by Stuart, Amie
***
Zack had been distracted by thoughts of Hope all day, wondering, and yeah, worrying, about what the pretty little accountant with the big silvery-blue eyes would think of him once she saw his photo. And how she'd gotten such a crooked nose. If she still rode horses and whose birthday party she'd been at. He wasn't Tim or Rowdy, this wasn't second nature to him. He sighed as the pencil in his fingers went slack.
At this rate he'd never finish his Longhorn Cavern series.
A nudge and a small giggle from beside him reminded Zack that he had other duties to tend to before he could check his email again—an urge he'd fought against all day long.
He set his sketch pad on the floor and elbowed his son back. Travis elbowed him again with a giggle that turned into a full-blown belly laugh at Zack's low growl as he pulled his son onto his lap and tickled him till he was breathless. "Do you know what time it is, young man?"
"Bed?" Travis replied, his lips curving downward in disappointment.
"Nope! Bath first, then bed and a story." Zack stood, Travis in his arms, and carried the small boy down the hall.
"Three?" Travis begged as they stepped into the bathroom.
"Two," Zack countered. He was being played. But this was their nightly ritual—negotiations for stories.
"Deal."
Chapter Three
Jessa
"Jace, go see a movie or something." My first couple of weeks at home had been spent getting to know the orthopedist and therapist the doctors in Vegas had arranged.
Deek was my favorite. I'm sure in some former life he'd been a weight lifter—or maybe Napoleon. Now he just lived to torture us poor souls who were dumb enough to abuse our bodies to the point we needed therapy.
It was all I could do to eat, sleep and get to therapy, even with Jace's help. My dual injury made my exercises frustratingly difficult. Even simple isometrics left me near tears at first. I never would have thought squeezing your muscles could be so difficult, but I'd be damned if I wouldn't regain full use of my arm and walk without a limp.
"I can't leave you here alone." He frowned, a half-eaten piece of pizza in his hand.
Poor Jace got the less than glamorous job of carting me around, icing me down and listening to me whine and grumble after my torture sessions with Deek, but it had taken him less than a week to drive me nuts. And a month later he wouldn't even let me eat dinner at the table. That's why I was choking down half-warmed pizza in bed with two pillows tucked under my knee instead of hobbling around in my kitchen cooking real food.
"I insist." I grabbed the remote from its hiding place in the down comforter and muted the television "My treat," I added with a smile.
"What if something happens to you?" he asked with a frown of concern. "You fall or—"
"Jace! If I swear to take my pain pills and go to sleep right after dinner, will you go?! Aw, Jace, I'm sorry," I added softly at the hurt expression on his face. "You don't know how much I appreciate—"
"I don't want your thanks for doing my job." He set his empty plate on the nightstand with a clank and propped his elbows on his knees, a frown on his tanned face. He looked so much like Dad with his reddish-brown hair and pale blue-gray eyes.
"Jace, I love you, but little brother, you're smothering me. You need a break from taking care of me, and honestly, I need a break from—" I waved my hands, "—feeling helpless."
After an agonizing minute of silence, he finally, reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Would you get me my laptop before you go, brat?"
Half and hour later, Jace left for the movies, and for the first time in over four weeks, I was completely alone. I could literally feel myself decompressing.
Speaking of alone, there was still no word from Dad and the silence from Montana spoke volumes. But what could I do? I'd never win an All Around Champion buckle now, I'd never compete again, and I wasn't welcome in Horseshoe Bend, Montana.
At least, not at the ranch.
I flipped to CMT and the sound of Gary Allan kept me company as I settled my laptop on my bed tray and booted it up. Emails filled my inbox and I slowly waded through it, reveling in the peace that being alone brought while I typed a quick update for Kane, who was on the road somewhere. He'd promised to head back my way next month and relieve Jace. Hopefully, by then, I'd be well enough that we could head south instead. I wouldn't mind a few days at the beach. Maybe I could talk him into it.
Then my finger jumped as I clicked on a reply from the man in Texas. My heart pounding, I skimmed the note, then read again, slower this time.
Dear Hope,
Thanks for the pic. Looks like ya'll were having a good time! Where'd you get those big blue eyes from? You're beautiful, and I'd love to paint you sometime. I have to get, but here's one of my son and me taken at Christmas a couple weeks back...Zack
I sighed and read it again. He thought I was beautiful and he wanted to paint me. I'd been called a lot of things in my day, but never beautiful. I scolded myself for getting mushy even as the mouse scrolled down.
Father and son were dressed in holiday colors—a green turtleneck for Zack and red for Travis. Zack had a nicely trimmed goatee and his shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail. I leaned closer. He had quite a tan for a redhead, and his eyes—a deeper green than his son's—looked gentle. Sweet even. He had an earring, not a stud but a tiny hoop. I smiled to myself, thinking it suited him, though he wasn't at all what I'd imagined.
