“Something smells good.”
Camille looked up from the stove and returned Jericho’s smile with one of her own. Dressed in a black cotton shirt and relaxed jeans, he seemed perfectly at ease and comfortable with himself.
She wondered how he pulled that off. Not that she was uncomfortable with herself exactly. It just seemed like she was always striving to reach that elusive goal that would mean she’d finally made it. To finally have the proof that she was good enough. She hated always looking over her shoulder to see who was gaining on her. She didn’t like thinking there was only one brass ring in the world and she had to be the one to grab it and hold on to it at all costs.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Why do you ask?” Camille blinked and tried to regain her tranquility.
“You had the saddest expression on your face.”
She shook her head, then turned back to the pan and flipped over the sausage. All this time on her hands was giving her too much room to think. Not that she was against introspection. She just was unsure about what she was going to do with the information she unearthed. What did all this self-awareness matter if she wasn’t in a position to change who she was?
“I’m fine. Just thinking about my situation.” Not the killers after her, but the rest of her life, which she was discovering was a mess. “I’d rather not talk about it. I’d like to have a few minutes where I could pretend all was good.”
“Okay.” Jericho raised the top of the waffle iron and lifted out the golden waffles and placed them on a plate. He expertly spread butter across them before adding more batter.
“I didn’t think you could cook.”
“Didn’t see much point in cooking just for myself.”
“You must miss Jeanette.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. That one whispered word spoke more powerfully of how painful his life had been since Jeanette’s death than an entire speech. That one word described grief so deep it was physical. Emptiness so wide the entire house groaned with it.
Knowing nothing she could say would ease his pain, she didn’t try. Instead, she nodded, signaling her understanding. The quiet lasted until they’d nearly finished eating breakfast. Although it had started out filled with sorrow, it had eased into a companionable silence.
But Camille craved conversation. She ate without talking at home, the only voices those on her television set or the radio. Having another person around, even Jericho, was a treat.
“Is it hard to take care of horses?” Although she’d simply been searching for an easy topic, she realized she wanted to know. “They’re so big. I hate to admit it, but up close, they seem a little bit scary.”
He chewed a piece of sausage, taking his time before answering. “I’m not sure what you mean by hard. It takes work. Like any other animal, horses need to be fed. They also need exercise. Brushing. Things like that.” He swallowed the last of his coffee and rose. “Speaking of which, I’d better get out there. Thanks for making breakfast. I’d remind you that you don’t have to cook for me, but I like your cooking just a little too much.”
He reached for his plate, and she stopped him with a hand on his. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You have animals waiting for you.”
He turned back when he reached the door. “If you want, you can come meet the horses. You’ll see that they’re nothing to be afraid of.”
She hesitated. She needed to overcome her fear, but jumping in with both feet seemed a little rash. Maybe she could look at them from a distance.
She couldn’t believe herself. When had she become so timid? Besides, Jericho would be there. Not that she would need him. She was strong. “Sure. When’s good?”
“Give me a couple hours.”
“How’s ten sound?”
“Perfect.” He put on his cowboy hat, then opened the door. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard him whistling as he left. The joy in that sound was contagious, and although she didn’t know how to whistle, she could hum. So she did.
* * *
“I know, I’m late,” Jericho said as he reached the storage bin. He grabbed the measuring cup and bucket so he could begin filling the troughs. Buttercup snorted and knocked her head against his shoulder. He gave her a pat on her neck, then moved on to the next stall. As he fed Sundance, he could hear Diablo stomping his foot against the floor, clearly displeased at being kept waiting to eat.
When he reached Diablo’s stall, he measured and poured grain for his favorite horse, then leaned against the wall. “You wouldn’t be so grumpy if you knew what happened. It would have been rude of me to skip breakfast after Camille went to so much trouble to cook for me.” Not that good manners and food were the only things that kept him in the kitchen.
He frowned, not liking that thought at all. Jeanette had been his wife. She’d been the only woman who could make him lose track of time. The only woman capable of making him forget there had been a world apart from the two of them. He’d loved her completely. He still did. There was no room for Camille or any other woman in his life, much less his heart.
The stallion didn’t look up from his food. Jericho locked the stall to let him eat in peace while he wrestled with his conflicted feelings. When the horses had finished eating, he led them into the corral, then started cleaning the stalls. He was putting away the shovel and wheelbarrow when he heard footsteps. He turned as Camille approached. She’d dressed in a simple top that emphasized her tiny waist and her new jeans and boots that showcased her mile-long legs. Although the clothes were no different from those worn by hundreds of other women, they somehow looked sexier and more appealing on her. Her hips swayed seductively as she grew nearer, and desire exploded through him like a grenade. He exhaled as he struggled to gain control of his body.
He tried reminding himself that a pretty outside didn’t always make for a pretty inside, but he wasn’t as successful today as he’d been in the past. Now that he’d spent time with Camille, he was discovering she wasn’t ugly inside. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t interested. He couldn’t allow himself to be.
