How to Catch a Cowboy (Riverrun Ranch Book 3)

by Karen Foley

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s fine. Never apologize for honesty.” Holt touched the brim of his hat. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

  He turned to enter the laundromat and Jessie briefly closed her eyes. He’d called her ma’am, a surefire sign she’d offended him, or at least made him uncomfortable to the point where he’d gone politely formal on her.

  You look good to me.

  Jessie mentally cringed. What had she been thinking? Of all the stupid things to say. Worse, she’d embarrassed Holt too. A sudden thought occurred to her and she quickly stepped in front of Holt, preventing him from entering the small shop. “About the laundry . . .”

  She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected a hint of humor in the curve of his lips. “What about it?”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t care, but you won’t tell Gus, will you?”

  “Tell him what?”

  She silently indicated the basket in her arms.

  “It will be our secret,” he replied.

  Another secret.

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “So, we’re good?”

  “I don’t know,” Jessie replied. “Are we?”

  He tipped his head. “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

  “Well,” she began cautiously, knowing she was treading on dangerous—personal—ground, “it seems as if you might be avoiding me. I can’t help but notice that whenever I prepare a meal, you don’t come to the table with the others, but wait until after I’ve left the kitchen.”

  To her astonishment, two spots of ruddy color appeared high on his cheekbones. “I hadn’t realized,” he muttered. “It’s purely coincidental.”

  “So you’re not avoiding me?”

  “Not at all.”

  For a man who seemed to value honesty, Jessie suspected he wasn’t telling the truth. He had been avoiding her. The question was why?

  “Okay, I’m glad to hear it.” Jessie hesitated. “Since you’re not avoiding me, do you—would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?”

  She sensed both his surprise and his indecision.

  “It’s just coffee, Holt, not a lifetime commitment,” she said wryly. “But, you’re probably busy. It’s just that I’d like to talk to you about something, if you have time.”

  He hesitated, and then nodded. “Sure. Let me drop this laundry off first.”

  Jessie indicated her own basket. “I’ll just put this in the back of my Jeep.”

  She was parked nearby and, by the time she stowed the laundry basket and returned to the sidewalk, Holt was waiting for her, leaning indolently against one of the wooden posts that supported the covered walkway. He smiled at her as she approached and, for just an instant, Jessie allowed herself to imagine that he was hers, happy to see her.

  “Where would you like to go? We could get coffee at Java Time, or coffee and something sweet at Kolaches.”

  She could tell by the hopeful note in his voice that he had a preference.

  “Oh, I would love a piece of streusel cake,” Jessie replied.

  “Kolaches, it is.”

  The German bakery and breakfast restaurant and one of the more popular eateries in Last Stand. As they walked through the doors, Jessie saw this afternoon was no different. Most of the tables were occupied, but Holt located a booth for them near the large front windows, with a view over Main Street and the covered sidewalk. Jessie recognized many of the people inside the restaurant and was aware of the curious eyes that followed them. Most of the town was familiar with the Claiborne family dynamics and Jessie had once heard Holt described as one of Last Stand’s most eligible—but unavailable—bachelors. Seeing them together like this would definitely cause some gossip. But if Holt was aware of the attention they drew, he gave no indication.

  After removing his hat, he smoothed his hair with a quick slide of his fingers and then eased himself into the booth. Jessie slid in across from him, admiring his hands as he picked up the menu and perused it. They were the strong, capable hands of a man accustomed to hard work, but he kept them neat and clean. She remembered again how gentle those hands had been as he’d dressed her injured foot. He’d rolled his sleeves up over his forearms and beneath the light dusting of hair, his muscles flexed as he turned the pages of the menu.

  “What looks good to you?”

  “I think I’m also going to go with the streusel cake.” He set the menu aside and leaned back. “It’s always been my favorite.”

  “Mine too.”

  “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  Jessie was prevented from replying when the waitress appeared.

  “Two coffees and two streusel cakes, please,” Holt said.

  “We only have one serving of the streusel cake left,” the waitress said. “It always sells out quick. Is there something else I can bring you instead?”

  “I can order something else,” Jessie said quickly, reaching for the menu.

  “No, you have the streusel cake,” Holt said, and reached for the menu at the same time. Their hands brushed briefly and Holt pulled back as if he’d been burned.

  “We could share,” Jessie offered, pushing her own hand down onto her lap. “I’m actually not that hungry.”

  “Are you sure?” When she nodded, he looked at the waitress. “One streusel cake, two forks.”

  After the waitress left, there was an awkward silence. Being around Holt always made her nervous and now she fought the urge to fidget beneath his steady regard. “Anyway,” she said, gathering her courage, “I wanted to talk to you about my abuela.”

  “Is she okay? I visited her yesterday and she said she was going home today.”

  “Yes, she was actually released about an hour ago. She’s staying with my parents until she decides what she wants to do next.”

  “But she’s feeling good?”

  “She seems a little tired, but otherwise she’s doing great.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Leaning forward, Jessie lowered her voice so that only Holt could hear her. “Holt, do you think my grandmother and your father were . . . romantically involved?”

