by Honor James
Shaking his head, he grabbed the tools he’d completely forgotten about until his meeting was half over, and got into the truck. Unlike her, he made sure not to leave a bloody mark on her precious little hybrid piece of crap.
Backing out of the spot, he shot her place one more dark glare as he drove past. He had work to do and, unfortunately, stopping to get his truck fixed wasn’t on that agenda. Cursing his luck with that particular female, he headed for the ranch. Maybe if he put in a few extra hours, he’d eventually have time to get it looked at, at the very least.
His phone rang, startling him. He was even more surprised when he heard her voice on the line. “Please, don’t hang up,” she spoke softly. “Look, like I said, I feel really bad about your truck. I did from the moment I hit it, and I honest to God didn’t mean to. However, if you don’t mind, I have a friend who works on classics like your truck, and he’s willing to come out to your ranch and see if he can fix it. I know you are a busy man, and that’s why I called Chip and asked him if maybe he would be able to do the repairs on the fly. Please?” It was clear she was trying damn hard to make amends.
Grinding his teeth, he let out a breath. “I told you to forget about it, Ms. Hunter, and I meant it. I’ll deal with it when I have time to. Thank you for the considerate offer, but I will have to decline. Now, if there was nothing else, I should probably hang up before the sheriff spots me and decides to throw me in jail for merely existing.” Yes, he did, in fact, have a hate-hate relationship with the sheriff. Course, when the guy had made your life a living hell all through school, and then you got the quarterback position over him because of his poor attitude, it was kind of expected. That and the fact he was an asshole, straight up, no question about it, asshole.
“God, he’s such an ass,” she said without thinking. “The sheriff has a serious hate on for me. Asshat thinks he’s a gift to women and is pissed off at me because I had to decline his oh-so-amazing offer.” He could hear the eye roll in her voice. She then sighed. “Fine. Whatever you say, Mr. Franklyn. Be well,” she murmured and hung up.
Shrugging, he tossed the phone onto the dashboard. Strange woman. But she was right about one thing—Bradley Fitzgerald definitely thought he was God’s gift to women. How he hadn’t been arrested for some of the shit he’d pulled with the so-called fairer gender, Grant would never truly know. He reached the town’s edge and, after checking his speed because he knew that asshole too, he cruised past the lurking speed trap at exactly the posted speed limit. Only when he was far enough away did he flip the deputy the bird. Anyone who worked for Bradley deserved nothing less.
Chapter Four
Leaning into the wind, Grant pushed his cowboy hat down farther on his head, trying to keep the damned thing from taking off. Squinting from the wind, he eyed the sky. Weatherman was predicting a snowstorm and, if the temperature was anything to go by, the man was right. It was fucking cold!
He had to get the horses in and bunked down; the cattle would be fine and given it was only February, nothing in the fields to cry over, just some weeds. He headed toward the last paddock where his stallion was kept, a moody beast and an animal that hated pretty much anyone that was human. Got along with every animal on the ranch, but hated the hands.
On a good day, Grant could ride him, and he’d play along. On a bad day, he’d have to duck a few kicks and hope to get the halter before the beast landed one.
Reaching the paddock, he watched Mercury give him a sneer and stamp his front hooves. Apparently it was going to be a bad day with the stallion. Grant adjusted his collar to keep the wind out, went over the rails, and headed for the horse. Mercury wasn’t the only one in a pissy mood. Nothing like freezing your nuts off while protecting the stock to put a man in a cranky mood.
“All right, Merc, this is how it’s going to be. I’m going to grab your halter, and you are going to come with me peacefully. Then I’m going to go into town and get some more supplies while you stay nice and warm in the barn. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”
The horse went up on his hind legs and kicked out the front ones before coming down to earth with enough force to wake the dead. Yup, the fucking horse was going to be an asshole today. Like that was really any surprise.