“Where are the horses?” she asked, a quizzical smile on her face.
“In the corral. I needed to clean the stalls.”
“Do you need help?”
Camille Parker was actually volunteering to sweep horse crap? No way. She probably had no idea what was involved. She was a city girl, after all. “No. I’m done. Come on.”
She walked beside him. Her legs were nearly as long as his, so he didn’t need to shorten his stride. As they neared the horses, Camille moved so close to him her shoulder bumped his and their thighs brushed. Her sweet scent mingled with the smell of fresh grass. The combination was heady and more appealing than anything he had smelled in the longest time. His body reacted instantly; he needed to get lasting control and not just another five-second fix.
He took a few more steps before he realized she was no longer beside him. Camille was frozen some feet away, her eyes focused on the corral.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just not so sure this is a good idea.”
He could spend the next hour talking to her, trying to convince her she had nothing to fear, or he could just show her how gentle his horses were. People used to come from three states to have him work with their horses. He’d never met one he couldn’t tame. His were the best of the best.
She turned her turbulent eyes to his. “I know someone who was bitten by a horse.”
“Really?”
“Yes. In high school. One of my classmates was bitten on the thigh. She showed me the bruise. It was gigantic. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t imagine how much that hurt, but it had to be a lot.”
Jericho nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “Horses have been known to bite, but not mine. My horses are well trained a
nd docile. I’d never put you in danger.”
“I know. Still...” She looked at the horse’s enormous teeth and shuddered.
“Ingrained fears can take time to overcome. There’s no pressure. I thought you would enjoy riding to sort of kill time.” He winced. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“It’s not like I’ve forgotten why I’m here. The fear is always with me. Sometimes it’s only a low hum and at other times it’s a shriek. But I’m always aware of my situation. I’m always scared.”
Her confession surprised him. He didn’t expect her to be that open with him. “Are you scared right now?”
“Yes. The fear is more like a whisper, but still, it’s there.”
“That’s no way to live. Do you have any idea how much longer the investigation will last?”
“Not really. Agent Delgado said things would start to speed up. Then he had the accident.”
“A case this big will make the news. We should start checking the internet for information every day.”
“I will.”
She looked so miserable he had to do something to help. “Wait here.”
He hopped over the fence, walked up to Buttercup. He rubbed his hand down her neck, well aware that Camille was watching his every move. The horse nickered, and Camille jumped. Jericho grabbed the horse’s halter and led her to the fence. “You don’t have to be afraid. Buttercup is as gentle as they come. She loves people.”
Camille stood still, yet he could practically see the wheels whirling in her head as she debated internally. Finally she stiffened her spine, lifted her chin and took a determined step in his direction. Just as he expected, her pride wouldn’t let her turn tail and run, at least not with him there as a witness. If he hadn’t been watching closely he might have missed the way her hands trembled before she shoved them into her pockets. He admired the way she was facing her fears.
She reached the fence and leaned against it. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with trust. His heart stumbled at her faith in him. But hadn’t she shown that same trust when she’d arrived on his doorstep? Despite the previous bad blood between them, she’d believed in her heart that he would protect her.
Of course he would. He wasn’t the type of man who would turn his back on anyone in need, even if that person had previously been the one and only name on his enemy list. But he hadn’t expected Camille to know that. Yet she had. Later he would think about what, if anything, that meant. For now, he needed to help her overcome her fear of horses.
“Just relax. You’re perfectly safe.”
Camille gave a shadow of her luminous smile.
“Buttercup likes when you pat the side of her neck.” He demonstrated, brushing his hand over the horse.
Camille reached over the fence as if she were putting her hand in a box of snakes and touched Buttercup with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes lit up, and she gasped. “She’s so soft.”
“Yes.”
She smoothed her entire hand over Buttercup’s neck in a gentle caress. He wondered how her hands would feel on his bare chest before he banished the disloyal thought. Jeanette had been his one and only. He would never be unfaithful to her. Especially with Camille. She was the absolute worst person in the world for him. His mind knew that, so why didn’t his body?
“Now what should I do?” she asked, dragging him back to the present.
“You can keep patting her on the neck. She really likes that.”
Camille stroked the horse with more confidence, and this time her smile was bright. “What about carrots and sugar cubes? Is it true they like to eat them, or is that an old wives’ tale?”
“It’s true. And I just happen to have a few with me.”
He took a carrot from his shirt pocket. Although he could have told Camille how to hold her hand to safely feed Buttercup, he didn’t. Instead he took her hand in his, marveling at just how small and soft it was. She didn’t resist when he turned her hand over, palm up, and placed the carrot there. “Always keep your fingers flat.”
Buttercup lowered her head and took the treat, her lips moving over Camille’s hand.