Even with the little one squatted between his legs, I could see Zack was thick-chested. Broad and stocky like a bull rider, his thick biceps were well defined under the snug turtleneck. I had a secret weakness for bull riders that dated back to my first high school crush. I'd been too bashful to act on it, and even though we were on the high school rodeo team together, Bobby Joe Farrell had never looked twice at me. He liked cheerleaders...had even married one.
Zack's son was adorable, solemn looking with dark hair and huge pale green eyes surrounded by thick lashes. He didn't favor his daddy much, and I wondered what had happened to his mother. Zack hadn't really said. Maybe they were divorced. I studied that picture a long time, wondering who'd taken it, who'd been there and what the wrapped gift in his hand had been.
I scolded myself for being sappy, then scolded myself for being so cynical and skeptical and considered how a normal woman might answer, might react. I wasn't a normal woman. Or rather, average. I wasn't average. Not after spending so many years in a man's world. But I forced myself to try and type my response as if I were.
Dear Zack,
You're very sweet. No one's ever wanted to paint me before. I worried that maybe my crooked nose would scare you off :) . Thanks so much for the picture. It's funny how descriptions and photos don't always match.
Both major understatements! I was dying to know more about father and son. By the time I finished my response and shut off the light, I'd been well and truly smitten.
***
"You know Trey didn't mean anything by his question, don't you?" Jace asked softly as he helped me get settled in bed a few weeks later.
Our visit with the twins had gone great, even if I couldn't play like usual. They'd loved their presents and my pot roast had been perfect, but it was dessert that had fallen flat. Not the cake, but Trey's questions about my future during dessert.
"I know."
Trey was one of my oldest friends and not one to be cruel, but he could be a bit obtuse at times. I was tired, despite my nap, and Trey's probing questions had hurt.
I was in denial and kinda likin' it.
"So...have you given it any thought? Maybe about selling this place and going home, to the ranch? Or even buying something near Dad." Jace sat beside me on the bed, carefully avoiding my eyes.
"Going home is not an option, Jace. You know that as well as I do." My stepmother would take great pleasure in making the experience as intolerable as possible. I wasn't a masochist. It was much easier to stay away, to keep the peace,
than deal with her.
"So what are you gonna do?" Jace was a natural-born worrier. "What's the plan?"
"To get some sleep." I nudged him with my good leg. "Now go away. Please."
He did, shutting out the light and closing the door behind him, but the damage was done. Tears filled my eyes and streamed down my cheeks into my hair as I stared up at the ceiling. I groped the nightstand for the box of tissues, yanked one out and wiped away the tears that only made me angrier.
Despite my fatigue, my brain was on full alert and I lay staring at the ceiling, cursing my mind that refused to settle and Trey for his big mouth.
What to do with the rest of my life was a question I'd ignored for weeks, but like the elephant in the room, it wasn't going anywhere. I'd ignored it because I didn't know what to do. I'd assumed I'd have another five years—at least. Money wasn't a problem, thanks to Kane who'd taken me in hand early on and taught me to invest well, but it wouldn't last forever and idleness wasn't in my nature.
I'd always thought I had plenty of time. The plan was to rodeo till I was thirty, then find some land and maybe a nice cowboy to settle down with. What was that saying about God and plans?South Texas wasn't that far from the Gulf. Maybe something would happen with the guy from Texas. I sighed and ran a finger over my bumpy nose. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I scolded myself. I wasn't so naive as to pin my hopes on a man and squashed it as small as possible. Small hopes equaled small disappointments and vice versa.
But that didn't stop me from flicking on the bedside lamp and reaching for my laptop on the floor beside my bed. A part of me needed the small comfort of kind words and hoped Zack had written back.
Dear Hope,
I don't travel much... I hate leaving Travis behind, but I've been to Santa Fe and would love to go back. There's a great artist community there. My junior year in college, I visited Espanola for an artist's retreat and then went back for another at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu where Georgia O'Keeffe lived. It's pretty inspiring.
And you're right, descriptions and photos can be totally different things. I hope it's not a big disappointment. I take after my mom's side of the family while my brothers are tall and lean.
Oh Lord, he thinks I think he's fat!
...Out of over fifty responses you're the only one that panned out. I can't help but wonder why someone as pretty and intelligent as you isn't married. Surely Vernal's not that small...
I groaned and fought back another wave of tears—this time from frustration. How to answer that? I haven't had time? The truth—I'd been too busy drinking them under tables and whoopin' ass in the rodeo arena? That most of the men I knew didn't wanna date women with bigger—or more—gold buckles than them?
No, because now I was Little Miss Accountant. Who'da thought being "a girl" could be so difficult.
Dear Zack,
I hope you didn't misunderstand me. I think you're very handsome. I also happen to like stocky men, and at 5'1 don't see much sense in dating a giant
As to why I'm an unmarried virgin at 26. You're right, it is personal, but I suppose you deserve some sort of answer. Even if I'm not sure what that answer is.
I sat and watched the blinking cursor, struggling to find a way to tell the truth as I saw it without lying my ass off.