Narrowing his eyes, Grant began the dance to catch the mangy, cantankerous, and downright ornery animal. He was running out of daylight, and the storm clouds rolling in were cutting it even shorter. He did not want to be on the road when the squall hit. He planned to be back in the ranch house, sitting before the fire and enjoying a nice fifteen-year-old scotch while he caught up on some reading.
“Come here, you fucking pain in my ass!” he yelled, making another lunge while rolling away from the hooves trying to crack his skull like a walnut. “I’m fucking selling your mangy ass to the glue factory, no jokes, Merc. This time you’ve really pissed me off.”
Another attempt, this one earning him a glancing blow to his ribs. Okay, now he was pissed right the hell off. Holding his side, he watched the stallion who, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be laughing his ass off. A crack of sound caught the stallion’s attention, and Grant used it to his advantage, leaping in and grabbing the halter. Yanking Mercury’s head down, he glared into the stallion’s eyes. “You are the world’s biggest fucking douche bag. Come on, let’s get you somewhere warm,” he said, then proceeded to walk the suddenly placid and compliant animal to the barn.
****
Jackie had been weighing her options on what to do with Grant Franklyn. She felt horrible for hurting his damn truck, but more than that she kept thinking of freaking Dawn’s comment. Why have you never jumped that fine hunk of Grade A Texas beef? And that damn phrase was stuck in Jackie’s mind.
Damn that woman for bringing up that man to her. Especially since Jackie had been fighting an attraction to the damn man for the last twenty freaking years.
Clenching her hands tightly on the steering wheel, she forced her mind from that moment when she met the man for the first time. She couldn’t think about when she had tripped over her own stupid feet and fallen at his blasted toes. The asshole had picked her up, brushed her off, and then grumpily told her to watch her damn step next time, then went off with his friends laughing at the gangly girl with braces and glasses. Yep. Not good.
So, she was being an idiot, driving out to his freaking ranch in the middle of a storm to give him a check to cover the cost of repairs on his vehicle. Wonderful. She was such a damn idiot. She should just mail it to him, but she was a masochist and wanted to see the damn man again. Goodness, she was a fool. And an idiot.
She saw Grant’s truck outside the barn, so she pulled up next to it and got out. Jackie pulled the hood of her coat over her head and trudged into the barn. “Mr. Franklyn?” she called and felt like an idiot. They had known each other practically their whole freaking lives, and she called him Mr. Franklyn.
A man she didn’t know stuck his head out of the barn and raised his eyebrows at her. “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be out in this weather. Don’t you know we have a freak snowstorm inbound?” he asked as he dusted his hands off on his jeans.
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” she said through gritted teeth. “Where is Grant Franklyn? I need to talk to him, and then I promise you I will be off this land and on my way home, out of your hair.”
“Bart,” a voice came from the bowels of the barn. “Get on home now. Marcus just called from the cabin and he’s already being hit by the storm. You have maybe twenty minutes, so leave whatever you’re doing and go. You should make it with about two minutes to spare.”
“Uh, yes, boss,” Bart said, looking back and forth between her and the barn. “Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” Tipping his Stetson to her, he headed toward one of the two vehicles next to her truck. Obviously the last hand to leave. The rest probably bunked on the land.
Then she forgot all about him as Grant Franklyn appeared in the open door and came to a rocking halt, wiping his hands with a cloth
that he quickly stuffed into a back pocket. He eyed her from head to toe and back again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit on the worst possible day to be out and about, Ms. Hunter?”
“When I left the house, it wasn’t crappy. It was a nice winter day,” she said, defending herself. “I came to give you something.” She pulled an envelope out of her purse and pushed it toward him. “I know you don’t have a lot of time but after talking to my friend he said that this should cover it all,” she assured him. “So please, take it and I will get out of your hair?” Good Lord, he was imposing, and damn his grumpy ass, he was as beautiful as the day was long. Asshat.
He looked to the envelope and then back at her. He didn’t take it, instead crossing his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels. “I seem to recall, Ms. Hunter, that I told you to forget it. What exactly about that did you not understand?” he asked. Just then the first white flake drifted down between them, soon followed by a second.
