by Linda Warren
Colt exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Clearly, a celebration was in order. He stood, picturing Emma’s face when he gave her the good news. Her eyes would darken. Her lips would widen in the smile she wore especially for him. He’d hold her close, and together, they’d dance around the kitchen.
Or...
His heart thudded. On the trail ride, he’d brushed aside the compliments Mike paid their cook, but this... Doubt unfurled in his chest as Colt stared at a photo of Emma in her chef’s whites. Even before the Beaks and Wings article, one of the premier restaurants in Fort Lauderdale had offered her complete control of their kitchen. According to this write-up—he thumped the printout—Emma had the skills to make a name for herself as one of America’s top chefs. A position she’d never achieve by hiding her talents away on the Circle P.
He ran a hand through his hair. He’d spent his time at the top. Enjoyed the years of fame and fortune that came with being the best bull rider in the country. Emma wanted fame, too. Hadn’t she dreamed of having her own TV show? Her own restaurant? He shook his head. She’d never make that leap as long as she stayed on the ranch. Wouldn’t strike out on her own as long as he held her back.
A sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized what he had to do. Before his courage ran out, he faxed a response to his boss at the PBR and placed a call to his brother Hank. Then, summoning every vestige of strength he possessed, he called Emma to the office.
“What’s up?” she asked from the doorway a few minutes later.
Knowing one glimpse of the trust and love in her eyes would rob him of his nerve, he dug deep for the bravery he’d needed back in the days when he made his living by riding bulls. “Come on in, Emma. Close the door.”
The saucy smile she reserved only for him faded just a smidge as she edged her way into the room.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite the desk while he leaned against the wall. “Where do you stand with dinner preparations for the Parkers?”
At his formal tone, Emma’s brow furrowed. Looking very much like the professional chef she was, she folded her hands the way he’d seen her do countless times. “I thought we’d serve rib roast, from the Circle P’s own beef, of course. It makes such a beautiful presentation. Chris and Tim are prepping vegetables for the grill. There’s a raspberry torte I’ve been wanting to try for dessert. Why? Was their flight delayed? We can push everything back if we need to.”
Colt ground his teeth until they ached. The elaborate meal was as far from “simple food and plenty of it” as it could get. Though he knew every morsel would melt in his mouth, the menu made his task easier in a way. Maintaining his distance, he managed to say the hard words. “I know this is going to come as a shock, but I have to let you go.”
“Go?” Confusion swam in the dark eyes he longed to see when he woke every morning. “Go where?”
His determination wobbled, but he forced himself to stay strong. “The meal you’ve planned for tonight only goes to prove what I’ve said all along—you’ll never fit in here. The people at Beaks and Wings recognized it right away. See for yourself.” He sent the pages he’d printed spinning across the desk.
Cowboy up, he told himself when his knees threatened to buckle.
* * *
EMMA DIDN’T EVEN glance at the papers Colt slid toward her. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut. Hiding behind the mask of indifference she’d honed through years of listening to her father’s, her husband’s, other chefs’ rants, she buried the hurt that threatened to crawl over her face.
Hoping to get through to the man she’d fallen in love with, she asked, “What’s this all about, Colt?”
When he refused to meet her gaze, panic beat its wings in her chest. Then, and only then, she reached for the magazine article Colt had tossed her way. Despite their raves during the trail ride, had Mike and Dave dissed her cooking? She worried her lower lip.
“They gave us five feathers!” she protested.
“They gave the Circle P five feathers,” Colt corrected. “They hailed you as the next Julia Child. And they’re right. You certainly don’t belong on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, Florida.”
Was that pain in his eyes?
A tiny spark of hope flared in her chest. Maybe Colt thought, somehow, he was firing her for her own good. If so, she’d prove him wrong. “I’m not going anywhere, Colt. I love it here. This is our home, mine and Bree’s. Yours, too. I thought...” Her words faltered. Hating the needy note that had crept into her voice, she took a breath. “I thought we were going to build our future here. Together.”
