Shit, he just about missed his turn. He jerked the wheel in a quick left and slowed as he cruised down the strip. Sure enough, a small crowd had gathered in front of Butter Buns Bakery. He slowed and pulled over to parallel park at the curb. This didn’t look good.
The people who’d gathered around Luis parted as Lance jogged down the sidewalk.
“Get the hell away from me,” his dad was shouting at Mrs. Eckles.
“Whoa.” Lance rushed to his father’s side. “Dad. What’s wrong?”
“He’s very agitated,” Mrs. Eckles prattled in her know-it-all way. She shook her head, the bifocals strung around her neck clanking. “All I did was ask if he needed something. He looked so confused. And when I told him I was going to call over to your place, you should’ve seen him. Cursing and screaming like a lunatic.”
“She was badgering me,” Luis put in, glaring at Mrs. Eckles like he wanted to pop her in the face.
Damn, this went way beyond ornery. “I’m sorry about this, Mrs. Eckles,” Lance said, delivering the words with a polite smile. But chaos raged underneath it. What the hell was his father’s problem? Making a scene like this in the middle of town? “I’ll get him home.” He clamped a hand onto Luis’s shoulder and dragged him away before the woman decided to press charges.
His father jerked out of his grip. “I don’t need you coming to pick me up. Acting like I’m the one who’s crazy.”
Lance growled out a sigh. Is that what happened when people got older? They stopped caring what everyone thought and did whatever they wanted? “Where’s Jessa, Dad?” he asked, trying to control the venom in his tone.
“How the hell should I know?” his father shot back.
That forced him to a stop. “Because you left the house with her. To go help at the clinic.”
A look of understanding dawned in his dad’s blank eyes.
Tremors took over Lance’s stomach. “Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” his father snapped. “I wanted to go for a walk, that’s all. I got thirsty and I wanted to go for a walk.”
Lance studied him. The man’s hands were trembling. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” his father said, a little softer. “Just so thirsty.”
Relief swept through him. He’d probably gotten dehydrated. At some point, he’d have to talk to Jessa about making sure Luis drank plenty of water. “All right, old man,” he said lightly, steering his father toward the truck. “I think I’ve got an extra water bottle in the tr—”
“Luis!”
Lance spun. Jessa sprinted toward them, her arms flailing, long hair sailing behind her.
“Where have you been?” she rasped, pressing one hand against her heaving chest.
Damn…the way she filled out a shirt…
“I went for a walk,” Luis muttered, refusing to look at Jessa.
“A walk?” she choked out. “A walk?” If it was possible, her face got redder. “How could you do that, Luis? Huh? How could you just walk away without telling me where you were going?”
A couple passing by on the street paused to stare at Jessa.
Yeah, she was a little fired up. “Dad needs some water. He’s thirsty.” Lance slipped an arm around her waist and tried coaxing her to the truck so they could move this discussion somewhere more private.
“I have the right to go for a walk if I want to,” his father insisted.
Jessa halted and squirmed out of Lance’s grip. “I asked you to get the ladder out of Hank Green’s garage. And you never came back.” She turned to Lance, her eyes wild with indignation. “And then I found the ladder lying in the middle of the front yard and Luis had simply disappeared.”
What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t make excuses for his father’s behavior.
“I was thirsty,” Luis said again. “I wanted something to drink.”
“Then you should’ve told me that,” Jessa whispered, as though she was still having a hard time breathing. “I could’ve gotten you a drink, Luis.” She swayed a little, as if the stress of losing his father had gone to her head. Once again, Lance secured an arm around her, trying not to notice how good she smelled.
This time, she allowed him to lead her to the truck. Luis got into the passenger’s seat and Lance handed him a water bottle from a cooler in the back.
Jessa had leaned against the bed of the truck, staring off into space as though trying to collect her wits.
“He didn’t mean to scare you,” Lance said, coming up beside her and nudging her shoulder with his. “He’s always had a mind of his own. But he doesn’t do stuff like that on purpose.”
“He never does stuff like that to me, Lance,” she said quietly. Her face turned to his, and for the first time he noticed the red rims around her eyes. She’d been crying. Some protective instinct ballooned inside him and he wanted to wipe away her tears and make sure she never had another reason to cry.
Yes, Jessa was strong. She had a lot of sass. But she was also compassionate and seemed to feel everything so deeply. Maybe he appreciated that about her even more than he appreciated her sexy legs.
“I’ll talk to him. Make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Lance promised, and God help him, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He trailed his fingers at the base of her jaw, sweeping back the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
“I think…” Her gaze strayed from his. “I think something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“With your father. I think something’s wrong with him.”
“He got thirsty and he’s used to doing what he wants when he wants.” That was it. The older he got, the more stubborn he got.
“Lance…” Jessa took his hand in hers and it felt so out of place but so right, her soft smooth skin covering his rough callused knuckles. “I think you need to take him to the doctor. To have him checked out.”
“What?” He pulled his hands to his sides.