“I guess the fact that I can’t forget it. You might not remember my momma and daddy before they left for Hawaii, but they taught me to always pay my debts, and this is one of them. I owe you, Mr. Franklyn, so please, just take it so I can go home and drink some lovely brandy that I’ve been saving for a cold day.”
Shaking his head, he turned and pulled the barn doors closed, dropping the crossbar into place to hold them shut. “Go home, Ms. Hunter, and take that envelope with you. You owe me nothing,” he told her, walking toward the house. “And I’d drive fast if I were you. That storm is moving in faster than predicted.”
“Why are you such an ass?” she asked and quickly followed after him. “Just take the blasted money, Mr. Franklyn. I don’t care what you do with it, but it will help me feel better about damaging your property. Just please, take it?” she asked and stepped up onto his porch with him. “Just take the damn check. Please.”
He rolled his eyes; she couldn’t believe that he actually rolled his eyes. “No, go home,” he said. Then he yanked open the screen door, which ended up about an inch from her nose, pushed open the inner door and went through, the screen door snapping shut on his heels.
She counted once again. To ten, back to zero and to ten again. She was ready to kill the man. She didn’t know why he affected her as he did, but he did. Shoving the check into her purse she called out, “Fine, don’t take it, asshat. I will make a donation in your name to the children’s hospital.” She walked through the falling snow to her vehicle. When the hell had it begun to snow?
Chapter Five
Grant watched through the open door as Jacqueline Hunter stormed her way back through the yard to her truck. He caught snippets of her words, all directed at him and his hard head and other not-so-kind things, as the wind pushed them toward the house.
He had to admit, when she wasn’t being a total pain in his ass, she was quite adorable. He remembered her from school. Really well actually, so well she’d likely be stunned and maybe a little horrified. He remembered breaking her fall and, if he hadn’t been with his so-called friends, he likely would have acted differently. But he’d been a teenage boy with rampantly running hormones and all that fun stuff, and he’d bowed to peer pressure in the moment.
But what she probably didn’t know was that he’d watched her growing up into the gorgeous woman she was now. Or rather, he’d seen the promise of what she’d one day become. Because after high school he’d gone to college for a few years before coming back to take over the family ranch. Between that and getting the ranch back in the black, he hadn’t really paid her or any other female a hell of a lot of attention.
He recalled the first time he’d seen her, really seen her, after their school days were long done. He’d been the one to trip over his own feet and nearly face-plant on the asphalt. She had turned, just at the perfect moment, the wind catching her hair and the sun hitting her perfectly. If he’d believed in such things, he would have said she was an angel fallen from heaven. Unfortunately, with the mouth on her, he doubted she’d ever reach that status.
But looking never hurt, as long as she never once caught him. Which she hadn’t yet, and he’d looked … a lot. She had the perfect heart-shaped ass that was accented perfectly by her jeans and the skirts she occasionally wore. Her chestnut colored hair was the perfect backdrop for her honey-kissed skin and her sinfully rich brown eyes. Eyes that had just the tiniest flecks of bronze to them. Eyes he rarely got close enough to see in such detail, but when he did they mesmerized him.
Frowning when she didn’t pull out of his yard, Grant pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. Holy hell, it was getting cold! Shivering, he moved to the edge of the porch and frowned. All he could hear was a slight click-click of her truck ignition. Oh God, that didn’t bode well at all.
****
Jackie hit the steering wheel with her fists as she felt tears pricking her eyes. “Please don’t do this to me,” she said, begging karma, the universe, whatever she could come up with. “Seriously, I can’t be stuck for goodness only knows for how long with him.” She would be far too tempted to do something, far too much and too many somethings with him actually. She bounced her forehead on the wheel in frustration.