  Holt’s eyes widened slightly. “What makes you ask?”

  Briefly, she described the scene she had witnessed at the hospital. “They seemed very much like a couple in love, but something must have happened because Gus didn’t return to the hospital again to see her, and she acts very huffy whenever his name comes up.”

  Holt’s expression had been neutral as she’d described the bedside scene. If the news surprised him, he hid it well.

  “They’ve always been close,” Holt said carefully. “But I’ve never seen anything to indicate their relationship went beyond that of employer and employee, or good friends.”

  “But you’ve had your suspicions,” Jessie said triumphantly. “I can see it on your face.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “They’ve lived under the same roof for almost twenty-five years,” Jessie persisted. “They probably know each other better than many married couples. In some ways, it almost seems natural for them to take their relationship to the next level, don’t you think?”

  “As in sleep together?”

  “Why not? My grandmother is only sixty-three. She’s still a vibrant, beautiful woman. Your father is what—sixty-five? He’s attractive, in good health. Why shouldn’t they have a romantic relationship? Realistically, they could be together for another twenty or thirty years.”

  “I don’t know.” Holt shook his head doubtfully. “My father is gun-shy. I can’t see him putting himself out there again for any woman. He’s been hurt too many times before.”

  “I understand, but his last divorce was years ago. Surely, he must get lonely.”

  “I’m sure he does, but he sees Rosa-Maria every day. She takes good care of him.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “They’re practically married now. They live together but just don�
�t have sex.”

  Jessie couldn’t help but wonder if Holt was describing his own brief marriage. She was consumed with curiosity about what had happened ten years ago, but she would never dare ask. Holt and his father were alike in so many ways. Did Holt also get lonely? She knew he went out of town frequently on cattle business. Did he have women that he hooked up with when he traveled to Fort Worth and Houston? She hated even thinking about the possibility.

  “They lived together,” she corrected him. “And they haven’t seen each other in days. My grandmother said if Gus wants to see her, he knows where to find her. She won’t return to Riverrun Ranch. Besides, how do you know they weren’t having sex?”

  Holt made a scoffing sound. “I would know.”

  “Really?” Jessie propped her chin on her hand and considered him. “How?”

  He gave her a tolerant look. “We all lived under the same roof. If something was going on between them, I would have known.”

  “Hmm. Doubtful. I’m sure he would have visited her in her apartment, which is on the other side of the house. He could have waited until you and Evan went to bed and then slipped down to see her. You’re out at the barn before dawn; he could easily return to his own room later and you’d never know anything was going on.”

  Holt’s eyes focused on her with a strange intensity, and Jessie could almost read his thoughts. He was thinking about their shared kiss and how easy it would have been to take it even further, in the privacy of the apartment. Would he ever dare pay her a midnight visit? The thought caused a delicious shiver to run through her body.

  “You have this all figured out, don’t you?” Holt leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve seen things over the past few years that have made me wonder.”

  Jessie leaned forward until their faces were close. She could see the texture of his skin, and the individual stubble on his jaw. Fixated on his mouth, she recalled again the sweet, hot tenderness of his kiss. “What kinds of things?”

  “Looks, mostly. I’ve seen the way they look at each other when they think the other isn’t aware. And when Rosa-Maria had her heart attack, I thought my father was going to collapse himself. He was terrified of losing her.”

  “Because he is in love with her. So why won’t he see her, now that she’s recovering?”

  “I don’t know.” Holt shrugged and sat back in his chair. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “Maybe you could speak with him,” Jessie suggested.

  Holt raised his hands and laughed softly. “No. Definitely no.”

  “Why not?” A troubling thought occurred to Jessie. “Do you think my grandmother isn’t good enough for your father?”

  “What? Of course not!” The surprise in his voice was genuine. “I love Rosa-Maria, you know that. She’s the best thing that ever happened to Riverrun Ranch, and probably the best thing that’s ever happened to my father. But they’re adults, Jessica. We should just let them work it out. I’m sure they wouldn’t thank us for butting in.”

  “But my grandmother seems so unhappy,” she pressed.

  “If it’s meant to be, they’ll figure it out.”

  His tone was firm, and clearly, he didn’t want to talk about his father and Rosa-Maria. Jessie knew he was probably right, but she loved her grandmother and only wanted her happiness.

  The waitress returned with their coffee and a plate of streusel cake. They both reached for the two forks that rested on the plate and their hands collided again. This time, Holt didn’t pull back but, instead, handed one fork to Jessie.

  “You first,” he said, holding her gaze. “I’ll try to restrain myself and let you have your fair share.”

  Jessie laughed. “Oh, you have no idea who you’re competing with, do you?”

  “If you’re trying to convince me you’re a glutton, you’ll have to do better than that,” he said, indicating her neat forkful of streusel. “Watch and learn.”

  He took a hefty forkful for himself and his eyes closed briefly as he chewed. Jessie paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and stared, feeling a bit like a voyeur.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s good,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling at her.

  Jessie returned his smile, enjoying this lighter side of Holt that she so rarely saw.

