Hard to Handle

by Diana Palmer

  “Hey, Johnny!” she greeted, standing on the top rung of the wooden fence in old jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved blue checked shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She looked about twelve.

  He grinned back. “Hey, Jodie! Come to see my babies?”

  “Sure have!”

  “Ain’t they purty?” he drawled, joining her at the fence, where she was feeding her eyes on the pretty little white-faced, red-coated calves.

  “Yes, they are,” she agreed with a sigh. “I miss this up in Houston. The closest I get to cattle is the rodeo when it comes to town.”

  He winced. “You poor kid,” he said. “You lost everything at once, all them years ago.”

  That was true. She’d lost her parents and her home, all at once. If Alexander hadn’t gotten her into business college, where she could live on campus, she’d have been homeless.

  She smiled down at him. “Time heals even the worst wounds, Johnny. Besides, I still get to come down here and visit once in a while.”

  He looked irritated. “Wish you came more than that Dane woman,” he said under his breath. “Can’t stand cattle and dust, don’t like cowboys, looks at us like we’d get her dirty just by speaking to her.”

  She reached over and patted him gently on the shoulder. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

  He sighed. “I reckon so. Why don’t you move back down here?” he added. “Plenty of jobs going in Jacobsville right now. I hear tell the police chief needs a new secretary.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not going to work for Cash Grier,” she assured him. “They said his last secretary emptied the trash can over his head, and it was full of half-empty coffee cups and coffee grounds.”

  “Well, some folks don’t take to police work,” he said, but he chuckled.

  “Nothing to do, Johnny?” came a deep, terse voice from behind Jodie.

  Johnny straightened immediately. “Just started mucking out the stable, boss. I only came over to say howdy to Miss Jodie.”

  “Good to see you again, Johnny,” she said.

  “Same here, miss.”

  He tipped his hat and went slowly back into the barn.

  “Don’t divert the hired help,” Alexander said curtly.

  She got down from the fence. It was a long way up to his eyes in her flat shoes. “He was a friend of my father’s,” she reminded him. “I was being polite.”

  She turned and started back into the house.

  “Running away?”

  She stopped and faced him. “I’m not going to be your whipping boy,” she said.

  His eyebrows arched. “Wrong gender.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re furious that Derek’s here, and Kirry’s not, and you want somebody to take it out on.”

  He moved restlessly at the accusation. His scowl was suddenly darker. “Don’t do that.”

  She knew what he meant. She could always see through his bad temper to the reason for it, something his own sister had never been able to do.

  “Derek will leave in the morning and Kirry will be here by afternoon,” she said. “Derek can’t do that much damage in a night. Besides, you know how close he and Margie are.”

  “He’s too flighty for her, distant relation or not,” he muttered.

  She sighed, looking up at him with quiet, soft eyes full of memories. “Like me,” she said under her breath.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “That’s always been your main argument against me—that I’m too flighty. That’s why you didn’t like it when Derek was trying to get me to go out with him three years ago,” she reminded him.

  He stared at her for a few seconds, still scowling. “Did I say that?”

  She nodded then turned away. “I’ve got to go help Margie organize the food and drinks,” she added. “Left to her own devices, we’ll be eating turkey and bacon roll-ups and drinking spring water.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked amusedly.

  “A nice baked chicken with garlic-and-chives mashed potatoes, fruit salad, homemade rolls and biscuits, gravy, fresh asparagus and a chocolate pound cake for dessert,” she said absently.

  “You can cook?” he asked, astonished.

  She glared at him over one shoulder. “You didn’t notice? Margie hasn’t cooked a meal any time I’ve been down here for the weekend, except for one barbecue that the cowboys roasted a side of beef for.”

  He didn’t say another word, but he looked unusually thoughtful.

  The meal came out beautifully. By the time she had it on the table, Jodie was flushed from the heat of the kitchen and her hair was disheveled, but she’d produced a perfect meal.

