks that way. It’s something, isn’t it? My grandmother in Missouri is a canning queen, and the ladies here are, too. Cucumbers, squash and zucchini are things gardeners always have an overabundance of, so you see where it all ends up. If you think that’s something, you should take a look at my freezer.”
“You’ll never eat all this. And if you even tried, you’d pickle yourself.” Sugar grabbed a jar of green beans, un-pickled, and a jar of squash, and went back to the kitchen.
“Tell me about it. My gram, she just keeps sending it. Doesn’t want me to starve while I’m here without a wife.” He shook his head. “It makes her happy, but when I get married I’m calling a halt to the canning thing. Take what you want when you leave, and stock your pantry. Although I’m surprised you haven’t already started getting baskets of the stuff.”
“Maybe it’s just you cowboys that they want to keep from starving.”
“Maybe. To tell you the truth, I’m not crazy about anything pickled.”
They laughed and he prepared the steaks while she opened the jars and started heating the contents. Then they headed outside so he could fire up the pit. She’d never been much of a griller, and watched with interest as he got the fire going. She felt more at ease than she had before, and Ross seemed to relax, also.
“So your grandmother who sends you all this food, is she part of the show?”
He shook his head as he pulled the hood down on the pit. “No. She always said she married the talent. But her job is important. She oversees the costumes and runs the front office.”
Sugar could hear the affection in his voice. “Don’t get mad at me, but honestly, I still don’t get how you could walk away from that.”
He leaned against the porch rail and looped his thumb in the pocket of his jeans. “There are times when I miss it. After as many years as I spent up on that stage, it’s to be expected. I was singing with Grandpop
when I was four. But it stopped satisfying me. I wanted something of my own. Something that I built myself…. I got that from Grandpop. This is it for me. This ranch either makes it or it doesn’t because of what I do. Of course, there’s the God factor in the equation. He’s got to be in the wagon with me, and I believe He is, but I’m willing to adapt if He throws me a curveball. I hope this is my final destination. I feel at peace here. A wife and kids will probably shake the peace up a bit, but should make it a whole lot more enjoyable.”
Sugar could see that.
“So what if God decided to throw you that curveball?” he asked. “Are you ready to adapt if it means finding happiness?”
Why did she suddenly feel as if she was being tested? “So you are about to tell me the same thing my parents tell me. That God probably isn’t interested in my being an actress.”
“Is that what they say?”
She walked to the porch railing beside him and studied the horizon. “Not in so many words. But they clearly don’t support my dream. It’s not in the safe box, remember.” She couldn’t hide her bitterness. “Acting is not considered worthwhile. It doesn’t matter that movies give hours and hours of joy and entertainment to people.”
“So there’s a strain between you?”
Again she expelled a breath of frustration. They’d already talked about this, and she’d told Ross more than she’d ever told anyone. “No. They try to accept me, but there are small things that happen. Like they never came to visit me while I was in California. They always hint that I should come home. They’re just waiting for me to fail.”
She had her hand resting on the railing when Ross suddenly covered it with his and squeezed gently. Her stomach went bottomless. Though he let go almost immediately, the action touched her deeply.
“Maybe they’re just worried about you.” His voice was soft. “Like you told me the other day, you’ve chosen a field with a high rate of failure, full of intense stress and constant struggle. The rewards can be great one day and then gone the next. Your parents see what happens to stars in the tabloids. I’m sure it’s hard on them. It’s not exactly the same thing as going into teaching or medicine.”
She felt an ache deep in her soul. “Yes, I understand that. I just wish they believed in me.”
“I’m playing devil’s advocate here, but might they simply be afraid for you?”
She gave a derisive laugh. “I’m afraid for myself at this point.” She couldn’t believe she’d just admitted that. And to Ross, of all people.
“And that is why I’m asking the hard question again. What if you don’t make it? Isn’t it time to think about that possibility? What if you have God’s intentions mixed up with your own?”
Again, she had that sense of being tested. She thought of the voice of doubt that kept coming out of the shadows, telling her to lay it down. “I don’t. And I won’t quit. I refuse to believe that all these years were wasted. That He put this desire inside me only for it to mean nothing. That’s not acceptable to me. Besides, there’s that Bible verse that says He will give us the delights of our hearts. This is the delight of my heart. Plus, despite all the things that haven’t gone my way since I arrived, producing the show here feels right. It just seems like I’m supposed to be here. I know this is my last shot, but I feel like it’s the right one. Do you understand that? All I need is a little help—from you.”
He studied her for a long moment. “So, what would you say if I agreed to let you use the barn?”
Time stopped, as if the world were holding its breath. She wanted this so much, it was almost too hard to believe. Ross had sounded so against it with all those questions he’d asked. Was he finally about to relent?
“Seriously?” she asked. The ladies had winked at church, all sure of themselves, but truly, Sugar had begun to think he wasn’t ever going to come around.
He nodded. “Like a herd of women have been pointing out to me, it is just sitting there, wasting away. Waiting on a second life.” He smiled.