“That tickles,” Camille said and dissolved into giggles. She sounded so much like a young girl that Jericho had a hard time remembering she was a financial big shot. The carefree sound transported Jericho back to happier times when the ranch was filled with laughter and joy. Love. He’d been happy, loving every minute of his days. Lately he’d just been trying to get from sunrise to sunset. Oddly enough, he hadn’t felt that way today.
“This is fun.”
“Do you want me to saddle her for you?”
Camille backed away with her hands upraised. “Not yet.” She looked down at her feet as if unable to meet his eyes and brushed at her jeans. “I know you must think I’m stupid or chicken.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Nah, City Girl. You’ve seen evidence of what a horse can do. I’m proud of you for even touching Buttercup and letting her eat from your hand. That’s a big step.”
* * *
Camille felt warm all over at Jericho’s compliment. She knew it was sincere, which made it even more precious. But the warmth was quickly followed by discomfort. Why did his opinion of her matter so much? She hadn’t thought about him in years. But now she was literally running for her life and he was protecting her. Jericho was the only thing standing between her and a killer. Maybe that’s why she was starting to see him differently. Why she was suddenly finding him more attractive. But this wasn’t real life. The killers would be caught and she would return to New York. Once things went back to normal, these insane feelings would surely vanish.
She took refuge in small talk. “How many horses do you have?”
“Eleven.”
“Do you offer horseback rides?”
“You mean like a business for tourists?”
She nodded.
“No. I breed horses. My horses are docile enough for even the most inexperienced riders, of course.” He rubbed Buttercup’s neck again.
“Do you breed them to race?”
“No. Midnight has great lines and I’d dreamed of it once. But that was before.”
Before Jeanette died.
He looked over the fields, lost in his thoughts. She knew he wasn’t seeing the acres of rolling green hills surrounding them. Perhaps he was visualizing the past when Jeanette was alive and his life was wonderful.
She sensed he needed to be alone. She could do with a little distance herself. “Thanks for introducing me to your horses.”
His smile was just a faint replica of the one he’d bestowed upon her earlier. “My pleasure. You’re welcome to come around anytime.”
“Thanks.” She stepped away, then turned back. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to work in the garden. It’s kind of overrun with weeds and could use some pruning.”
“Getting antsy?”
“Sort of. Being busy will help keep my scary thoughts under control.” In theory, at least. “I’d enjoy it.”
“I’ll get the tools for you.”
She watched as he went. Maybe a few hours digging in the dirt would be what she needed to straighten out her tangled emotions.
Chapter Seven
Camille stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing her hands. She’d broken two nails while gardening, but she didn’t mind. Digging in the soil may have ruined her manicure, but it had soothed her soul and relaxed her spirit. There was still a long way to go before the garden was restored to its former glory, but she’d made substantial progress. She’d trimmed shrubs and pulled countless weeds. Jericho had found a bag of fertilizer, and she’d spread that. When she was finished he’d have a pretty view right outside his window.
Moving the curtain aside, she peered out the window. The stable was visible and she could see Jericho as he strode through the barn door, moving as c
onfidently as ever. He crossed the grass, Shadow barking and running in circles around him. Jericho’s gait was easy, and his long legs ate up the ground. His chest was broad and muscular, but not the unnatural size of men who lifted weights in public and swallowed steroids in secret. His physique was the result of hard work. Not an inch of fat lay beneath his blue chambray shirt. When she’d first arrived, she’d thought he was too thin. Now she knew better.
Her eyes traveled to his face. She’d never found pretty boys appealing, and that hadn’t changed. Jericho had strong features that reflected his inner strength. His jaw was square with a five o’clock shadow beginning to make an appearance. His dark eyes were intelligent, and his lips were just full enough to make her wonder what they would feel like pressed against hers in a real kiss. Or skimming over her body. She forced the thought away before it could take root in her heart. He wasn’t interested in her in that way. And she certainly shouldn’t think of him that way either.
She dried her hands and moved away from the window as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Sorry I’m late. I wanted to get in here earlier to help you, but one of the horses had a bit of trouble settling down.”
He looked from her to the table. She’d picked a bunch of yellow and purple flowers and arranged them in a vase, creating a simple centerpiece.
He brushed a finger over a purple blossom. “Fancy. Give me a few minutes to shower and put on clean clothes.”
After he left she looked at her own clothes, wishing she had on something other than her denim shorts and pale yellow tank top. There was no way she could change now, though. That would be too obvious. Besides, what would she change into? Her entire wardrobe consisted of clothes like these.
She rushed to the powder room and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulder-length black hair looked as good as could be expected considering she’d missed her regularly scheduled salon appointment and didn’t have any of her styling tools. She ran a hand through it, taming her natural waves. Her eyes were clear and bright. She didn’t have any makeup with her, and purchasing it had been out of the question. It wasn’t a necessity. Fortunately, time in the sun had given her skin a nice glow. All things considered, she looked okay.
The Rancher and the City Girl Page 7