Only fifteen minutes later, she followed the voices coming from the living room and went down the stairs, her black Alexander McQueen peep-toe booties thumping out each step. Jack and the man he talked to, the same one she’d met yesterday during the bull incident, both stopped talking and stared at her in a lingering silence.
She smoothed her hands over the black tank top and shorts, happy she’d kept her most practical clothes from her lavish LA wardrobe. “I’m ready,” she said when she reached the floor level.
Earl greeted her with a curious smile. “Ma’am, are you sure you’re going to—”
Jack waved his employee off. “She’ll be fine, Earl. Let’s go.”
“Have you worked for Jack long?” she asked Earl as he gestured for her to go outside.
“Too long.” Earl chortled. “But, ma’am, I can’t complain.”
Three big, muscular brown horses with shiny manes awaited them outside. Oh shit. Long reins tied them to the porch. Invisible droplets of fear trickled inside her, with each drop turning bigger and thicker. She struggled to push past the lump in her dry throat. “What’s going on?”
“We thought horseback riding would help to give you the authentic country feel you want to offer your guests.” Jack helped Earl untie the animals and mounted one of them. “Plus, there are some areas harder to get to with big trucks.”
The one time she had gone horseback riding with him, she’d ended up on his horse—which led to their first kiss and her sanity vanished like water in a drought. Back then, she’d been scared and giggly. Now? Not so much. “How nice of you to be so … accommodating,” Lola injected energy in her voice and shot him the fakest grin she could produce.
“This is going to be easier than I imagined.” Jack’s gaze searched and held hers. A hint of a mocking smile formed, but died before it could take shape. Just like our marriage.
She raised an eyebrow, accepting the challenge. “You have no idea.”
Earl grabbed the reins and showed Lola her horse. She threaded her trembling fingers through the animal’s sleek mane, hoping to extract some courage from it.
“Please, honey, don’t let me fall,” she whispered and half-hoped the animal would nod at her or give her any sign she’d help her. Backing down wasn’t an option. Jack had already seen her botch the eggs, and if he was being a jerk and making her ride horseback when he knew she dreaded it, well … she owed it to herself to try and internally exercise the emotional strength she’d been faking.
“It’s been a while. Could you please help me get on?” she asked Earl, her voice above a whisper so Jack wouldn’t hear her.
“Don’t worry ma’am,” Earl responded, with an earnest smile. “I’m here to help. Here, mount from the left. It’s easier. I’ll hold the straps for you.”
She slid one bootie inside the stirrup, tried to balance her weight, and swept the other leg over. Earl handed her the reins. Both her palms were already slicked with cold sweat. Right now, fear fell out of reach, like her extinct American Express. If Jack thought he’d humiliate her in front of the foreman, well, she had news for him.
Jack tilted his head to the side. “Can you do this?”
She gaped at the wide-open spaces before them, a blend of green trees and bushes, and brown hay. The cows grazed without a care in the world. The sky, cloudless—the sign she needed. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I can do this.”
Jack glanced at her profile. An hour in, and Lola wasn’t cracking. Not yet.
She shifted every so often on the saddle. The redness on her shoulders and arms stretched down her legs, sweat glistened on her bare skin. He’d suppressed a laugh when she’d appeared on the top of the stairs, dressed like the cover of Rolling Stones magazine.
He clasped his fingers on the reins. Lola had to know what she was getting into. He hadn’t gotten to where he was by letting others control his business. And he wouldn’t let her ruin the place where he’d grown up. The place brought memories of his beloved father, and Jack’s promise to his father—and to himself—to become a successful Canyon.
The first horse he’d ridden had been on this very ranch. His father had sighed his last breath in the cottage they’d occupied. Now he had enough money to live anywhere he chose, but this ranch—these mountains and the wild countryside—would always be home to him.
And it had never been home to Lola. Not really. If he showed her how hard it was to maintain the property, she’d run for the hills and he’d get the divorce and buy her share. He’d merge the two surrounding properties. Easy.
