All for a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

  Liar. She couldn’t bring herself to face coming in second to a vendetta. That hurt. Bad. Worse than the knowledge that she was on shaky professional ground. She had to take the Miles City job before Miranda ruined the deal, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to make the call.

  Shae leaned back in her chair, pushing her hair back, and closed her eyes.

  “Headache?” Gerald asked in his snotty voice as he walked by.

  “Nasty one,” Shae said.

  “Coming to lunch? It’s two-taco Tuesday.”

  “I have some stuff to catch up on.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really. I have to investigate some access issues prior to recommending a property for purchase.” Access issues were making her crazy lately, what with people assuming matters and not putting them in writing. Their extreme carelessness was making her job a nightmare.

  Shae suddenly put a hand on her forehead.

  What if...

  Fifteen minutes later Shae walked into Wallace’s office and set the lease agreement she’d pulled up on the computer on his desk.

  “Is this one of our projects?” he asked pointedly.

  “It’s my lunch hour,” Shae replied. “And you’re only here for three more days. Would you please take a look at this and tell me what it says about access?”

  Wallace slipped on his reading glasses as he pulled the lease agreement closer. He read silently for a few minutes, then shook his head. “I assume you mean access to the land itself and not the buildings.”

  “Yes.”

  “It says nothing.”

  “So let’s say the lessees have to cross property they have not leased to get to the part they have leased. And let’s say the owner of the land they cross locks a gate on them...then what?”

  “Sounds like he’s asserting domain.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Why didn’t he assert domain earlier?” Wallace asked, looking over his glasses.

  “Because we—” Shae cleared her throat “—he probably assumed access was granted. And when he’d had enough...”

  “He accidentally asserted domain.” Wallace smiled a little. “I sense a storm moving in.”

  “Yep,” Shae said as she picked up the lease document. “After I get off work, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded her thanks and headed for the door, stopping when he said her name. She looked back curiously and Wallace said, “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off?”

  * * *

  SHAE TOOK THE afternoon off and drove to the High Camp, stopping at the gate with its heavy chain and sturdy lock. Not the way she’d want to live, but the chain and lock might well give Jordan exactly the life he was looking for. Not that he wasn’t in for a long legal battle, because there was no way in hell that Miranda was going to give up just like that. But at least now Jordan would have some ammunition.

  Jordan, who was nowhere to be found. The dog and the pig were both gone and the peacocks...where were the peacocks? Did Jordan even live there anymore?

  He had to, because the yellow Claiborne horses were still in the north pasture. So where were the other animals?

  Shae walked to the empty round pen, then on to the barn. The boardwalks were all finished and the shrubs had been surrounded by rounded river gravel. She resisted the temptation to peek inside the buildings and see what Ashley had accomplished. She didn’t know if her stomach could take it.

  The barn was as empty as the round pen. No Jordan. Just a Subaru and some ornery yellow horses. Finally, after checking the ponds, she let herself into the house and wrote out a note asking him to call her as soon as possible and telling him to keep the gate locked. She figured that last part was intriguing enough to make him call regardless of his feelings toward her.

  He did. She was driving across town to meet Mel when her phone rang.

  “When were you here?” he asked after a quick hello.

  “A few hours ago. Where’s the pig?”

  “I took her home to Claiborne.”

  “And the peacocks?”

  “Went to some starry-eyed California transplants.”

  Shae felt a ridiculous pang. She’d grown to like those noisy birds and the pig...she drew in a deep breath. “I’ve been doing some research,” she said, “and when you locked that gate, you asserted domain.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Miranda doesn’t have right-of-way across your property to access hers. There’s nothing in the agreement that Emery drafted for you and your father that spells out right-of-way.”

  “It wasn’t Emery. It was his assistant. He’s the one who screwed up and made it possible for her to start a guest ranch instead of farming.”

  “Well, he may have also saved your ass. By closing that gate and stopping Miranda’s access, you’re asserting your right to keep her off your property. If you don’t continue to stop her, she could get access by default. You have to keep that gate locked.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “Yeah. Well, this doesn’t automatically mean that Miranda will go away. In fact, I’m pretty certain she’ll continue to harass you for some time, but legally you might have the upper hand.”

  “Shae—”

  “So you need to go and see—”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Shae,” he interrupted, and there was something in his tone that kept her from reiterating the importance of seeing Emery as soon as possible. It also kept her from breathing correctly. “I’m going to sell the ranch. I have to if we’re going to have a chance at anything.”

  “Do you want to sell the ranch?”

  “I want to have a shot at a future with you, and if that’s what it takes...”

  Her throat felt as if it was closing. She wasn’t going to have this happen, to have him sell the ranch because of her and resent her for it later. What if things didn’t work out between them? He’d have lost his last link to his father. “You can’t sell the ranch because of me.”

