To Court a Cowgirl

by Jeannie Watt

  “Clever,” Jason said as he took the phone back. Their fingers touched and she was struck by how nice it felt to simply touch and be touched. When he’d settled his hands on her shoulders the night before, it had been the same. She liked being near another person...another person who wasn’t Kyle.

  “I’m going to be late,” she said.

  ‘Yes,” he said with that gentle smile.

  Her face felt warm, as if she were blushing. Was she blushing?

  She hoped not. Being fair-skinned, it was always a possibility.

  She forced a smile and headed for her car, trying to focus on her workday instead of the guy she’d left standing near the pasture. She was going to do her best to find some positives in the day. Education was a good occupation. She’d trained for it, and paid a bundle for that training, and damn it, she was going to use her degree.

  * * *

  ZACH SHOWED UP almost forty minutes after seven. He slapped his hard hat on his head as he swaggered toward what remained of the barn.

  “Do you want to pry boards off today?” Jason asked, deciding to pick his battles. If the kid was late tomorrow, he’d address the issue. Right now he wanted the kid to work and not argue.

  “Whatever,” Zach replied.

  “Pull nails.”

  The kid shot him a dark look, but headed to the stack of boards that Jason had already piled. They worked in silence, just as they had the day before. Jason spoke to the kid every now and again, testing the waters, expecting nothing in return. Yes, the boy was angry. He was also seventeen and needed to find a different way to deal with anger than punishing the world around him.

  During lunch, Zach ate sitting on his tailgate while Jason ate sitting on his. He was determined not to let the kid’s attitude get to him, but truth to tell, his patience was wearing thin. After lunch, he tried one more time to make some kind of peace.

  “Why don’t you tackle that frame over there,” he said, nodding at a section of the wall that was lying flat on the ground.

  Zach practically sneered at him as he got off the tailgate and slammed it shut.

  “And while you’re at it, pull your head out of your ass.”

  Zach stopped in his tracks, his color rising as he turned to face Jason. “What did you say?”

  “I said you need to pull your head out of your ass.” Jason gave the kid a dead-eyed look. Zach knew exactly what he was talking about—he’d have to be pretty dense not to—so he didn’t feel the need to explain. After a nice long stare-down, Zach shouldered past him, grabbed the cat’s-paw up from where he’d been pulling nails and headed off to the section of wall that needed to be dismantled.

  Jason watched him go, glad that the kid hadn’t decided to chuck the cat’s-paw at his head or something. The way the kid started ripping and prying boards, he figured that the thought had probably crossed his mind.

  Jason went to work on his section of the building, far enough away from Zach that he was out of harm’s way should something go flying. Finally, after thirty silent minutes, he set down his hammer and walked around the barn to where Zach was working.

  “Look,” he said. “I might have been abrupt a while ago, but your attitude would get you fired from a normal job.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “You’re also almost an adult and you can’t take them out on the world. There are other ways to deal.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you suggest I deal?”

  “No easy answer there. But what you can’t do is be rude and combative to other people. That solves nothing.”

  “It makes me feel better.”

  “Does it?”

  Zach started to answer, then abruptly closed his mouth. He turned back to the frame and jammed the crowbar into a crack and started reefing. Jason also went back to work. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse, but he firmly believed in what he said—rudeness didn’t solve problems. It just made other people miserable, too.

  “You know,” he finally ventured, “we’re going to be together for a few weeks, so maybe we could talk. Like people do when they work together.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “General stuff. I don’t know. The weather, women...whatever.”

  “The three Ws,” Zach said with a smirk.

  Jason shot him a quick look, but the kid wasn’t smiling. He also wasn’t flinging nails quite as far. Breakthrough?

  Probably not quite.

  “Why don’t you tell me about women?” Zach said a few seconds later, his tone polite, yet with a hint of sarcasm.

  Jason gave him a look that the kid met blandly. Too blandly.

  Fine. He’d tell him about women. “Treat them with respect,” he said.

  “That’s it?”

  “Treat everyone with respect. Life will be better.”

  Zach shook his head and went back to work. Jason did the same while the air between them vibrated with sullen resentment.

  * * *

  ALLIE HAD WAITED all day for Jason’s call but it never came, and when she got home, Lou was still as big as a house, standing next to the windbreak, idly switching her tail. But one of the other cows had a brand-new baby frolicking around it.

  “Sorry about no call,” Jason said, pointing at the calf. “The thing was born before either of us noticed the cow was on the ground.”

  “That’s the way I wish all the calves would come.” Allie studied the demolition sight because it was easier than looking at Jason and feeling her breath go all wonky. “So how’d it go with Zach today? It looks like you made some headway on the heap.”

  “Better.”

  “You got him talking?”

  “Not really. I told him to pull his head out of his ass and he complied as best he could.”

  Allie’s jaw dropped. “Was that the best strategy?” She didn’t want Zach to quit and thus cause Liz more anxiety.