“And last, we’ll show you the stables,” Earl said. His cell phone buzzed, and he scooped it from his pocket and read the screen. “Boss, do you mind going ahead? The new hand arrived early.”
“No.” Jack nodded. How many times had he asked him not to call him boss? The old man was as stubborn as he was ranch savvy. After Earl left, he and Lola rode side by side. Besides the occasional snorting from the horses and the sturdy trotting on the ground, silence expanded between them.
He tried to keep facing forward, but temptation snapped at him like a whip. He caught himself wavering, turning his head for some side-eyeing. Her hands still clasped the reins, and her white knuckles didn’t match the semi-confidence displayed on her face. The whole time she’d avoided looking his way and only did so when either he talked to her directly or Earl pointed out something in his direction. “Where’s your mother?”
She squared her shoulders. “Margo’s cruising through the Caribbean.”
Why wasn’t he surprised? If Lola ran from her obligations, her mother had been to blame—at least for some of it. Margo St. James worried too much about herself and her needs to consider anyone else’s. And Lola had followed suit. “Alone?” he asked for the sake of asking.
“With some guy named Roy.” Her voice faltered, and he couldn’t miss a trace of sadness. His heart squeezed, and that made him feel more guilty than letting her burn her soft skin under the unforgiving sun. “I’m guessing this is it.”
He blinked and recognized the open front door to the stables. Thoroughbreds occupied every other oversize pen. “Sure is,” he said, then got off his horse, patted the animal, and walked over to Lola. After quick consideration, he outstretched his hand to help her down, and a zing of electricity shot through his fingers and continued up his arm. She jerked hers away from his touch, then with a quick motion she folded her arms together.
“Jack.” He recognized Mel’s soft voice, and a sour liquid spread in his stomach. Shit. “I thought you were at your office in Houston for the week.”
He turned to face Mel, and she walked toward them. True. He was supposed to be in Houston nailing down business deals, running his properties, meeting people. But not anymore—not with Lola threatening to turn the ranch into a real-life version of Barbie’s damn country pink hotel.
“Turns out I could settle things over emails.” He cleared his throat and gave her a closed-lip smile.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lola.” Lola stepped toward Mel. Within a couple of seconds, they shook hands. Lola’s impractical clothes and raised chin contrasted against Mel’s no-nonsense jeans, shirt, and long blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail.
“I’m Mel, the on-call vet.” Mel’s smile didn’t reach her green eyes. “Did I hear you’re Lola? Jack’s ex?”
Wishful thinking. Jack stretched to his full height. He’d trusted Mel and shared with her more about Lola than he had shared with anyone. Because they had gotten married in California and lived there, their short marriage had been largely downplayed in Hope Springs—which he now appreciated. “Lola’s here to get some things sorted. I’m just showing her around.” He drummed his finger on his belt. Apprehension lurked like a ghost.
In silence, Mel’s gaze left his and landed on Lola. He knew Mel didn’t often show contempt or surprise, but her semi-parted lips and arched eyebrows hinted she drew her own conclusions.
“Yes, we’re definitely getting things … sorted. Are
n’t we, honey?” Lola said with a voice softer than sheep’s skin. With a twinkle in her eyes, she glided her hand over his arm, brushing her fingers and magnetizing his flesh, leaving all of his hair standing on end.
Damn the woman. He sucked air through his teeth, and yanked his arm away. When he raised his eyes to Mel, the weight of a truck sat on his chest. They were just friends, well, they had settled for friends after a few botched dates… but the pain flickering in her eyes told him she’d hoped for something more. He had, too—but he hadn’t been ready, and that wasn’t fair.
“Well, by all means, show her around. Nice meeting you, too, Lola,” Mel said before moving in the opposite direction, her boots crunching on the ground.
“What the hell are you playing at?” He gripped Lola’s arm, tightening his fingers on her soft, mocha skin. Skin he’d kissed and drooled over in the past, but should cause repulsion now. It fucking should. He would give anything not to feel his jaw clenching, his blood pumping, and his cock stirring. He hated himself for wanting her.