“You were wrong about that.” Colt bit off each word as if he were tearing into a tough piece of meat. “The PBR has made me an offer I can’t refuse. I leave tomorrow.”
Leaving? Going back to his life on the road?
Emma blinked, her hopes and dreams wavering. Time and again, Colt had proven that underneath his rough exterior beat the heart of a man who doted on her, on her daughter. He hadn’t put it into words, not precisely, but she’d assumed they were making plans. Plans for the future. Their future as a couple, as a family. They’d talked about the ranch he wanted to buy. The bulls he intended to raise.
She swallowed, straining to remember what, exactly, he’d said, but all she could recall were the words he hadn’t spoken. Words like forever and always. Nausea rolled through her midsection. She clamped a hand over her mouth.
For a second, she thought Colt’s shoulders had slumped. She blinked, and realized she’d been mistaken. A cool reserve radiated from his rigid jawline. Instead of softening, his stance only firmed. The arms that had once held her close were now folded across his chest, shutting her out.
“It’s time we face the facts and get on with our lives. My future isn’t on the Circle P. Yours isn’t, either.”
Emma reeled back against her chair. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the man she’d spent the past month falling in love with had never existed. In his place stood a stranger. One who looked remarkably like the angry man who’d yelled at her—twice—the day she’d arrived at the Circle P. In a callous voice, he said the words she’d dreaded then, but hadn’t seen coming today.
“You’re fired. Pack your bags and get out. I want you gone by the time I get back from the airport with the Parkers.”
White noise roared in her head. Her thoughts sluggish, she stared at Colt. At first, she’d been certain this was all some kind of joke, but his tone cut through her fog like a hot knife through butter. Hearing the harshness in his voice, she knew. Knew he’d fallen out of love with her as quickly as they’d fallen in love with each other.
A hollow spot yawned in her chest where her love for Colt was supposed to be. Rising on legs that felt far older than their twenty-six years, she carefully picked her way out of the office. In the great room, she trailed her fingers over the back of the couch where she and Colt had traded the most amazing kisses. She spared a single glance for the staircase he’d carried Bree up the nights her daughter had fallen asleep in his arms. Her head down, Emma trudged through the long hall lined with pictures of Judds and Parkers, the hall where she had hoped to one day hang a photo of her and Colt and Bree.
She glanced at the cedar walls of the house that had become her home and knew Colt was right about one thing. He’d done her a favor by firing her. She couldn’t stay here. Not on the ranch where she’d found love and happiness. Without Colt, the Circle P was a wonderful place, a place where she wanted to raise her daughter. But it took the rancher to make it a home.
Summoning a calm she didn’t feel, she drew her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed the number for a restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. She winced at the thought of stepping back into a bustling kitchen where tempers flared as often as burners under the pans. She nearly sobbed when she considered uprooting her daughter again.
But, honestly, did she have a choice? Her hands shaking, she informed the voice on the other end o
f the line that his new chef was on her way.
Finally, she drew in a courage-laced breath, squared her shoulders and pushed her way into the Circle P’s kitchen a final time. In one corner Chris chopped veggies with the precision of someone who’d been born to the job, while at the pastry counter, Tim decorated a cake for the Parkers’ homecoming. A cake someone else would have to serve because she and Bree were on their way out of here. A wave of homesickness for the ranch she was about to leave threatened to knock her down.
“Chris, Tim, I’m feeling a little under the weather,” she announced from the doorway. “I’d appreciate it if you could carry on with the dinner preparations.”
“You okay, Ms. Emma?” A worried frown crossed Tim’s face.
Buying time, she closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m leaving the kitchen in your capable hands.”
For a few seconds, she concentrated on staying upright, on ignoring the searing pain that gripped her heart. She spared a quick look at the small corner table where her daughter was coloring a welcome home banner for the Parkers. Her chest tightened and she swallowed her tears. For Bree’s sake, she wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t let her heartbreak show.