  “It worked.”

  “Seems harsh to me.”

  “There’s harsh and then there’s harsh. I told the kid that he wasn’t going to solve his problems by being rude and combative. I don’t think that’s too harsh.”

  “But pulling his head out of his ass?”

  Jason gave a small snort. “That was to get his attention.”

  “Did it work?” Allie asked.

  “The situation had to be addressed. Zach was setting it up so that I had to address it.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I do. So I gave him attention that he could handle. I honestly think had I gone all touchy-feely on him and offered to listen while he poured his guts out, he would have really crawled inside of himself.”

  “I can see why your dad wants you to sell cars.”

  His expression went flat. “Meaning?”

  “You seem to understand human nature.”

  “I’m used to reading opponents.”

  “It seems like a little more than that.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Careful, Allie...you’re edging close to a compliment.”

  She smirked at him.

  “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said in that low voice she was starting to really love to listen to.

  “Guess so,” she said. Damn it, she didn’t want him to leave.

  “Are you okay?”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, as if it were his fault that she found him attractive. “I’m think I’m as good as I’m going to get for now.”

  “Want to talk?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need anyone telling me to pull my head out.”

  Jason laughed and Allie fought her answering smile. She lost.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jason.” She turned and started toward the house, wondering if
she looked back suddenly if she would catch Jason Hudson watching her leave.

  Was it wrong that a small part of her hoped that he was?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ZACH SHOWED UP at exactly seven o’clock the next morning and he seemed to think he deserved a medal or something. Jason merely directed him back to the wall he’d been dismantling and started pulling nails out of the used board. He actually liked pulling nails. There was something satisfying about the feel of the metal pulling free of the wood.

  Simple pleasures...like running a pattern, dodging his coverage, looking over his shoulder and seeing the ball coming in right on target. Yeah. A simple pleasure that he’d been paid lots of money to partake in, which in turn prepared him for absolutely nothing once his career had ended.

  He was lucky, though, that he’d taken care with his money instead of blowing it all. Financially, he was going to be fine, as long as he didn’t do anything extravagant—like try to live without an income. He needed a job and he needed a reason to get out of bed in the morning. A plan.

  Zach didn’t glower at him today, but he wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, either. As long as he wasn’t blatantly rude, Jason planned to ignore him. It worked out well. Zach ignored him, he ignored Zach. Finally the kid couldn’t take it anymore.

  “So you’re all rich and shit, right?”

  “I planned for my future, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jason said.

  “So why are you doing this?” Zach stood upright, holding the crowbar loosely in one hand.

  “I like it.”

  Zach stared at him. “How can you like this?”

  Jason shrugged. “I like being outdoors.” More than he ever thought he would when he wasn’t practicing or playing. He wedged his crowbar in between two boards and pried. “What’s not to like?”

  “Pay’s crap, it’s temporary and like you said, it’s outdoors.”

  “I would have thought you’d like the outdoors,” Jason said.

  “Why?”

  “You’re a ranch kid.”

  Zach’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Was a ranch kid.”

  “So you never liked the outdoors?”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve come to realize that I won’t be working on a ranch.”

  “There are other ranches.”

  “You know my situation, don’t you?” Zach spoke flatly, in a voice that indicated that he didn’t want sympathy. That he would find it embarrassing.

  “I know that you were supposed to work on your family ranch and it fell through.”

  Zach snorted. “That’s an interesting way to put it. Fell through. Yeah.”

  Jason didn’t reply. There was nothing to say and talking would only make Zach feel more self-conscious.

  “My dad hooked up with this woman and he doesn’t want me on the ranch.” His expression was openly challenging, although Jason didn’t know what he was being challenged to do. Or not do. “My dad sucks.”

  “My dad wants me to sell cars for my uncle.”

  “How the hell is that the same?” Zach demanded.

  “It’s not, and you know what? You can drop the hells and shits around me.”

  “Do they offend you?” The kid sneered as he spoke.

  “Yeah. They do.” He didn’t have the cleanest mouth in the world, but he was conscious of what he said and when.

  “Bullshi—” Zach’s voice trailed as Jason gave him a hard look. “Fine. I’ll watch my language. I’d hate to burn your ears.”

  “Thank you.” Jason went back to the woodpile.

  “Is this for real?” Zach asked from behind him.

  “When we know each other better, we can hang out and drop the f-bomb and have all kinds of fun. But one thing you need to know—people judge you by your language. If you’re not with friends, watch what you say.”

  Zach’s forehead wrinkled and Jason thought the kid was on the edge of telling him to go to hell. Just because. He didn’t. Instead he gave his head a shake, as if trying to make sense of a world gone mad, and went back to stripping boards off the frame.