  Margie enthused over the results with every dish she tasted, and so did Derek. Alexander was unusually quiet. He finished his chocolate pound cake and a second cup of coffee before he gave his sister a dark look.

  “You told me you’d been doing all the cooking when Jessie wasn’t here and Jodie was,” he said flatly.

  Margie actually flushed. She dropped her fork and couldn’t meet Jodie’s surprised glance.

  “You always made such a fuss of extra company when Jessie was gone,” she protested without realizing she was only making things worse.

  Alexander’s teeth ground together when he saw the look on Jodie’s face. He threw down his napkin and got noisily to his feet. “You’re as insensitive as a cactus plant, Margie,” he said angrily.

  “You’re better?” she retorted, with her eyebrows reaching for her hairline. “You’re the one who always complains when I invite Jodie, even though she hasn’t got any family except us…oh, dear.”

  Jodie had already gotten to her own feet and was collecting dirty dishes. She didn’t respond to the bickering. She felt it, though. It hurt to know that Alexander barely tolerated her; almost as much as it hurt to know Margie had taken credit for her cooking all these years.

  “I’ll help you clear, darlin’,” Derek offered with a meaningful look at the Cobbs. “Both of you could use some sensitivity training. You just step all over Jodie’s feelings without the least notice. Some ‘second family’ you turned out to be!”

  He propelled Jodie ahead of him into the kitchen and closed the door. For once, he looked angry.

  She smiled at him. “Don’t take it so personally, Derek,” she said. “Insults just bounce off me. I’m so used to Alexander by now that I hardly listen.”

  He tilted her chin up and read the pain in her soft eyes. “He walks on your heart every time he speaks to you,” he said bluntly. “He doesn’t even know how you feel, when a blind man could see it.”

  She patted his cheek. “You’re a nice man, Derek.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always been a nice man, for all the good it does me. Women flock to hang all over Cobb while he glowers and insults them.”

  “Someday a nice, sweet woman will come along and take you in hand, and thank God every day for you,” she told him.

  He chuckled. “Want to take me on?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re very sweet, but I’ve got my eye on a rather nice man at my office. He’s sweet, too, and his girlfriend treats him like dirt. He deserves someone better.”

  “He’d be lucky to get you,” Derek said.

  She smiled.

  They were frozen in that affectionate tableau when the door opened and Alexander exploded into the room. He stopped short, obviously unsettled by what he thought he was seeing. Especially when Jodie jerked her hand down from Derek’s cheek, and he let go of her chin.

  “Something you forgot to say about Jodie’s unwanted presence in your life?” Derek drawled, and for an instant, the smiling, gentle man Jodie knew became a threatening presence.

  Alexander scowled. “Margie didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he returned.

  “Margie never means things the way they sound,” Derek said coldly, “but she never stops to think how much words can hurt, either. She walks around in a perpetual Margie-haze of self-absorption. Even now, Jodi
e’s only here because she can make canapés for the party tomorrow night—or didn’t you know?” he added with absolute venom.

  Margie came into the room behind her brother, downcast and quiet. She winced as she met Derek’s accusing eyes.

  “I’m a pig,” she confessed. “I really don’t mean to hurt people. I love Jodie. She knows it, even if you don’t.”

  “You have a great way of showing it, honey,” Derek replied, a little less antagonistic to her than to her brother. “Inviting Jodie down just to cook for a party is pretty thoughtless.”

  Margie’s eyes fell. “You can go home if you want to, Jodie, and I’m really sorry,” she offered.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t mind cooking!” Jodie went to Margie and hugged her hard. “I could always say no if I didn’t want to do it! Derek’s just being kind, that’s all.”

  Margie glared at her cousin. “Kind.”

  Derek glared back. “Sure I am. It runs in the family. Glad you could come, Jodie, want to wash and wax my car when you finish doing the dishes?” he added sarcastically.

  “You stop that!” Margie raged at him.