Jessa peered up at him, her face steeled as it had been earlier that morning when they’d had their little chat in the kitchen. “He’s had short-term memory loss twice now…”
“That’s not memory loss.” His hands twitched and he pulled them into fists. Clearly, the man was fine. “He got turned around in the mountains. And today he just wanted a damn drink of water.”
“So he left a ladder in the middle of Hank Green’s yard and walked ten blocks to Main Street for a drink?” she challenged. “Why didn’t he go into the house to get a drink?”
“He hates that man.” Everyone knew that. Jessa knew that. Why had she even taken him there? That was probably what started this whole debacle. “He’d never set foot in Hank Green’s house willingly.”
Jessa stepped up to him. “I think he got disoriented. I think he didn’t remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “He wouldn’t walk away like that when I asked him to do something. He’s never done that.”
Lance threw up his hands. What did she want from him? “Cut the man some slack,” he said, dismissing her concerns. “He’s almost seventy. He probably shouldn’t be carrying ladders around anyway.”
Jessa glared at him for a silent minute. Then she strode close and got in his face. “I know you don’t want to hear this. But something’s wrong with him.”
She was right about one thing. He didn’t want to hear an uneducated diagnosis. “He was at the doctor three months ago and he’s healthy as a horse.” Those were the doc’s exact words. Trying to appease her, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Now I’m gonna take him home. Let him rest. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed for the truck before she could argue.
Chapter Thirteen
There was a reason Darla had named her establishment the Chocolate Therapist. She firmly believed that every problem could be solved with the right wine and chocolate pairing. And in Jessa’s experience, she was almost always right.
In need of some serious therapy after that little exchange with Lance, Jessa marched herself down four and a half blocks and charged through the familiar stained-glass door.
A few patrons sat around the tall pub tables, leaf-peeping tourists from the looks of their designer clothing. All of them had flights of wine and an assortment of truffles to match.
Somehow just inhaling that rich, cocoa scent made Jessa feel better already.
Darla was stationed behind the counter, walking a young couple through the menu, so Jessa slunk to the far corner stool at the main bar and plopped herself down, replaying that conversation with Lance again.
He probably shouldn’t be carrying ladders around anyway.
As if Luis disappearing was her fault. Her shoulders sank lower. She only wanted to help the man, and yet Lance had completely dismissed her like her opinion didn’t matter at all. It wasn’t just the situation with the ladder. She’d noticed the tremors, things she’d originally written off as his arthritis acting up, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Wow, who pissed in your coffee today?” Darla appeared before her with a tray of truffles and a flight of reds.
Her angel of mercy.
The woman set the trays on the counter beside Jessa and pulled over a stool. “Looked like you could use something strong, so I brought all darks and a bittersweet.”
“Perfect,” Jessa, said before popping one of the cocoa-dusted confections into her mouth. Then she sipped on the first glass. Closing her eyes to hold on to the taste, she swallowed. “Better already,” she said with a sigh.
“You want to talk about it?” her friend asked in a tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Who was Jessa kidding? Her face was an open comedic tragedy. She’d never been one to hide her emotions.
“This arrangement is more complicated than I thought it would be,” she admitted, going for another truffle. The chocolate melted in her mouth.
“What is? Staying at a ranch with a sexy single cowboy while you babysit his aging father?” Sarcasm dripped from her smile. “How could that possibly be complicated?”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. She’d set herself up for this. It had all seemed so simple. Until her body and heart betrayed her and attached themselves to a man who had zero ability to commit.
“All right. This looks bad. What happened?” Darla asked, leaning her chin into her fist as though she knew they’d be there awhile.
“You have customers to take care of.” And she felt more like wallowing alone.
“Beth can take care of the customers and I can take care of you.” Out of all of them, Darla happened to be the most motherly. Well…if your mother liked to make off-color jokes, flirt with much younger men, and only wear shirts that showed plenty of cleavage.
“Come on,” Darla prompted. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
Not likely. But she relayed the entire story anyway, popping the truffles into her mouth and washing them down with sips of the decadent wine between sentences.
Darla said nothing. She wore the same concentrated expression she did whenever she was testing out a new recipe.
“So that’s it, I guess. I think something’s wrong with Luis. Lance doesn’t care what I think.” That about summed it up. He didn’t respect her enough to value her opinion.
“Am I missing something here?” Darla leaned in, her dark eyes wide and emphatic. “Isn’t he the one who asked for your help? For you to stay with his father and keep an eye on him?”
“Yes.” Exactly. He wanted her there, but he didn’t want to hear what she thought.
“Here’s what you’re gonna do, honey,” Darla said, waiting until Jessa looked her in the eyes. “You’re gonna drive back to the ranch. March that cute little ass of yours right up to Lance’s front door and ask him if he still wants your help with his father.”
Jessa tried to take mental notes. That sounded easy.
“Then, when he says yes—because he will say yes—you’re going to tell him he doesn’t get to ignore you. Since you are doing him a favor, he will listen and consider what you say.” A grin broke through her titanium expression. “Then you tell him he’s not allowed to kiss you again unless he intends to fully finish the job.”
