by Karen Foley
Luke was referring to Cort, and Holt’s early condemnation of him when he’d believed the younger man was trying to swindle Emmaline out of her inheritance. He’d been wrong about that, much to everyone’s relief.
“I’ll talk to her, but I don’t think it’s going to make a difference.”
Chapter Thirteen
Holt was in deep shit, literally.
He was in the breeding barn, checking the progress of each pregnant cow. Beside him, Cort held a cow’s tail aside while Holt stood behind the animal, wearing an arm-length glove as he carefully palpated the cow’s uterus, feeling for the unborn calf. After a moment, he grinned at Cort.
“Twins.”
“Nice.”
Holt withdrew his arm and was stripping the glove off when a shadow fell across his feet.
“Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Holt turned. Jessie stood several feet away, and he didn’t need to be a genius to tell she was angry. She wore a pair of shorts with Western boots and a loose, flowery top, and her hair hung in a single, dark braid over her shoulder. He wished to hell she didn’t look so good. Less than a day had passed since he’d overheard the conversation on her deck. He’d planned to return to her house that afternoon to talk with her. But he hadn’t.
“I’ll, uh, just put momma cow back with the others,” Cort said, glancing uneasily between the two of them. Without waiting for a response, he led the cow to the back of the enormous barn where the pens were located.
“Bring me out another one,” Holt called after him. He discarded the soiled glove and angled his head to look at Jessie as he walked over to the indoor sink to wash his hands. “I was going to stop by your place later.”
“Why? To accuse me of wanting your money?” Her expressive eyes flashed fire at him and her entire body was rigid with suppressed emotion. He guessed that Luke had talked to Jorie, who had, in turn, talked to Jessie. So now she knew that he was onto her plan to marry him for his money. Even after finding out she wasn’t what he’d thought her to be, he had to admit her outrage seemed genuine. He just wished his heart didn’t react so strongly to the sight of her. There was a part of him that longed to tell her he didn’t care why she wanted him, as long as she wanted him. She could have anything—a ring, his money, the whole enchilada, if she would just look at him the way she had that night.
Drying his hands, he picked up the clipboard he’d been using to annotate the results of the examinations and made his own pretense of being absorbed in writing. “Do you deny it?”
“You’re damned right I deny it! Do you really believe I’m after your money? That I have some”—she gestured with her hands—“some devious plan to trick you into marrying me so that I can get my hands on your money?”
Holt lowered the clipboard and looked at her. “Don’t you?”
“No! Honestly, Holt, it isn’t like you to jump to conclusions. Whatever you believe, you’re wrong.”
“I know what I overheard, Jessica.”
“Oh, really? Tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me what you think you heard.”
Holt blew out a hard breath. “You said you wouldn’t return to the ranch unless it was as Mrs. Claiborne.”
Jessie recoiled and her expression turned to one of disbelief. “That conversation was private and—by the way—had absolutely nothing to do with you! Are you really so arrogant as to believe every woman who shows an interest in you wants to marry you?”
Holt stiffened. “I also heard you say that you needed money and I was the key to getting it.”
Jessie crossed her arms and stared him down. “Yes, I did say that.”
“So I was right.”
To his astonishment, her expression softened. The anger seemed to slip away, replaced with something like exasperation and affection.
“No, Holt, you couldn’t be more wrong.” She stepped toward him, lowering her voice. “I was talking about my grandmother. She loves your father, but they’ve had some kind of falling out. When I asked if she might be interested in moving back to the ranch, she said she would only return to Riverrun as your father’s wife!” She paused. “If you’re still not sure, ask my mother, she was there. Ask Rosa-Maria. I’m sure she’d tell you the truth. Better yet, ask Gus. I think that’s what they argued about and why he won’t see her. He refuses to get married again because he’s too afraid of getting hurt.” A faint smile crossed her face. “Like father, like son, apparently.”
Holt frowned, feeling more and more foolish in the face of her reasonable explanation. “What about the money? I didn’t mistake that.”
“Actually, you did. My grandmother told me how you’ve invested her money for her all these years and that she’s accumulated a nice nest egg. She wants me to use part of it to purchase my food truck.”
Holt shook his head. “No, that’s not what I heard.”
“She also told me that if I want the money, I’d need to speak to you about it because you manage the account. That’s what you heard, Holt. You’re the key to releasing my grandmother’s funds. But if you still don’t believe me, talk to Emmaline. She was the one on the phone with me that morning.”
Holt swore beneath his breath. “Jessica, I don’t know what to say. I’ve been an ass.”
“Yes, you have.”
Holt spread his hands out. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no.” Jessie put her hands up and took a step backward. “You do not get to apologize and all is forgiven. I mean, I’ll probably forgive you eventually, because I actually understand how you might have misread the situation, but right now I am still furious that you would think that about me. That you could actually believe me capable of something so cold. Especially after—”
She broke off.