  Once again they ate on their respective tailgates and Jason wondered if he’d made a mistake by telling the kid to watch his mouth, because now he was totally silent. He didn’t know if he was being taught a lesson, or if Zach didn’t trust himself not to curse. Jason assumed it was the former, so once again he ignored the boy.

  His phone rang in his pocket and he was tempted to ignore it, but couldn’t because it might be Kate calling about their father. He pulled out the phone and was glad he hadn’t given in to the temptation to reach into his pocket and silence it. A San Diego area code showed on the screen.

  His heart gave a hard thump as he answered.

  “Mr. Hudson? This is Amanda Morehouse from Brandt University athletics department. How are you today?”

  “Doing well,” Jason said. Except for a sudden and unexpected clenching of his gut.

  “Excellent. I see where you applied for the position of assistant to the associate director of athletics and I would like to set up a time for a preliminary interview if you’re interested in pursuing the position.”

  “I’m interested.”

  “Excellent. We can schedule you for Wednesday at eight or Thursday at nine.”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Excellent. You’ll need a phone and a laptop...” She continued with the instructions while Zach, who’d been watching him closely, balled up the paper bag his sandwiches had come in and eased himself off the tailgate. Three “excellents” later, Amanda finished, wished him good luck and Jason hung up.

  “Hot date?” Zach asked.

  “Job interview.”

  “Huh.” Zach reached for his hard hat and plopped it onto his head. “If I was rich, I wouldn’t work.”

  “Guess we’re different, then.” Because Jason would be bored out of his skull.

  * * *

  JASON AND ZACH had been getting ready to leave when Allie drove onto the ranch, late due to grocery shopping. After she’d unloaded her car and put away her purchases, she set a frozen dinner in the microwave and then paced the kitchen a few times. She felt antsy, unsettled. In need of something that didn’t have a name.

  Jason?

  Okay, maybe part of what she needed did have a name. But this edgy, unsettled feeling had to do with something more than Jason’s overall hotness and her reaction to it. It was tied in with her job and her future and her general frustration about having no clear direction. And there were other things she needed to face.

  The microwave dinged, but Allie ignored it. She wasn’t hungry.

  Do it. Now.

  Squaring her shoulders for battle, Allie headed upstairs to the attic entrance at the end of the hall. Once there, she folded the rug back so that the door could swing out. A wave of cold musty air hit her as she opened the door, and she wrinkled her nose as she reached up to pull the light cord.

  She hadn’t been up these dusty stairs since Kyle left. She hadn’t wanted to go up them. Hadn’t wanted to disturb the memories she’d stored away. Her sisters had had no such qualms. They’d raided the attic, brought down her garden paintings and hung them, thus shocking the hell out of her when she’d come home on a school break.

  The rest of her paintings were leaning against the far wall of the attic, each covered with an old bath towel or cloth in a weak attempt to protect them from the dust. It had worked...kind of.

  Allie didn’t look at the paintings as she stacked them, covers still in place. There were eight in all. Her “major” works. She took them downstairs, leaving the attic door open behind her, and then slowly uncovered each painting and laid it out on the living room floor.

  She remembered them, yet she didn’t. There were landscapes, garden scenes and tw
o still lifes of different arrangements of Jolie’s rodeo gear. They were all colorful, all done with loose brushstrokes that her art teacher had once told her he envied. He’d liked her work a lot, had encouraged her to go to art school, but now that she’d had a good half decade away from painting, she could see things she would change.

  A knock on the door made her jump. Jason. She got to her feet, crossed the room and opened the door. He shifted his weight, just as he had that night he’d first shown up. If anyone had told her then, after she’d sent him packing when he’d asked to buy her ranch, that not only would he be on the ranch on a daily basis, but that her body would also go on high alert every time she was close to him, she would have laughed. But right now she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt self-conscious about her life laid out on the floor behind her.

  “You’re still here?”

  His mouth tilted. “It appears I am. What’s up, Allie?”

  And just like that the focus shifted from the reason why he was standing at her door to what was eating at her. She was going to have to work on her game face.

  She gave a slight shrug. “Just facing my past.”

  “Sounds heavy.”

  She forced a smile. “It’s not really.” She gestured at the canvases on the floor behind her. “I hauled paintings down from the attic.” She hesitated ever so briefly before saying, “I need to do something with them.”

  It was the honest truth. The need to see the paintings in decent light, to gauge her personal reaction to them, had been weighing on her for the past several days. It was as if her artwork were yet another chapter in her life that needed to be closed.

  “You said this was a phase.”

  Allie made a noncommittal noise as Jason edged by her to get a better look at her work. After a few seconds, he glanced up at her, his gaze clear and questioning. “Why did you stop painting?”

  “I had other things filling my time.”

  “These are good.”

  “Know a lot about art?”

  The comment came out sounding snottier than she’d intended, but before she could take it back he surprised her by saying, “Yeah. I do. I dated a gallery owner for a while. Learned some stuff. Took a few classes.” He shrugged.