She quelled the quiver in her stomach that came only when she fretted over funds. Kicking the porch swing into motion, she tried to let her mind meander to something more restful.
Riding Miss Molly...petting her soft neck...weeds in her mane...ergh.
Okay, maybe not so restful.
Her mouth twisted. Micah had eaten two big servings of her chicken pie and had barely uttered a thank-you at the end of the meal. Plus, it seemed as though he had intentionally navigated the conversation away from the rodeo. Even if he wasn’t interested, he could have just politely listened, and maybe even learned a thing or two.
Oh, brother. Good thing she was smart enough to steer clear of guys like him. Guys period, at least for the time being. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Surely God had a mind to use her in other ways. Maybe He wanted her to start some sort of program to teach restaurant skills to homeless people, or maybe—
“You know, you look mighty pretty when you’re asleep.”
Her eyes shot open. Micah stood in the doorway with his hat in his hand and that arrogant grin on his face, like he thought he owned the world. He sauntered out onto the porch, hooked a thumb in the front pocket of his jeans and leaned against the pillar in the manner of someone who intended to linger.
She sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. “Why do you keep doing that?”
His eyebrows arched. “Doing what?”
“Startling me.” His hawk-eyed focus on her rankled her tired nerves. “Like earlier, in the barn.”
“Sorry.” He grinned again. “Did you even notice the compliment?”
She crossed her arms, effectively blockading herself against his masculine appeal. He had called her pretty, which pleased some deep-down primitive part of her that she wanted to squash like a horsefly. He’d obviously mistaken her for one of those girls who had nothing better to do than swoon over any male who looked their way. That was so not her.
Flustered, her defenses kicked into high gear. “You aren’t here to give me another lecture on how to properly care for my horse, are you?”
His eyes tightened in apparent confusion, then widened with realization. “Oh, I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why you spent most of dinner firing bullets at me with your eyes. I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”
Firing bullets? Had she really been that obvious? She tuned down her defensiveness just a notch. “I know how to take care of my horse. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
He held up a hand. “I just thought maybe I could help is all.” A corner of his mouth quirked as he regarded the porch swing with obvious amusement. “Do you always sleep out here, or do you actually have a room in the house?”
Maintaining her guard, she settled back a little into the cushion behind her. “I’m just tired from work.”
“Understandable.” His languid gaze lit on her. “Teaching looks tough.”
“It is...” It grated on her that he seemed to assume teaching was all she had to do. “But I put in a full day even before that.”
“Oh, yeah?” He slid into a sitting position on the porch rail. “Doing what?”
She hesitated. Was that genuine interest, or was he just making up for the horse comment? “I work up in Halston at Esther’s Kitchen as a prep chef.”
He crinkled his forehead. Well if that didn’t make him even cuter. “So, you’re a chef?”
“A prep chef. There’s a difference.” She paused, calculating how much she wanted to explain. “I help prepare the food. You know, chopping, grating. When we get really busy, I do some of the cooking and plating. To become an actual chef, I have to go to school, which is what I’m planning on doing in the fall.”
“Huh.” His eyes seemed to glaze over at that, and his attention veered to the purple-streaked horizon. “Nice night.”
She shook her head. “You know, you’re really good at that.”
He looked her way again. “Good at what?”
“Changing the subject. Like at dinner.” She slitted her gaze, interrogation-style. “When we were talking about the rodeo.”
Drawing his brows together, he took a moment to compose his response. “I was just making conversation. You want to talk about it now?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She rubbed her upper arms to stave off either the oncoming evening chill or her irritation at letting herself be bothered by this. “I don’t have time for the rodeo this year anyway.”
“You’re too busy earning money for school.” It came out as a statement rather than a question.
“Right.” She drew out the word, unsure of what to make of his insight.
“Too bad.” He shrugged. “You’d make a mighty pretty rodeo princess.”
A princess? Her mouth gaped open. What was that supposed to mean?
Before she could protest, he shifted gears again. “Tell me about that old truck that sits in the barn. 1949 Chevy Thriftmaster, unless I miss my guess.”
She leaned back, still not sure if she felt affronted by the “princess” comment, but impressed at his automotive knowledge. “That’s my truck. What about it?”
“I don’t know. Does it run?”
“No. I wish it did.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m not really sure. It’s just...you know...old.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“It was my granddaddy’s. I always loved it, so before he died he said he wanted me to have it.”
“Nice. But I’ll bet he didn’t mean for you to be saddled with an old wreck just taking up space. You should get it running again.”
“It’s not an old wreck. It’s a valuable antique.” She folded her arms. “It’s kind of silly to think of driving that old rig around Seattle.” She smiled at the thought. “Sure would be cool though.”
“Seattle, huh? That where you’re going to school?”
She nodded.
Tapping his hat against his leg, he seemed to consider. “You ever live in a city before?”