“I’m making a present. See?” The sign Bree held up had more scribbles outside the lines than inside them.
Emma lifted a hand, intending to brush it through hair she’d snagged into a bun in deference to the rising temperatures. She settled for tucking one of the pins in deep enough that it scraped across her scalp.
Yipping, a puppy scratched at the screened door.
“Chocolate!” Bree looked up from her artwork. “You’re s’posed to be with your mommy and your brothers in the barn.” Golden-brown from the days she’d spent playing outside, her daughter rushed to the door. She scooped the dog of indeterminate breed into her arms and carried him inside. “Mommy, look, he runned to me. Watch. I’ll show you his new trick.” Eight pounds of squiggling fur poured out of her arms when she bent over. “Sit, Chocolate,” Bree ordered.
The dog plopped its heavy hindquarters on the floor.
“Now, shake.”
The appropriately named puppy slapped one paw against Bree’s outstretched hand. With a squeal of delight, her daughter scooped the dog back into her arms. “Mr. Colt said a dog is a big job. But I teached him good, didn’t I, Mommy?” She patted the dog’s head. “I’m gonna teach you lots of tricks, Chocolate.”
Another wave of pain knifed through Emma’s chest. When she and Bree left the Circle P, they’d have to leave the pup behind. Taking over as head chef meant impossibly long days that started late and ran far into the night. No, she shook her head. There was no way to fit even a small pet into their new schedule. And, from the size of his paws, Chocolate was going to be anything but small. She dropped to her knees and let Bree think she was letting the dog lick her face when, in fact, he washed the tears from her cheeks.
* * *
JUST WHEN HE thought Jimmy couldn’t bounce any higher and still remain strapped in, Colt turned off the main road onto the long drive to the ranch house. “Keep your boots on,” he told the youngster whose presence had stifled the serious talk he needed to have with Ty and Sarah. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Beside him on the passenger’s seat, the Circle P’s owner stretched his long legs. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. Hawaii was nice, but nothing beats coming home.”
Home.
Theirs, but not his. Not for much longer. The pain of leaving, of letting down all the people who were counting on him, was a knife in his chest. Colt stared through the windshield at land that had been worked by four generations of Judds. Thanks to Emma, he’d rediscovered a love for ranching that had been handed down from father to son. A love he wanted to pass along to children of his own someday. He wanted...this, he admitted as he studied barbed wire and green grass. Trouble was, having his own patch of saw grass and palmetto didn’t hold the same appeal without Emma at his side. Before he could have what he wanted, he’d have to get over losing her. Have to reach the point where he could think about her without doubling over. Which, by his reckoning, might not happen till he hung up his spurs for the last time.
“Well, I want a decent cup of coffee.” Sarah gave one of the ranch hands a friendly wave. “I missed the gurgle of our old percolator in the mornings.”
“About that...” Colt swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Emma called it a monstrosity. She tossed it. The new one, though, it makes a mighty fine cuppa joe.”
“You don’t say.”
Sarah leaned back so far into her seat Colt barely caught a glimpse of her raised eyebrows in the rearview mirror. Maybe he should have argued longer or stronger for the battered coffeemaker. He’d intended to. One look at the excitement in Emma’s eyes when she lifted the new one out of the box, though, and all his objections had simply melted. The same way they had when she rearranged the cupboards. Or offered the men a choice between apples and oranges in their lunch pails.
“I know I promised to uphold the Circle P’s traditions, but that old pot—”
“Nothing stays the same forever,” Ty interrupted. “Look how much the ranch has changed. Five years ago, we raised beef—prime Andalusian cattle—and nothing else.”
“And you were barely keeping body and soul together,” Sarah pointed out.
“Lettin’ tourists come along for the spring and winter roundups put us in the black and kept us there,” Ty finished.
“Don’t forget my flowers,” Sarah chimed in. “With that end of the business doing so well, we can afford to take on two more foster kids this fall.”