She reacted with delight and relief, flinging her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. “Thank you! Thank you!” she squealed in his ear. His arms went around her and he hugged her back, laughing at her excitement. She just couldn’t believe it.
Could not believe it.
“Hey,” he chuckled against her hair. “You might not thank me once you hear my terms.”
Terms?
Chapter Eleven
“Terms, terms, who cares? You’re the best, Ross Denton.” She looked up at him, realizing that she’d just thrown herself into his arms. Judging by the expression on his face, he was just as surprised as she. His arms tensed around her and she noticed they were close enough to kiss. Her eyes drifted to his lips, the moment stalled and every thought vaporized into thin air.
Oh, no, girl! She pulled back and he let her go easily. But as she moved away from him, her thoughts were spinning. And to her dismay, she wished for nothing more than to feel his arms around her, pulling her close again as he kissed her.
Crazy. Crazier than crazy. Now more than ever, it was imperative that she maintain a professional relationship.
“My terms are,” he said, clearing his throat and raking a hand through his hair, “that I’ll help, but you’ll have to take my advice. Because I still don’t believe you have the slightest notion about what you are getting yourself into.”
That was no joke, she thought, as her eyes cried mutiny and dropped to his lips. “I agree,” she finally said. At that moment, she’d agree to anything. The man was letting her use his barn. That was all that mattered. She focused, and took a deep breath. She wasn’t worried. She would be able to get him to see things her way once they got going. The key thing was just getting started.
For that alone she wanted to kiss him.
Who was she kidding—she just wanted to kiss him, period.
And that was not happening. No way. Not at all.
“Well, I guess you should check those steaks and I had better go check on those pickled prunes, or whatever it is I put on the stove. And—and then we can talk.” She hurried away as if she were being chased by a pack of beavers.
“If there are prunes in there, you’re on your own,” he called after her.
“Hey, I’m so happy right now that I might eat them.”
On Monday morning, everyone was buzzing about Ross teaming up with Sugar.
“Now I just have to convince him to be the hero in my production,” she announced.
Haley groaned from across the office. “You are relentless. The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s unleashed. But I have to say that I think you and him together on stage would be a combustible duo.”
Even though she was thinking the same thing, Sugar snapped shut the file she was going through and gave her boss a “don’t even think about it” look. She was hoping the message would translate to her own brain. Stop thinking about it!
“You know you like him. I can see it in your eyes when y’all argue.”
Sugar took heart in the truth. “That is exactly it. We don’t see eye to eye much. And I’m afraid this new venture is going to get pretty heated sometimes. The man may have finally given in, but the fact remains that he is mule stubborn.”
“Ha. And you aren’t?”
“Well, yeah, I’m stubborn, but so what? I don’t believe that stuff about how much fun making up can be.”
Haley rolled her eyes and opened the door to leave. “Believe me when I tell you that making up is a lot of fun. But that’s not the point, and you know it. If you would give him half a chance, you might find out how much y’all have in common.”
Oh, she was more tempted to do just that. More tempted than she could afford to let herself admit. But she wasn’t about to let Haley know that, so she just grunted. “What? That I want to be an actor and he doesn’t?”
“Well, maybe you’re right about that. But I can’t help thinking you two might actually find some happy medium in all of this. Okay, gotta fly.�
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Haley hurried to her car and Sugar went back to work. But she couldn’t help glancing at the clock first. Just a few more hours, and then she was meeting Ross at the barn. Her barn. She could barely contain herself, just thinking about it.
An hour or so later, Applegate and Stanley came into the office. They stopped just inside the doorway and fidgeted, reminding her of two little boys. “Mornin’, Sugar,” they said almost in unison, and nearly blew out the windows. Apparently, neither had their hearing aids turned on.
“Good morning. What can I do for you fellas?”
“It’s what we can do fer you,” Applegate barked.
“Yup, you tell her, App,” Stanley said, nudging him with an elbow.
“Fer these here shows, you were a talkin’ about how you were gonna need lights, right?”
Sugar nodded. “Sure.” She hoped to locate some large spotlights soon. She had a friend in L.A. scouting out used ones.
“And you need somebody to run them and the sound? We figure we could handle ’em fer ya.”
Had she heard them right? Sugar sat up straighter and looked from one man to the other. Applegate yanked on his waistband and then stood with his thin shoulders back, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. Stanley ran a hand over his thinning hair and rocked back on his heels. Both men were nodding.
“But—”
Applegate waved a hand. “Now, Sugar, ‘but’ ain’t what we come ta hear you say. We’re stinkin’ bored ta death.”
“This re-tarment’s about ta kill us,” Stanley snapped. “We thank this’ll work, and we know we kin do the job. Sounds kinda fun.”
Their offer touched her. And really, what did she have to lose? She rose slowly. They wanted to help and she needed all of that she could get. She’d worry about their technical “know-how” later. “I can’t pay much. And the hours are going to be long some days and sporadic on others.”
Applegate’s bushy brows met as he looked from Stanley to her. “That means we’re hired?”
The Cowboy Takes a Bride Page 9