  “I thought that was what you wanted.”

  “No. That’s not what I want,” she said.

  “Then I must have been talking to some other dark-haired woman, because I’m pretty damned certain that was what I was hearing before I got you fired.”

  “What I wanted...was for you to give up the vendetta.”

  “Then I have to sell the ranch.”

  “Not because of me,” Shae said.

  “Then why the hell should I do it?”

  “Exactly. If you don’t have a reason other than me, then don’t do it.”

  There was a very long moment of heavy silence and then Jordan said, “What the hell do you want, Shae?”

  She wanted to know how to walk that thin line between compromise and control, and right now she had no faith in her ability to do so—or to even recognize when she strayed too far one way or the other. Yes, she wanted him to leave the High Camp because he’d be free of Miranda, but what if he hated his life away from the ranch that he could now possibly make his own? She didn’t want to be the cause of that.

  “Shae?” he asked with an edge to his voice. A justified edge, really.

  “I want...I want time to think,” she finally said. And then she hung up.

  * * *

  EVEN THOUGH SHE wanted nothing more than to be alone, Shae met with Mel as planned for a Friday night drink at a small bar a few blocks from the Cedar Creek Enterprises offices—a place with decent burgers and a jukebox, which didn’t attract a crowd until the later hours of the evening. They sat in their usual booth and then Shae went to the bar to give their order, since the bartender was also the waiter for the first part of the evening.

  “So when do you think
Miranda is going to lower the boom?” she asked Mel, who was eyeing her with an I-know-something’s-wrong look.

  “She may be bluffing. Take the Miles City job.”

  “The one that she’s supposed to ruin for me?” Shae said with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m beginning to feel like Jordan,” she said, satisfied with how casually she’d said his name. “No matter what I do, there she is.”

  “How are things with him?” Mel asked. So much for sidetracking her friend.

  “We parted ways.”

  “Why?”

  Shae cleared her throat, which seemed to be closing on her for the second time that evening. “It’s not working out.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Unfair question,” Shae said, reaching for her drink.

  “How so?”

  “Because I want to say no, but I can’t.”

  “Then...?”

  “I can’t be in the middle of this thing with him.”

  “Why? Afraid you’d fight too hard?”

  “Afraid that I’ll take over his life.”

  Mel cocked her head as she slowly stirred her drink. “Have you controlled anything about his life yet?”

  “I’m a strong influence,” she said darkly.

  “What if he needs you?”

  Shae frowned at Mel. “Aren’t you supposed to make things easier for me? You know...best friend...shoulder to cry on...moral support?”

  “All I’m going to say is that there’s nothing wrong with being a strong influence with a person strong enough to stand up to you.”

  “He just told me he’s selling the ranch—because of me.”

  Mel was silent for a moment. “That’s big.”

  Shae nodded without looking at her friend. “Yeah. Remember how Reed kept changing to make me happy...how that ultimately turned out?”

  “Not well,” Mel conceded.

  “I don’t want Jordan to come to resent me.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Exactly.” And if Mel wasn’t going to argue with her, then Shae was pretty damned certain that her fears were well grounded.

  * * *

  SHAE PASSED ON a second drink, pleading a headache—which was no lie—and drove back to her apartment. Her parking space was taken by a strange car, as were all of the other available spaces. Great. Her neighbor was having one of his parties, which meant no sleep for her—as if that was going to be a possibility in the first place. She finally found a spot two blocks away and walked back to her apartment, nodding at the people standing in her hallway, drinks in hand. Maybe this was for the best—it’d give her something to think about besides Jordan.

  Someone knocked on her door and she pulled it open a crack, leaving the safety chain in place. “Hey, Brad,” she said to her party-giving neighbor.

  “We’ll be done by midnight,” he promised, raising his drink. “As per apartment regulations. Want to join us? There’s always room for one more and we have plenty of beer.”

  “Thanks, no,” Shae said with a tired and totally fake smile. “Maybe next time.”

  “Well, if you change your mind...”

  “Thanks.” She pushed the door shut, then wandered through her living room before finally settling on the sofa with the lights out and listening to the muffled voices of the partygoers. When her doorbell rang, she ignored it the first time, but after three rings, she got to her feet and once again pulled the door open as far as the chain would allow.

  Then she almost closed it again. It was Jordan, and she was so not ready to face him.

  “Can I come in?” he asked just before a guy stumbled sideways in the hall next to him. Shae undid the chain and allowed him in, closing the door behind him, shutting out the party.

  “I told you I wanted time to think,” she said.

  “I gave you time—”

  “Two hours?” she asked on a note of outrage.

  “I waited an hour before I started driving,” he said. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been going through hell alone and I just want to know...what do you want?”