A soft knock on the window had her jerking her head up. She looked over to find Grant peering in, frowning. She stared at him, and when she didn’t move, he pulled open the door, letting the cold air in. She thought in dismay that it was even colder now than it had been just a few minutes ago. “Sounds like your starter has crapped out on you, Ms. Hunter. You aren’t going anywhere until that’s attended to, which, given the current weather, won’t be until at least tomorrow. Now, you can come into the house and have a hot drink, or sit out here and freeze to death. Personally, I really don’t want to explain to Bradley why your frozen corpse is in my yard.” Not exactly the warmest of invitations.
Could her day get any worse? she thought to herself. Then she looked up. The snow was falling faster and faster. Crap. Of course. Why not? Living on the wrong side of the mountain range was once more reminding them all that while they might live in Texas, they still were subject to Mother Nature in all her fury.
Sighing she looked to Grant and nodded. “Okay, fine.” She should be more thankful, but dammit she wouldn’t be out if not for him. “Fine. Only because I know how much of an asshat he would be to you.” The idiot sheriff still thought he might have a chance in hell with her. Gag.
Grabbing her purse, she got out of her truck and walked around to Grant. “Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled by the jacket as she huddled for warmth. As she walked back to the house with him, she began to think, This might be good. I can leave the check there for him. Perfect. She smiled then. Yep, this might actually work. If only she would be able to keep her heart from causing her more trouble than it was worth, that was.
At the house, he opened the door and let her go through before him. Clearly some things were ingrained at a level even he couldn’t rid himself of. The house was warm, so nice and warm inside. “Jacket,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
Jackie dropped her purse, turned and took off her jacket, passing it back to him and then picking her purse back up off of the floor. “Thank you.” She heard herself saying quietly to him. Looking around the interior of his home, she was struck by how comfortable it felt, how inviting. “Do you know that this is the first time that I’ve ever been in here?” It was weird. They had known each other their whole lives, but this was the first time she had been in his home.
“Even if you had been, you wouldn’t have recognized it,” he said, hanging up her jacket. Then, shutting the door, he eased his feet from the boots he’d still been wearing. “Come on in, it’ll be warmer in the back of the house. Still having issues with the front since the remodel and reno, but I’ll figure it out eventually.” He moved right past her, turning so he just brushed her arm, and kept on going.
“Are you doing the renovations yourself?” she asked as she followed along, her fingers
lightly touching something here and there. She was confused by this man, and she didn’t like being confused. She also felt something else for this man, and that was a concern. A huge concern for her. She trailed along at his heels until she got to a photo. An image of him, a couple of his friends and her. She remembered that day, but for him to have it on his wall? “Gran...” She stopped herself and after swallowing hard, continued, “Mr. Franklyn. Why did you put this up?” she asked very, very softly.
Turning, he frowned in her direction even as he walked closer. Leaning in he looked at the photo and then gave a shrug. “I like it,” he said, moving toward the refrigerator once more. “Do you want some hot chocolate or something with more kick?” he asked over his shoulder. “I can also offer up some chili in about twenty minutes or so, depending on when it’s actually done cooking.”
“Thank you. That would be nice.” He was quite the surprise. She was reeling from his casual statement of, I like it. Now she found herself trying to figure out this man that she had been so sure she knew everything about already. Obviously, she had been wrong. “Hot chocolate would be lovely, perhaps if you have some liquor to put in it as well?” Okay, so she typically didn’t drink, but she found herself tossing just about every reservation she had out the window and simply grasped on to the first things she caught.
“You have a choice then. I have some rum or even a bit of brandy left over from Christmas.” He pulled the bottles down from a shelf and set them on the counter. Collecting a pot he rinsed it a couple of times under the tap and then poured in a healthy amount of milk. “If you are hungry, there should be some cookies left in the dish on the counter there.” He pointed blindly to his left as he dug through a drawer.
“Brandy would be good,” she told him softly. “I don’t like cookies, but thank you.” She really shouldn’t do the cocoa, but she couldn’t seem to turn it down. Chocolate was one of her weak points; she loved it, but it hated her.