Daddy had warned me early on that men only wanted one thing, and he'd been right. I'd dated some, fooled around with a couple, and frankly, was never sure if it was me they wanted or "Jessalyn Stratton: Saddlebronc Champ". I always got the feeling I would have made quite a notch on someone's belt, and God forbid any of those sons of bitches found out I was a virgin, on top of everything else.
You know what small towns and ranch life are like. I've got a father and two brothers and Daddy was tough. But it's a tough life and a man's world on and off the ranch. I don't mean to sound cynical but if a woman wants to be taken seriously, she has to keep her nose clean, work harder and be better just to be considered as good as a man. I guess I was just too busy working hard so I never dated much. I'm also stubborn and I think some men aren't sure what to do with a woman who knows her own mind.
If you still think you might want to paint me someday soon, write back...Hope
P. S. Turn about's fair play. I know you didn't ask for a virgin, but why did you mention it?
To my surprise I got a reply twenty minutes later:
As the youngest of four boys, I understand completely about family. They can definitely be a blessing and curse. I do okay, but without them, I couldn't paint. Still I wonder what it would be like if Trav and I moved off somewhere. Just the two of us. Mom's grumpy. Dad likes to fix things (things=our problems). With five houses on the ranch, privacy is a rare commodity and everyone is constantly in and out of everyone's home…and business, and I just want to paint and be with my son.
After some of the replies I got, I almost wish I hadn't mentioned the "V" word :). But living in a small town, I've seen more than one girl—woman, sleep her way from man to man and marriage to marriage, looking for someone to take care of them rather than try and stand on their own two feet. I know it's not a small town thing because I went to college with girls looking for an MRS Degree. I guess It's just more obvious here.
I want a woman who thinks more of herself—I learned that from Travis's mother. A woman who knows her worth isn't dependan on what's between her legs. Sorry to sound so blunt and rude and yeah, crass even, but I don't know any other way to say it. I do know not all women are like that. Unfortunately all the independent women I know are too old or married or related to me :D
I want a woman who can take care of herself if she has to, not one who relies on her body—sex—men—to get her what she wants or needs.
Come spring there's a great field of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes nearby. You could wear something white and we could take a picnic. It looks something like this.
I read the email at least a dozen times before clicking on the link he'd included. It led to a painting featured by a Houston art gallery. A huge longhorn with dappled hindquarters stood in a field of bluebonnets. I got so tickled it was a wonder Jace didn't come to check on me. If he had, he would have found me giggling with tears running down my face.
Chapter Four
Zack
There wasn't much uglier scenery than South Texas in late winter. And January's cold rains gave way to sharp February winds that left Zack gasping for air and pulling on extra thermals and socks, but today he got to stay in and paint. By the time the sun finally appeared on the horizon, he was ready for a break. He'd been in his studio since four that morning, working on sketches of Hope from the photo she'd sent. He stood and stretched, aware of the cold seeping through the floor.
He stopped outside his studio door and turned up the heat, then poked his head in Travis's room. He lay stretched out on his back, dead to the world. With a smile, Zack quietly pulled the door to and headed down the hall, pausing at his desk long enough to turn the computer on. While it booted up, he put on a fresh pot of coffee.
His agent, Kate Bradshaw, lived in Dallas, so the computer was a necessity. She needed a way to keep in touch with him since, according to her, he lived in the boonies. Of course, she considered anything not smack-dab in the middle of urban sprawl the boonies.
Zack settled in at his desk and scanned his email. Two were from Kate asking about preparations for his June show in Houston and how work was progressing. All the usual things an agent worried about when money was involved...and one from Hope.
I've been thinking a lot about respect and sex. Get your mind out of the gutter :) . I mean that by saying you want a virgin, you want a woman who respects herself. Am I right?
She was! Zack smiled to himself and kept on reading.
I've dated some, but never found anyone I wanted to spend all my time with. Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I too cynical or too picky? I see other women getting married and having babies but I can't seem to figure it all out. I can't
seem to buy into it, but that doesn't mean I don't want it. How do you know you've found the right person to spend your life with? What if you marry someone then find your soul mate, then what?
And do we really even have soul mates?
Sorry to be on such a downer today. I just feel like you'll understand whatever I tell you, no matter how off-the-wall it is, but I feel weird, knowing you're out there somewhere and that you seem to understand me so well when I don't even know you. For real that is. Sometimes I wish I did
I wonder what would it be like to talk to you face to face, go for a walk with you, to touch you, or if everything would just be too weird. I mean, what if it's not the same? Would we go forward or backward?
Sometimes I think I'm just being weird :) .
He liked her frankness. Zack smiled and scanned the rest of the email. She'd spent the day with her godchildren. And, from reading about how Lizzie used her to practice her nursing skills on, she wasn't above gettin' down and playing with them. But being around a happily married couple had left her with questions, a lot of them. More than once he and Hope had talked about relationships. What worked, what didn't, what was realistic. They'd danced around each other, feeling each other out, getting the lay of the land in terms of hopes and dreams, wants and desires. He really liked her frankness.