She glared at his hand clasped on her arm and then raised her eyes to him, challenging him. But he didn’t move. The depths of her gleaming chocolate eyes triggered him into strengthening his resolve not to let her go. She took a deep breath, and when she opened her mouth, a couple of low gasps followed. This time there would be no running. She wasn’t even making an effort to move away from him. The intensity filtered across her face, making a shot of adrenaline zap all the way down to his stomach, where it exploded into currents of unwelcomed, unwanted heat. Heat that branded like a horseshoe.
He narrowed his eyes, and with a slight shake of his head, loosened his grip on her until he perched his fingers on his belt. “Answer me.”
“You thought it was a good idea to make me ride a horse, didn’t you?” The sharpness in her voice sliced the air and matched the vein pulsing in her neck. “You expected me to get scared and realize I can’t face the big bad country world and hurry on back to LA.”
He rubbed his palm on his forehead. What was there to deny when for once she was right? He didn’t believe in her. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t even … like her anymore.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Jack. You can try to shove me aside and make me uncomfortable all you want, but I’m not fucking going anywhere.”
He snorted. Who was she trying to fool? Loving and leaving ran in her DNA. “You only know how to start things up, but you never finish them. Ever.”
She took a couple of steps forward, her big dark eyes trailing down his face. She curved her lips into a menacing grin. “This time, lover boy, you’ll be around to see me finish.”
Lover boy. The irony in her voice dripped into his ears without his consent. His cock twitched. He took a step back, his lungs restricting as if he’d just finished a session of intense physical labor.
“I have to go,” he grunted, and paced out of the barn. “Do you know your way back?” he halted, and asked over his shoulder.
“I’ll find my way back,” she said with a confidence that almost convinced him.
He fixed his hat, and without as much as a word, strode to the back parking lot. With the nonsense of having Lola back, he forgot about calling Mel and explaining the situation. Now, he didn’t have a choice, and he blamed himself.
He saw Mel fumbling for her keys in front of her pickup truck. He shortened the distance between them with decisive strides. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this—as if things hadn’t been awkward enough between them before.
He cleared his throat. “Mel.”
She raised her gaze to him, her green eyes darkening. Even though she had the face of an angel, a blend of pain and frustration hardened her expression. “I thought we were friends, Jack. You don’t have to lie and hide things from me.”
He took off his hat and held it with both hands. “I’m not. Lola arrived yesterday without even a phone call to prepare me.”
“Didn’t you talk it over with her when you went to visit her father’s grave?”
He shook his head. “I paid him a very quick visit.” Short and secretive. Though his heart twisted for not being there for the funeral or memorial, he hoped wherever Milton was, the old man understood him not showing up. He knew a coffin and a sad nostalgic ambience wouldn’t be enough to keep him from harboring dirty thoughts about his estranged wife. And shit, Milton deserved better—the reason why he’d visited the grave the next day, and the day after, in a trip to California he hadn’t told Lola about.
The clinking sound from Mel’s little metal charms on her keyring brought him back to reality. “It doesn’t look like she’s around for a quick visit now. She doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, does she?” she asked.
Not yet. Hopefully besides her strong front, the horseback riding had served to show Lola what she was getting into. Jack hadn’t gotten deep pockets without hard work. And there was no way she would get to where she thought she wanted to without some serious grinding. “Lola thinks she wants to open a bed and breakfast. Just a matter of time before she changes her mind,” he said, injecting the enthusiasm he certainly didn’t feel. Sure, she wouldn’t last long in Texas, but seeing Lola everyday and keeping his hands off her wouldn’t be a piece of cake.
“How about you, Jack? Will you ever change your mind?” She squared her shoulders and fidgeted with the set of keys. “About the two of us?”
Jack sucked in a breath. When he’d asked Mel on a date, he’d been straight about his marital status. He’d tried to tell himself he was a free man, only married on paper. But, as he’d closed his eyes to kiss the wonderful woman in front of him, a huge weight had crashed on his shoulders, stopping him.