  “What other desserts do you like?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t being too transparent. If the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, she was going to make sure his taste buds were very happy.

  “Peach cobbler is my favorite,” he said. “Pecan pie is a close second, and I also like red velvet cake, but only if it’s slathered in cream cheese frosting.”

  “I like peach cobbler, too, but I’ve never been a fan of red velvet. Give me a dark chocolate cake any day.”

  Holt took another bite of streusel. “I only eat chocolate in combination with caramel.”

  A shadow fell across their table and Holt abruptly stood, his face creasing into a smile. Jessie looked up to see Minna Herdmann and her granddaughter, Lynn. Minna was the unofficial matriarch of Last Stand, and her family had lived in town since before the incident with the Mexican army that had given the town its name. More than one hundred years old, she was someone everyone knew and respected. She was a tiny, wiry woman with long gray hair that she wore in a braid, wrapped neatly around her head, and despite her advanced years, her eyes were bright with curiosity. There was little that escaped her notice.

  “Miss Minna.” Holt reached out to take her hand, clasping it warmly between his two larger ones. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  Minna beamed up at him like a young girl. “I could say the same, Holt Claiborne. I don’t see you much these days and never in such pretty company.” Her shrewd gaze turned to Jessie. “And Jessica, it’s nice to see you out enjoying yourself. How is your grandmother doing?”

  “She’s out of the hospital and feeling much better,” Jessie said. “Thank you so much for asking.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Minna’s gaze turned warm as her gaze moved between Jessie and Holt. “Life is short, even from my perspective. I heard she plans to retire, so my hope for her is that she can pursue whatever dreams she’s put on hold, thinking she had time. The truth is, happiness doesn’t wait for anyone. You need to grab it with both hands when it knocks on your door.” She emphasized her words with a soft thrust of a gnarled fist before she leaned in toward Jessie. “And don’t wait for a heart attack to wake you up.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jessie said.

  They watched as Lynn took the older woman’s arm and led her toward a table near the back of the restaurant. Holt sat down again, but Jessie thought his expression looked troubled.

  “She’s an amazing woman,” she ventured. “I can’t believe she’s over one hundred years old, and yet she somehow knows everything that goes on in this town.”

  Holt made a sound of agreement and took another bite of the streusel, but Jessie was willing to bet he no longer tasted the sweet dessert.

  “Are you all right?”

  Holt raised his gaze to hers. “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “Minna’s advice about happiness . . . do you agree with her? About grabbing happiness when you can?”

  Holt pushed the plate of streusel away and sat back in his chair. “What if there is no second chance at happiness, no next time? What if all you get is one shot at it and if you blow it, you’re done?”

  Jessie stared at him, more than a little taken aback by his response. Could he possibly believe happiness was not an option for himself?

  “Sometimes,” she said carefully, “you need a second chance, because you weren’t quite ready for the first one. But if you are lucky enough to get a second chance at happiness, I believe you shouldn’t waste it.”

  Holt’s lips twisted. “I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.”

  Jessie didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled the plate of streusel closer and took a generous forkful. Minna was right. Life was
short and her own time with Holt was running out.

  Chapter Nine

  Thunder rolled overhead, deep and rumbling. Standing on the terrace, Holt watched as lightning briefly illuminated the night sky. A breeze had kicked up, stirring the branches in the live oaks and cypress that surrounded the house. The storm would be on them soon. In between lightning strikes, the night was unrelentingly black.

  “We’re in for a doozy,” observed Evan, who stood beside him with a beer in one hand. “You were right about moving the herds up to the high pasture this morning.”

  “They should be fine,” Holt assured him. The high pastures had several three-sided shelters and they’d installed lightning rods, which would draw any strikes safely away from the cattle. “This will move through and blow over tonight.”

  Another crack of thunder split the air, and Evan jumped. “Damn, but that sounded like it was on top of us.”

  “I’m going to check on the momma cows,” Holt said. “I don’t need them getting spooked and injuring themselves.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Hearing the reluctance in Evan’s voice, Holt grinned. Evan hated thunderstorms. At least he no longer hid in his closet as he’d done when he was a child, but Holt wouldn’t ask him to come down to the barns, not when there was a good likelihood they could be caught in a deluge. Even Sam had disappeared, as he usually did when a storm came up.

  “No, I’ve got it covered.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go through the house and close up the windows,” Evan offered.

  Three days had passed since Holt and Jessie had grabbed coffee together in town. Tonight was her night off, but she’d left all the fixings for grilled burgers, as well as a batch of homemade potato salad and chocolate moon pies with a thick, creamy filling for dessert. Holt had thrown the burgers onto the grill for himself, Evan, and Gus, but realized he hadn’t seen Jessie since lunch. He didn’t know if she was still on the ranch, or if she’d gone out for the evening.

  As reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself, they had turned a corner in their relationship since they’d had coffee together in town. He no longer avoided her at mealtimes, and she seemed less nervous when he was around. He looked forward to seeing her throughout the day and realized he’d missed her at dinner that night. He wished he knew where she was at the moment.