“Jessica—”
“You believed the worst of me, Holt, but you know what hurts the most?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply as she plunged on. “I’ve been crazy about you for a long time and the other night was like a dream come true. It was beyond amazing. I gave you a part of myself that I’ve never shared with anyone: my heart. I love you, Holt Blaisdell Claiborne, but I’m not like my grandmother. I’m not going to hang around for another twenty years, waiting for you to decide whether or not you want me in your life.”
Holt felt gutted by her words, his mind reeling. A hard ache formed in the center of his chest and he had to resist the urge to rub the area. “Jessica, tell me what I need to do to make this right. Please.” He wanted to tell her he loved her, too, but found he couldn’t form the words. “I do want you in my life,” he said, instead.
She considered him for a moment. “Woo me, Holt. If that’s true, then show me. Make it public and take me on a date. I want an old-fashioned courtship, and you don’t even need to spend a penny.”
“Woo you?” Holt stared at her. “I’m not even sure I know what that means.”
“You’ll figure it out.” She gave him a small smile. “See you later.”
He watched as she turned and left the barn, and then followed her to the open doors. Jessie walked toward the house, her head high. She didn’t look back once.
“You okay?”
Holt turned to see Cort standing several feet away, watching him. His face was carefully impassive, but there was no mistaking the humor and empathy in his eyes.
Holt dragged in a deep breath and blew it out hard. “I have no fucking clue what to do.”
Cort rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I once rode a bull named Nitroglycerin. That son of a bitch had a reputation as a rank, unrideable monster. I very nearly quit bull riding that day, that’s how scared I was. But I’d drawn his name, and if I wanted to realize my dream, I had no choice but to climb on and hope for the best. I was just twenty-one and I didn’t really care if I couldn’t stick for eight seconds—I knew I wouldn’t. I just needed to survive the ride, however short it might be.”
“Is there a point to this story?”
Cort seemed unfazed by Holt’s imp
atience. “That bull exploded out of the chute with me on his back and then proceeded to run around the arena, but he never got his ass into the air.” He paused. “It was the best and worst ride of my career. The best, because I stayed on past the eight-second buzzer and the worst because, for the next month, I felt like the laughingstock of the circuit. They retired Nitroglycerin shortly after that. He never bucked again.”
Holt regarded the other man with a steady look, wondering how the story was relevant. “That’s, uh, very interesting.”
Cort grinned. “I learned a lot from that ride. Expect the unexpected. Whatever you think will happen, be prepared for the opposite.” He tipped his hat back on his head. “You’re expecting to get bucked off and busted up, but instead you find yourself on the softest, sweetest ride of your life. Theoretically speaking, of course. But you’ll never know which way it’s going to go until you climb on.” He skewered Holt with a direct look. “I wasted unnecessary time worrying about that damned ride. Don’t let fear hold you back, Holt. Don’t quit just because you’re afraid the ride will be rough. Maybe you’ll be surprised.”
“Or maybe I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“I got over it,” Cort said drily. “So will you.”
Holt hesitated. “She wants me to woo her.”
Cort laughed. “You’ll do great.”
“I’ve never courted a woman.”
“Use your imagination. What do women like?” Cort began to check off on his fingers. “Flowers. Picnics. Surprise drives through the country. Lemonade and porch swings. Impulsive gestures. Lots of kissing.”
“I’ve never been the impulsive kind,” Holt complained.
“Maybe you should try it.”
“Bring me another cow,” he told Cort. “Let’s get this finished.”
Cort looked at him with something like disappointment in his eyes. “Sure,” he said, but as he turned away, he said something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like Coward.
*
Had she overreacted?
Driving back to her own house, Jessie’s thoughts replayed the scene in the barn again and again. In all fairness, she understood how Holt might have misunderstood what he’d overheard. Considering his first wife had put him through hell, his suspicion was understandable. But Jessie couldn’t get past the hurt of knowing he’d thought the worst about her. At the very least, he could have confronted her and given her the chance to explain herself instead of leaping to conclusions. That’s what stung the most—that she’d opened herself to him body and heart, yet he didn’t trust her.
But he had apologized, she reminded herself. And his distress had seemed sincere. She recalled again the look in his eyes when she’d told him she wouldn’t wait around for him to make up his mind about her. For just an instant, he’d looked completely devastated. It had taken everything Jessie had not to run into his arms and tell him she would never, ever leave him.
She groaned, remembering what she had said to him. She’d told him she loved him. She’d put her feelings out there and the best he could do was to say he wanted her in his life. She’d left, half hoping he would chase after her, but he hadn’t. Would he accept her challenge to woo her? She liked the idea of Holt showing up in his truck with a handful of wildflowers. If he really cared enough about her, he needed to show it. She was done pursuing him.
As she drove through town, she made a spur-of-the-moment decision and pulled into the bank parking lot. She would request a loan for the food truck and finally move forward with that dream. She didn’t want to wait another year to save the money and she didn’t want to take any of her grandmother’s precious savings. She preferred to be master of her own destiny and this would ensure she wouldn’t have to ask Holt for anything.