“Mel, I’ve never lied to you and I won’t start now. I don’t have feelings for my wife any more, but I would never string you along,” he said. “You’re a damn good vet and an even better friend. The man who gives you what you deserve will be lucky.”
“I… see. Thanks for your honesty.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment as if assimilating his words.
He put on his hat and tipped it, waiting for her acquiescence. She turned from him and got in the car, mumbling a superficial, “See you later.”
She drove away, a circle of dust shaking the dry leaves as the pickup disappeared. His chest tightened. Hurting Mel had never been his intention, but if Lola hadn’t shown up—if she hadn’t acted so sassy, maybe he wouldn’t feel like the biggest jerk. How could there still be anything between them, when the only thing he experienced was resentment?
His pulse raced. Well, okay, not the only thing. His body responded to hers in a way that astonished him. As long as he kept his reaction under wraps, he was good. All I need is showing her there’s no room for her in Red Oak, or in my life.
Chapter 3
The cell phone buzzed inside Lola’s pink Birkin bag and she fumbled to retrieve it. After crossing through the doorway, she headed to the empty U-Haul truck to return it to the office on Main Street. And hopefully not get lost. At least Earl had offered to give her a ride back from the office, saying he had to run some errands in town later anyway.
She added buying a secondhand car to her to-do list. An adult sized plastic wagon would make more sense with her budget. She needed to save every remaining penny to inject in opening the B&B. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Who knew paying for a hefty cab ride would ever be on the top of her list of small luxuries she couldn’t afford?
The blinding sun hit her, and she squinted to read the caller ID, without luck. She settled for answering it, holding the phone with one hand and sliding the other inside her bag to get the key. “Lola here.”
“Ms. St. James?” chimed the dull voice on the other side of the line.
She tossed her bag on the passenger side and climbed in the truck, smothering a groan. Her backside still ached from the godawful horseback ride earlier, and the skin on her sunburned legs was stiff. “Yes.”
“This is Kendra, from the Texas Adoptio
n Services. I’m returning your call.”
Lola’s heart skipped a beat. She’d made that call from the road two days ago. Was it fair to Daddy and Margo she wanted to look for her biological parents? The identity of her birth parents had always been a mystery, a curiosity. She’d grown up making up stories, wondering what could have happened to them—out of simple interest and without a dire need to meet them.
Perhaps her relationship with Jack had ignited more questions in that department. After she lost her baby, she’d been overwhelmed, and Jack had told her they could try again. She hadn’t wanted to—not when taking care of someone else seemed like a responsibility she’d never master. Deep down, there had to be something wrong with her not being able to… commit to things that matter. To people who mattered.
“I’m sorry, your case was a closed adoption which means the biological parents don’t wish to be contacted,” the woman continued, her clipped voice void of any emotion.
Lola glanced at the house, then to the graveled path leading to the paved road. “I understand, but what if they changed their minds? It’s been twenty-six years.”
The woman’s sigh came through the line.
“Is there a way you can get in touch with them, and give them my information in case they changed their mind?” Lola asked.
“No. A lot of people contract personal investigators who specialize in reuniting families. Maybe you can try those?”
“Sure, the long route sounds like a fantastic idea, Kendra.” Frustrated, she muttered a good bye and shut her cell phone off, and then slid it in her bag. She slammed the truck door shut, harder than she’d intended, and a quick tremor followed.
Oh, the irony. When she’d had money she hadn’t wanted, it hadn’t mattered, but now… as she sought strength to open a business and see it through, emotional needs also hit her. A growing melancholy swept over her, and her temples throbbed. Between the estimated amount she’d have to pay handymen for the minor remodeling of the house to become a bed and breakfast, paying for gas, and buying supplies, there was no way in hell she could afford to pay a private investigator. Not anytime soon, anyway.
The Cowboy’s Socialite Page 3