  “Then get in here and help her do the dishes,” Derek drawled. “Or do your hands melt in hot water?”

  “We do have a dishwasher,” Alexander said tersely.

  “Gosh! You’ve actually seen it, then?” Derek exclaimed.

  Alexander said a nasty word and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “One down,” Derek said with twinkling eyes and looking at Margie. “One to go.”

  “Quit that, or she’ll toss you out and I’ll be stuck here with them and Kirry all weekend,” Jodie said softly.

  “Kirry?” He gaped at Margie. “You invited Kirry?”

  Margie ground her teeth together and clenched her small hands. “She’s the guest of honor!”

  “Lord, give me a bus ticket!” He moved toward the door. “Sorry, honey, I’m not into masochism, and a night of unadulterated Kirry would put me in a mental ward. I’m leaving.”

  “But you just got here!” Margie wailed.

  He turned at the door. “You should have told me who was coming to the party. I’d still be in San Antonio. Want to come with me, Jodie?” he offered. “I’ll take you to a fiesta!”

  Margie looked murderous. “She’s my friend.”

  “She’s not, or you wouldn’t have forced her down here to suffer Kirry all weekend,” he added.

  “Give me a minute to get out of the line of fire, will you?” Jodie held up her hands and went back to the dining room to scoop up dirty dishes, forcibly smiling.

  Derek glanced at the closed door, and moved closer to Margie. “Don’t try to convince me that you don’t know how Jodie feels about your brother.”

  “She got over that old crush years ago, she said so!” Margie returned.

  “She lied,” he said shortly. “She’s as much in love with him as she ever was, not that either of you ever notice! It’s killing her just to be around him, and you stick her with Kirry. How do you think she’s going to feel, watching Kirry slither all over Cobb for a whole night?”

  Margie bit her lower lip and looked hunted. “She said…”

  “Oh, sure, she’s going to tell you that she’s in love with Cobb.” He nodded. “Great instincts, Marge.”

  “Don’t call me Marge!”

  He bent and brushed an insolent kiss across her parted lips, making her gasp. His dark eyes narrowed as he assayed the unwilling response. “Never thought of me like that, either, huh?” he drawled.

  “You’re…my…cousin,” she choked.

  “I’m no close relation to you at all, despite Cobb’s antagonism. One day I’m going to walk out the door with you over my shoulder, and Cobb can do his worst.” He winked at her. “See you, sweetheart.”

  He turned and ambled out the door. Margie was still staring after him helplessly and holding her hand to her lips when Jodie came in with another stack of dishes.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jodie asked.

  “Derek kissed me,” she said in a husky tone.

  “He’s always kissing you.”

  Margie swallowed hard. “Not like this.”

  Jodie’s eyebrows went up and she grinned. “I thought it was about time.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Jodie said at once. “Here, can you open the dishwasher for me? My hands are full.”

  Margie broke out of her trance and went to help, shell-shocked and quiet.

  “Don’t let Derek upset you,” Jodie said gently. “He thinks he’s doing me a favor, but he’s not. I don’t mind helping out, in any way I can. I owe you and Cobb so much…”

  “You don’t owe us a thing,” Margie said at once. “Oh, Jodie, you shouldn’t let me make use of you like this. You should speak up for yourself. You don’t do that enough.”

  “I know. It’s why I haven’t advanced in the company,” she had to admit. “I just don’t like confrontations.”

  “You had enough of them as a kid, didn’t you?” Margie asked.

  Jodie flushed. “I loved my parents. I really did.”

  “But they fought, too. Just like ours. Our mother hated our father, even after he was dead. She drank and drank, trying to forget him, just the same. She soured my brother on women, you know. She picked on him from the time he was six, and every year it got worse. He had a roaring inferiority complex when he was in high school.”

  “Yes? Well, he’s obviously got over it now,” Jodie said waspishly.

  Margie shook her head. “Not really. If he had, he’d know he could do better than Kirry.”

  “I thought you liked her!”