“No.” Her voice felt small. “I’ve lived on the ranch all my life.”
“Mmm.” He nodded sagely. “Well, be careful you don’t wind up living in one of those big old houses with a bunch of people taking your food and skipping out on the rent.”
Was he lecturing her again? “That won’t happen.” She pulled herself up straighter. “I already have a roommate and she’s finding us an apartment.”
“A roommate, huh? Someone you know?”
“Of course I know her. She’s the daughter of an old friend of my mama’s.” She caught herself fisting her hands. Why was she feeling defensive again? “She lives in Seattle and she’s excited to move out on her own.”
“Oh.” Even in this light, she could tell his eyes held a twinkle, like he was enjoying throwing her off balance. “Sounds like you know her real well.”
She would have been thoroughly insulted if the comment hadn’t been accompanied by a mind-bogglingly adorable smile. Her voice shrank in again. “I know her well enough.”
With an if-you-say-so nod, he returned his gaze to the darkening skyline. “Seattle’s a mighty fast-paced city. Be a big switch from living out here.”
A slight pain gnarled her belly. “Everybody has to grow up sometime.”
“I guess so. But does it bother you...leaving your family?”
The pain sharpened, making her regret that second helping of chocolate-pudding cake she’d had at dinner. No one, herself included, had dared ask her that question.
“I was more worried before my mom started seeing someone.” Dipping her chin, she slid her diamond heart back and forth on its chain. “She’s spending a lot of time with Travis Bloom.” She gulped back a vague sense of melancholy. “You know, the movie direct
or.”
“Oh.” His demeanor softened. “That must be strange. Because of your dad and all—”
“It’s fine.” Oooh. That came out sounding harsher than she’d intended. “I really like Mr. Bloom. Plus now that Adam has Courtney, I’m not worried about him.”
“She seems like a nice gal.” The subtle brashness returned to his delivery. “That’s real good for guys like him.”
Something about the way he said that nettled her. “What do you mean ‘guys like him’?”
“You know. The settling-down type.” He balanced his hat on his knee. “One thing’s for sure, that’s not me.”
“Well...good.” She bristled. Why did that comment get under her hide? “I...I mean, it’s good that you’re upfront about that so all the marriage-minded girls will know to stay away.”
“Yep,” he replied evenly. “All the gals know from the get-go what to expect. Nothing serious.”
All the gals? Did he expect her to be impressed? She shook her head. “I think that’s real sad.”
“Yeah.” A corner of his mouth lifted, on the side with that dimple. “That’s probably because you’re one of those ‘marriage-minded’ gals.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are.” He flashed a know-it-all grin. “I can tell by looking at you.”
“You can’t tell everything about a person just by looking at them. I’m not ever planning on getting married.” The words pierced over the top of an exasperated breath. He was just needling her. Why was she letting it work? “Besides, if I did want to get married, I’d be sticking around here, not leaving for school.”
“That might be true, but if tonight’s dinner was any indication, you don’t need any schooling. Seems to me you have all the cooking skills you need.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Her face heated. Did he think he was complimenting her? “I mean, it’s not like I’m planning on majoring in Home Ec. I’m going to get my bachelor’s degree in culinary arts so I can become a chef. Not so I can serve some man who doesn’t even know a soufflé from a chawanmushi.”
His brow furrowed over a look of mock injury. “Chaw...wan...what?”
At a loss for a biting comeback, she let out an ineffectual huff. “And let me tell you something else...” She abruptly stood, sending the swing into a frenzy of motion. “I’m a roper, not a princess.” She whirled toward the door, fully intending to make a movie star–style exit.
“Not anymore.” He spoke from behind her.
She reeled around clumsily, suddenly more Buster Keaton than Bette Davis. “What?”
“You said you’re a roper. I just said ‘not anymore.’ You’re moving on. Just like Owen.”
“Like Owen?” That reference puzzled her. Owen had only competed in the rodeo one time, back when they were all kids.
“Right.” He looked so sure of himself. “He gave up the rodeo and moved on.”
Heat washed her cheeks. “So you’re saying I’m giving up?”
“No. I’m saying you’re moving on.”
“What does it matter to you? You said you—how did you put it? Don’t ‘have much interest’ in rodeos?”
He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know all about them.”
Taking a step forward, she symbolically recommitted to the conversation. “Oh, you think you know all about them?”
“Could be.”
Of all the conceited... She fumbled for a response. “I bet you wouldn’t know the first thing about competitive roping.”
A sanguine smile curved his lips. “I could take up tie-down roping if I had a mind to.”
She glared at him. Was he serious? He thought he could just take up rodeo roping? He might as well try baking a batch of cream puffs while he was at it. “It’s not the same as roping out on the range you know. It’s a timed event. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
He regarded her with a wicked half smile and a glint in his eye. “You think I couldn’t beat your time?”