  You. With no complications.

  As if.

  Shae forced herself to meet his very blue gaze and stay strong. “It’s what I don’t want, okay?”

  “You’re going to have to explain that.”

  “I don’t want you to resent me later for forcing you into choices you didn’t want to make.”

  Jordan shifted his weight and she had to give him points for taking time to process her words before saying, “Okay. We know what you don’t want. Now...what do you want?”

  Shae took a couple agitated paces toward the window, then turned back and pushed her hands through her hair in a gesture of frustration. “I want you to not be eaten alive by your hatred of Miranda.”

  “What else?” he asked patiently.

  “I want you to be at peace. I want you to train your horses and enjoy life and not...be angry and stressed all the time.” She sank down onto the sofa, staring straight across the room at the ornate hook on the wall where her wedding dress had once hung. “And I don’t know that selling the ranch would give you those things.”

  “It might.”

  “Yes. If you wanted to sell.” She rolled her head on the sofa cushion to look at him.

  “You’re not forcing me to do anything, Shae, except to come to my senses. You were right. I can’t live like this.” He sat down beside her, but he didn’t touch her. “Locks. Chains. Headaches from stress.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “A few. Less since I started forgiving my father and dealing with grief.”

  Shae felt her expression soften. “How’s that going?”

  “I’m making some progress,” he said, reaching over to take her hand in his. Automatically she threaded her fingers through his, needing the connection even though she didn’t know where this conversation was taking them.

  “You could sell the ranch.” It was more of a question than a statement.

  “I think so.”

  He sounded as if he meant it, not as though he was making a concession. But the ranch was such a part of him, and he seemed such a part of the ranch—the old ranch, pre-Miranda. She hated what had happened to his sanctuary...to him.

  “What if you could win?” Shae finally asked in a soft voice. “With locks and chains and asserting domain. What if you won?”

  “Meaning?”

  “If you won, by locking the gate, would it be enough? Would you be able to let go of the Miranda thing?”

  “I think the question is...would she be able to let go? Because one thing I’ve become pretty damned certain of over the past few days is that you’re the best thing in my life. But Miranda...she’s never going to stop, and that’s why I decided to sell.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s not because you’re forcing me to do anything.”

  “Could I?” she asked.

  “I’m more of a joint-decision kind of guy.”

  “So if I pushed really hard?”

  “We’d talk...like you tried to talk to me before. Negotiate, like you were trying to negotiate with me before.”

  She smiled a little. “I was negotiating?”

  He smiled back, lifting their joined hands and setting them on his hard thigh. “I know this is all new to you, give and take,” he said with just enough good humor that she didn’t get her back up, “but yes, you were negotiating. And we were talking.”

  She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cushions again, the smile still playing on her lips as she held his hand just a little tighter. Someone stumbled against the wall in the hallway, but Shae barely noticed.

  “That’s what this is about?” he asked in a low voice. “You being afraid of pushing me around?”r />
  “You can see where it’s a concern...right?”

  “Yes, but you weren’t forcing your will on me. You asked if I wanted to live my life the way I was—with bitterness, locks and chains. And I realized that I didn’t.” Their shoulders were touching now and Shae leaned into him. He was so warm and solid and...there. Jordan was there for her.

  She wanted to there for him, too. Her mouth quirked sideways. “I hate to give up the fight, too. But Jordan?” He turned his face toward hers and it was all she could do not to give in and kiss him. “I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself. That was why I had to leave.”

  “You’re more important to me than any damned vendetta.” He lifted their hands, kissed her knuckles, and Shae found that she couldn’t look away from his intense blue gaze. “I can’t let go of my feelings for Miranda just like that...but—” he let out a breath “—maybe with some assistance, I can learn to manage them.”

  Assistance. Shae liked the sound of that.

  “If you choose to not sell, to stay at the ranch, fight the good fight, I guess I want to be there with you. I have a thing or two I’d like to impart to Ashley if I ever get the chance,” she added in a low voice.

  “What about your job?”

  “I need to leave before I get fired again. But I don’t want to go to Miles City.”

  “Then what will you do?”

  “Whatever I can. If I have to leave real estate, I will. It doesn’t have to be forever.”

  “Just until someone throws a bucket of water on the wicked witch?” Jordan muttered.

  A smile wavered on Shae’s lips, then faded. “Finding a new job won’t be easy, but I could move into a cheaper apartment, or maybe get a roommate. I want to pursue this, Jordan. To see if it works.”

  A corner of his mouth curved up and he caressed the side of her face with the back of his injured hand. “It works.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Shifting his position so he was half facing her on the sofa he said simply, “It works.”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her, a deep, sweet kiss, so full of promise that she almost forgot what she was about to say. “We’ll make it work wherever we are,” he said against her lips.