Jessa rolled her eyes. “I’ll take everything else and leave out that last part.”
“Come on.” Darla swatted at her. “What good is taking on a second job if you can’t take advantage of some of the perks?” She nibbled on a truffle. “Trust me, honey. Lance Cortez’s body is one hell of a perk.”
That was one way to describe it…
“Besides, maybe if you two really got it on, all this tension would go away and you’d be able to move on.”
Jessa choked on a sip of wine. “I don’t think so.” If she was going to stick it out at the ranch until Worlds, she couldn’t make things more awkward than they already were.
“Here.” Darla reached into the pocket of her apron and dug out some wrapped truffles. “Take these with you. A new blend. Pop one in your mouth before you talk to him.” Her eyebrows arched. “Trust me.”
Jessa held out her palm and carefully examined the dark mounds of goodness. “Isn’t chocolate an aphrodisiac?” Because she didn’t need any help in that area. Not with Lance.
Darla simply gave her an innocent smile before she stood and waltzed away.
* * *
All the way to Lance’s house, Jessa practiced. She practiced saying exactly the words Darla had given her. She practiced in a bitchy voice, an apathetic voice, then decided that was too much and tried to add a note of sympathy. All in all, she must’ve said the words fifty times and yet as she climbed the stairs to his front porch, her mind blanked.
But there was no turning back now. Before she could overthink it, she knocked on the door. A sudden explosion of nerves blew inside her and she quickly unwrapped the truffle that had been melting in her pocket and popped it into her mouth. Some brand of heavenly merlot leaked through the chocolate, bringing a symphony of fruity notes. Good, fun-loving lord, enough of these chocolates and she’d never need sex again.
The door opened and Lance stepped out. He was dressed in a faded gray T-shirt and sinfully tight worn jeans. They should be illegal in all fifty states, those jeans.
Okay. So maybe never needing sex again was a bit strong…
“Hi,” he said, straightening as though he was surprised to see her. “Everything okay?”
Right. That was her cue. Everything was not okay. But she couldn’t seem to manage the words. “Um.” She cleared her throat so she didn’t sound like Lauren Bacall. “We need to talk.” Because she had stuff to say. Lots of important stuff…
She tried to play back Darla’s badass lecture in her mind, but a steady humming drowned it out.
“Okay…” Lance stepped aside and made room for her to walk past him. On the way, she caught that alluring scent that seemed to cling to him. Something woodsy and sexy. Keep going, she reminded her feet. She couldn’t stand too close to him.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked politely, leading her through his family room and into the kitchen, where they’d had their little exchange earlier. Just like that morning, she positioned herself far away, on the opposite side of the kitchen island.
“No.” No drinks. She had to get this over with. She braced her hands against the countertop and looked at him directly before she lost the nerve. “You don’t get to ignore me,” she announced, and wow, Darla would have been so impressed. She sounded pissed.
Lance blinked at her.
Courage bloomed. “I mean, I’m only trying to help, and you acted like I’m causing some big problem for your father. Instead of listening to me, you load him up in the car and get out of there like my concerns don’t matter. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” She started to pace. Once she got going, it was hard to stop. “I searched everywhere. I ran up and down the block looking in everyone’s yard, going up to neighbors’ doors and asking if they’d seen him. In
case you haven’t noticed, Lance,” she said glaring at him again, “I care about Luis, too.” A silent round of applause broke out in her head. She’d done it! Without letting him get a word in, even.
Lance’s eyes were darker, narrow. She braced herself for a defensive tirade like he’d thrown at her earlier, but instead he sighed. “You’re right.” His hand raked though his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what, Lance,” she said before she’d had time to process the words. Hold on. He hadn’t argued with her. He’d…apologized? Just like that? “Huh?”
“You’re right.” The man’s normally broad and powerful shoulders seemed to have bent under some unseen weight. “I shouldn’t have brushed you off.”
She should be gloating. That was exactly what she’d wanted him to say. But the clear dejection that pulled at his mouth halted the victory party. “Okay, then. Thank you.” The words sounded hollow and awkward. There was no script for this. Darla hadn’t told her what to say if Lance started apologizing…
“I should’ve heard you out. I’m under a lot of pressure right now.” His jaw tensed as he studied her, almost like he wanted to say something more, but decided against it.
“Because of Worlds?” she asked, trying to read what he wouldn’t say.
Instead of answering, he walked to the table and picked up a magazine, then tossed it on the counter in front of her. “Because of this.”
She grabbed the newest copy of Rodeo World News and her heart sank at the article’s title: “Hometown Letdown.”
Her eyes scanned the editorial—written by an anonymous source—which detailed Lance’s fall from the highest acclaim in the rodeo world. It outlined his entire career—the early years of his success, the World title years ago. Then it detailed his fall from glory. The disappointing times, the disqualifications, the fact that he’d barely even qualified for Worlds this year. He has proven that he’s not his father, the great Luis Cortez, who at thirty was taking the top score in every competition…
Luckiest Cowboy of All--Two full books for the price of one Page 41