“Are you kidding?” She advanced a step. “I’ve been roping all my life. I bet I could beat you without even trying.”
“Okay.” He dipped a nod. “You’re on.”
“What?”
“I accept your challenge. We can compete against each other in the rodeo and see who makes the best time.”
“I wasn’t really betting. And if you knew anything about rodeos, you’d know that men and women don’t compete against each other.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You sure about that?”
She hesitated. “Well...in team roping, it can be a man and a woman on a team, but—”
“Team roping.” He seemed to consider. “Works for me.”
“Are you even listening to me?” She flapped her arms. “You are the most self-absorbed—”
“Self-absorbed?” A crease settled across his brow. “What does that mean?”
She glared. “I just mean that if you want to impress people around here, you should try doing something for someone else instead of making yourself out to be some kind of—” she waved her hands in front of her “—big shot.” She let out a breath, exhausted from this exchange. “I have to go to bed.”
With a mini-hurricane of indignation raging through her limbs, she turned once more and headed for the front door.
“Night.” He called from the porch in an unruffled, downright cheerful voice.
Banging the door shut behind her, she stood in the foyer, fuming without fully understanding why. Normally, she prided herself on having an even temper—a trait that came in handy in both the restaurant business and in working with kids. But right now her head felt scrambled. To make matters worse, Micah had remained completely calm, causing her to appear all the more irrational by comparison.
What was up with that guy, anyway? Not only was he full of himself, but he was hiding something, and she had to find out what it was.
The sound of Adam and Courtney laughing in the next room drew her attention. That was it. Adam had hired the guy. He had to know something about his past.
She cracked open the door to the parlor, where the couple sat watching the TV that was normally encased inside a retrofitted antique armoire.
“Hey. Adam.” She spat out the words like watermelon seeds on a hot summer day.
Adam half pulled his attention from the screen. “Yeah?”
She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her like a spy. “Can I talk to you?”
Adam looked at Courtney, who gave a go-ahead nod and continued to watch the show. “Sure.” He took his arm from around Courtney’s shoulders and gave Janessa his full attention. “What’s going on?”
She perched next to him, placing her hand on the back of the settee. “What do you know about Micah?”
He shared a glance with Courtney, who reached for the remote and hit Mute. “What do you mean?”
Brothers. She groaned out her annoyance at his inability to accurately read between the lines. “I think there’s something he’s not telling us about himself.”
Adam ran a hand over his jaw, either annoyed or amused, or some combination of the two. “I know his name is Micah Brody and he has a lot of experience with horses and cattle.”
“Micah Brody...” She frowned. Why did that name sound familiar?
He exchanged a knowing look with Courtney before reaching for the remote, a sure indicator that his involvement in this conversation was on the wane. “Why are you so interested, Ness?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” A surge of defensiveness crowded out whatever remnant of mature thinking she had left. Her brother could reduce her to the spitting image of a four-year-old like no one else. “Something just doesn’t add up. He seems like he’s hiding something.”
He rolled his hea
d toward her, clearly ready to end the discussion. “He’s not hiding anything, Ness. He can do the job and he came with great references. Why are you so curious?”
Good question. She shrugged. “No reason. Just concerned for the family business is all.”
“Let me worry about that.” He unmuted the TV. “You want to watch a movie with us?”
“No,” she said distantly. “I have cream-puff research to do.” She made her exit, annoyed that she had only made matters worse by giving Adam and Courtney the wrong idea about this. She wasn’t interested. She was just... Ugh. She made a beeline for the stairs, and didn’t slow till she had reached her room.
Sitting down at her desk, she opened her computer. Her hands poised over the keyboard, prepared to type in choux pastry. Instead, when the address bar came up, she found herself spelling out M-I-C-A-H B-R-O-D-Y.
What was she doing? This was a pure waste of time. Still, she clicked on the magnifying glass icon and waited.
“‘National Rodeo Champion’?” She clucked out a laugh.
Of course that was why the name was familiar. A guy named Micah Brody had broken a couple of bull-riding records and had recently won a championship title. But that couldn’t be him, could it? She wavered.
Could it?
She clicked on the first entry and scanned the text. Sure, she loved the sport of rodeo, but she didn’t follow it as rabidly as a lot of people. The very idea that she could have spent the past half hour talking...no...arguing with a national bull-riding champion and not even realize it....
She couldn’t be that ignorant. Could she?
No. She refused to believe it. Micah the ranch hand couldn’t possibly be the Micah Brody.
Determined to redeem herself, she scrolled down to a picture of a young guy on the back of a bucking bull, dust flying around him. The cowboy hat on his head cast a shadow across his face, so she couldn’t quite make out his features.
“This is ridiculous.” She clicked on Images and waited. She gasped. There were those magnetic blue eyes looking out at her. Mocking her. That was him all right.
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