“Sounds like the birding tours’ll be a big hit, too, thanks to Josh. He did a great job showing Mike and Dave around.” Colt aimed for a parking spot among the usual assortment of pickup trucks and four-wheelers. “You’ll have to read the article from Beaks and Wings.”
“First thing on my list after we unload.” Ty unbuckled his seat belt with an audible sigh.
“I can’t wait to see Maize’s puppies. Can I go to the barn, Dad?” Jimmy popped his door open when the truck rolled to a halt.
“Let the dog get a whiff of your scent before you go bustin’ in on her,” Ty cautioned the same way Colt had taught Bree. “Remember, you’ve been away for a while.”
The boy who’d acquired a deeper tan in the month he’d been gone slowed his steps just long enough to treat them to a world-class eye roll as if he needed to remind his dad this wasn’t his first time dealing with a protective mom and her pups.
“Ty, would you mind getting the luggage?” Sarah asked as she stepped from the vehicle. “I’m itching to visit the greenhouse. I’m sure Chris and Tim took good care of my plants.”
“They worked with ’em whenever Emma didn’t need them in the kitchen,” Colt said, noting the same slight lift in Sarah’s tone he’d heard the past three times she’d asked about the boys. He added a subtle hint of his own. “She taught ’em so much about cookin’ an’ such, I imagine they could ’bout take over.”
“Uh-huh.” Sarah squinted at the horizon, where the setting sun had turned low clouds into a sea of gold and pink. “For now, though, I’ll need their help. The new plants should arrive the day after tomorrow. We have to make room for them.”
“There’s some other stuff you need to know.” Prepared to dive into the topic he’d put off for as long as he could, Colt ran one hand over the brim of the new Stetson he’d picked up on his way through Okeechobee.
“Can we get to that in a bit?” Sarah flexed her fingers. “I can hardly wait to dig my hands into some good Florida dirt.”
“Well, I...” But he was speaking to Sarah’s back as the boss’s wife headed for her beloved flowers. Watching her go, Colt resettled a hat that, like all the other changes in his life, was going to take some getting used to. He shrugged. “Guess I’ll help with the luggage,” he muttered. It was just as well. He could use the reprieve to get his wits about him.
While he and Ty pulled bags fro
m the back of the truck, Colt took a slow, methodical survey of the parking area. He couldn’t spot Emma’s car and told himself that was a good thing, though, for the life of him, he wasn’t sure how he’d survive the next five minutes, let alone the next five years, without her at his side. In her usual parking space sat a black sedan with an “I Heart Real Estate” sticker on the bumper. Evidently, Hank had made good time. Too good, in fact. Had something else brought his younger brother to the Circle P? Colt’s brow furrowed. Weekly phone calls from his mom kept him updated on Arlene and the baby. At last report, the situation was still touch and go.
Suddenly in a hurry, he put his feet in motion. Seconds later, his boots rang against the wide steps leading into the ranch house. The front door swung open before Colt made it to the top, and his brother stepped onto the porch. Munching on a cookie, the younger Judd dusted a few crumbs onto the wide cedar planks.
“Hank.” Colt dropped a pair of suitcases at the feet of a man who looked far too at ease to be the bearer of bad news. “You must’ve been halfway here when we spoke on the phone earlier,” he said while they traded shakes and half hugs. “What’s the hurry?”
“I’m just here for you, bro. It sounded like you were eager to hit the road.” Hank held out a fistful of cookies. “Want one?”
Colt’s stomach did a slow roll as he stared down at the treats he and Emma had baked for the Parkers’ homecoming. He told himself the tremor that shot through him was just hunger. Earlier, he’d been in such a rush to put some much-needed distance between him and the woman he loved, he hadn’t bothered to stop for lunch. But the thin scab over his heartbreak was sure to reopen if Emma and Bree were still on the Circle P. “You haven’t seen Emma, have you?”
“The cook?” Hank’s eyes widened. “You know what she did, don’t you?”