  Margie looked shamefaced. “I do, sort of. Well, she’s got an important job and she could really help me get my foot in the door at Weston’s, the exclusive department store where she works.”

  “Oh, Margie,” Jodie said wearily, shaking her head.

  “I use people,” Margie admitted. “But,” she added brightly, “I try to do it in a nice way, and I always send flowers or presents or something afterward, don’t I?”

  Jodie laughed helplessly. “Yes, you do,” she admitted. “Here, help me load up the dishes, and then you can tell me what sort of canapés you want me to make for tomorrow.”

  She didn’t add that she knew she’d spend the whole day tomorrow making them, because the party was for almost forty people, and lunch had to be provided, as well. It was a logistical nightmare. But she could cope. She’d done it before. And Margie was her best friend.

  3

  Jodie was up at dawn making biscuits and dough for the canapés. She’d only just taken up breakfast when Alexander came into the kitchen, wearing jeans and boots and a long-sleeved chambray shirt. He looked freshly showered and clean-shaven, his dark hair still damp.

  “I’ve got breakfast,” Jodie offered without looking too closely at him. He was overpowering in tight jeans and a shirt unbuttoned to his collarbone, where thick curling black hair peeked out. She had to fight not to throw herself at him.

  “Coffee?” he murmured.

  “In the pot.”

  He poured himself a cup, watching the deft motions of her hands as she buttered biscuits and scooped eggs onto a platter already brimming over with bacon and sausages.

  “Aren’t you eating?” he asked as he seated himself at the table.

  “Haven’t time,” she said, arranging a layer of canapés on a baking sheet. “Most of your guests are coming in time for lunch, so these have to be done now, before I get too busy.”

  His sensuous lips made a thin line. “I can’t stand him, but Derek is right about one thing. You do let Margie use you.”

  “You and Margie were there when I had nobody else,” she said without seeing the flinch of his eyelids. “I consider that she’s entitled to anything I can ever do for her.”

  “You sell yourself short.”

  “I appreciate it when people do things for me without being asked,” she replied. She put the
canapés in the oven and set the timer, pushing back sweaty hair that had escaped from her bun.

  His eyes went over her figure in baggy pants and an oversize T-shirt. “You dress like a bag lady,” he muttered.

  She glanced at him, surprised. “I dress very nicely at work.”

  “Like a dowager bag lady,” he corrected. “You wear the same sort of clothes you favored when you were overweight. You’re not anymore. Why don’t you wear things that fit?”

  It was surprising that he noticed her enough to even know what she was wearing. “Margie’s the fashion model, not me,” she reminded him. “Besides, I’m not the type for trendy stuff. I’m just ordinary.”

  He frowned. She had a real ego problem. He and Margie hadn’t done much for it, either. She accepted anything that was thrown at her, as if she deserved it. He was surprised how much it bothered him, to see her so undervalued even by herself. Not that he was interested in her, he added silently. She wasn’t his type at all.

  “Kirry’s coming this morning,” he added. “I have to pick her up at the airport at noon.”

  Jodie only smiled. “Margie’s hoping she’ll help her with a market for her designs.”

  “I think she’ll try,” he said conservatively. “Eat breakfast,” he said. “You can’t go all day without food.”

  “I don’t have time,” she repeated, starting on another batch of canapés. “Unless you want to sacrifice yourself in a bowl of dough?” she offered, extending the bowl with a mischievous smile.

  His green eyes twinkled affectionately in spite of himself. “No, thanks.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  He watched her work while he ate, nebulous thoughts racing through his mind. Jodie was so much a part of his life that he never felt discomfort when they were together. He had a hard time with strangers. He appeared to be stoic and aloof, but in fact he was an introvert who didn’t quite know how to mix with people who weren’t in law enforcement. Like Jodie herself, he considered. She was almost painfully shy around people she didn’t know—and tonight, she was going to be thrown in headfirst with a crowd she probably wouldn’t even like.