Thirty minutes later, having secured a preapproval for the loan, Jessie returned to her vehicle. All that was required was for her to drive over to the dealership and sign the paperwork. The food truck could be hers before the end of the day. She’d need to make some sacrifices in order to afford the payment, but she hoped those would only be temporary and that her business would soon pay for itself. She sat for a moment in her Jeep and let the enormity of what she’d done sink in. Her dream of becoming an entrepreneur was within her grasp. Everything was falling into place. Well, everything except for what she’d wanted for the longest time—Holt Claiborne. She should be happy, but instead she wanted to cry.
As if in sympathy with her dismal mood, fat raindrops began to plop onto her windshield. Glancing upward, she saw the skies were dark with storm clouds. Maybe she would wait until the next day to visit the dealership. The truck would still be there tomorrow, and she could spend today finalizing the many other things that needed to be done before she could actually get her business on the road.
By the time she arrived at her house, the rain had intensified and thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Jessie made a dash for the cottage, sprinting up the stairs to the deck and wasting precious seconds unlocking the door. By the time she was finally inside, she was soaked through. She changed into dry clothes and stood by the French doors that led to her deck, watching the rain pelt the glass. Beyond the deck, the waters of the Pedernales River churned past, stirred to a muddy brown by the deluge. Jessie had placed four lawn chairs and a low table on the grass near the riverbank and she considered dragging them to higher ground in case the water rose. Even as she walked toward the closet for her rain jacket, her phone began to ring. Her heart skipped a beat and she couldn’t suppress the hope that it might be Holt.
“Hey, Jessie, it’s me.”
“Emmaline, hi.” She paused, guessing the reason for her friend’s phone call. “Cort told you what happened.”
“Are you okay?”
“As well as can be expected, considering I pretty much gave Holt an ultimatum with no guarantee he’ll do what I want.” Jessie sighed deeply before walking into her living room and making herself comfortable on the couch. “I still can’t believe he thought I wanted to marry him for his money. Was I wrong to confront him?”
“No. He needs to know he’s not always right and that he makes mistakes just like the rest of us mortals.”
Jessie smiled reluctantly. “I’m sure he hates that.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Holt has misread a situation. He all but threw Cort out of the house last year because he thought he was after my money. See a theme here?”
“Well, he admitted he was mistaken about Cort, and he apologized for jumping to conclusions about me,” Jessie said.
“I’m sure he feels terrible about what happened. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing him sooner than later. Holt’s a smart guy and he’s not going to let you get away.”
Jessie wished she could be so sure, but she didn’t say so to Emmaline.
“Thanks, I appreciate the call.”
“You sound a little down. I can come over if you’d like.”
“I’m okay,” Jessie fibbed. “I actually stopped by the bank on my way home and got approved for a loan.”
“Finally! Jessie, that’s wonderful.”
They talked for a few minutes longer until Jessie had convinced Emmaline that she was doing just fine.
Even if it wasn’t the truth.
Outside, the rain continued to beat at the windows.
Chapter Fourteen
Four hours after Jessie left Riverrun Ranch, the rain still cascaded down. Holt and Cort stood inside the barn and watched the deluge. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by yet another crack of thunder. They had finished examining each of the pregnant cows and were now debating whether or not to make a run for the house.
“This isn’t clearing up anytime soon,” observed Holt. “I have some paperwork I can finish up here.”
“Glad we moved the cattle to high ground yesterday,” Cort commented. “You were right about the storm.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the only thing I’ve been right about lately.” His voice was terse.
Th
e sound of a phone ringing distracted them. Holt pulled his mobile phone out of a pocket and glanced at it before answering, trying not to let his disappointment show. It wasn’t Jessie, although he hadn’t really expected her to call him. The next move was on him if he wanted to make things right with her.
“Hey, Evan, you okay? I thought you’d be back by now.” He could barely hear his brother on the other end of the connection but what he did hear galvanized him into action. “Hang on. We’ll be there as soon as we can!”
“What’s going on?” Cort’s attention was riveted on him.
“Evan found a cluster of cattle in the low pasture, near the river. They’re on the wrong side of the fence and the water is rising. They knocked down the fence trying to escape and now they’re tangled in wire. Evan needs help cutting them free.”
“Let’s go,” Cort said.
He and Cort threw on their rain gear, saddled their horses, and loaded wire cutters and extra gloves into the saddlebags. They rode through the torrential downpour toward the low pasture. The weather forced them to go slowly, picking their way through the gullies of water and eddies of mud toward the spot where Evan said he had found the cattle. At one point, the trail had been washed out, forcing them to seek an alternate route. They rode instead along a ridge that paralleled the river and, even through the driving rain, Holt could see the current was swift.
“There he is!” Cort shouted and pointed toward a copse of trees near a bend in the river.
They picked their way down the ridge, the horses sliding on the slick ground. When they reached the bottom, Holt assessed the situation. Evan’s horse stood about fifty yards away, loosely tethered to a shrub. Nearby, a dozen cattle had found their way onto the wrong side of the wire fencing and had become trapped between the rising water and the barbed-wire barrier. In their panic, they had dragged the wire down and four cows were caught in the tangle of metal and wood. Holt could just see Evan in the middle of the mess, cutting wire as rain sheeted down.