by Cora Seton
She couldn’t go riding until her chores were done, though. Safety first, Jo thought wryly. Not that things seemed very safe around the ranch these days.
To his credit, Hunter kept his mouth shut and followed her lead, and Jo couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bunched and flexed under his shirt as he moved, the way his competent hands got each job done with a minimum of fuss but a maximum of masculine attractiveness.
She knew he wasn’t doing that on purpose; it was just the way he was. Strong, competent—
Hot.
She was glad he couldn’t really read her reactions to him. That would be embarrassing.
He’d done a good job of guessing at them last night, though. She remembered the easy way they’d moved together on the dance floor, and couldn’t help regretting that things had already become complicated. Hunter was an interesting man; far more interesting than anyone else she’d met.
The way he watched her made her aware of the differences between them. She’d always prided herself on being competent—and strong, too. Next to Hunter, she felt petite, which she was but didn’t acknowledge very often. She felt aware of her own curves; probably because Hunter seemed aware of them.
He didn’t say a word she could fault him for, however. Didn’t make a move that crossed a line. Just worked hard—
And appreciated her. Silently.
It felt good to be appreciated, she admitted to herself.
By the time her phone buzzed in her pocket she was vibrating with awareness. Somehow his quiet, confident movements had touched something inside her that left her—wanting. Wanting what, she wasn’t sure. Something carnal, she supposed. She was as much of an animal as all the other critters on the ranch. Stick a male and a female together for long enough, and watch what happened.
She pulled her attention back to the work at hand, stuck a hand in her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Hello?”
“Jo? It’s Megan. I’m back in town. Got time to grab lunch with me today?”
“Hell, yeah.” Megan Lawrence was her best friend, the one woman who got her all the way. She’d seen right through Sean from the start and had made her feelings clear. Megan had never met Grant, unfortunately, being out of town most of the time he’d been around. Maybe if she’d been in Chance Creek, things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand.
What would she think of Hunter? Jo squashed the errant thought. She didn’t care what Megan thought, because even if she did appreciate him appreciating her, his stay here was only temporary. She couldn’t let him make her forget her resolutions. She’d put up with him until her house was built, then send him packing.
Megan’s invitation couldn’t have come at a better time. She needed to get away from Two Willows, from Cass—and from this man who was getting under her skin. She agreed to meet her friend in town, and hung up to find Hunter frowning at her.
“You’re leaving?”
“For a while.”
“I just got here,” he pointed out.
“It’s not like I invited you to Two Willows.” She’d mean the retort as a joke, but Hunter’s frown made her think he’d taken it seriously.
“I didn’t come here to put you out,” he began.
“I was kidding.” Why was she apologizing to him? She’d spoken the truth; it was the General who had arranged to throw him in her path. After Cass’s and Sadie’s marriages, she couldn’t pretend not to know what he was doing. The General wanted control of the ranch and he was using the men he sent to accomplish that.
Which made Hunter the enemy, she reminded herself. She was supposed to keep her distance, not babysit his feelings.
“I’ve got a job to do here,” he said. “Build you a house. The best one I can manage. Try to convince you to let me build you an even better one come spring. I’m not going to push you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”
If he stayed here at Two Willows all winter, she’d be lost, Jo realized. He represented a risk even in the short term. She shouldn’t be interested in men at all after the past few months, but her heart didn’t care about should.
It cared about Hunter. Already. Even though she’d known him less than twenty-four hours.
“Whatever you came here for, you’re wasting your time,” she snapped, suddenly sick of trying to figure it all out. “Meanwhile, I’ve got work to do. And when I’m finished, I’m going to town.”
Two hours later, after finishing her chores and going back to the house for a quick clean-up, she sat across a booth from Megan at the Burger Shack, having left Hunter to fend for himself back at the ranch. By the time she got to the restaurant, she was ready to stop thinking about her own troubles and listen to some gossip.
“What’s new?” she asked as she unwrapped her burger and took a big bite.
“Not much. Except I’ve got this client from hell. He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s looking at property all over the place with no rhyme or reason, so Sharon’s dumped him on me. Ten to one he’ll turn out to be a looky-loo who doesn’t buy a thing. But I’ve still got to traipse all over town showing him everything.” Megan’s usually sleek updo had frayed around the edges, leading to tendrils that softened her careful, businesslike look. Jo knew Sharon was a senior member of the real estate company Megan worked for. She had a way of palming off bad prospects on Megan.
“I’m going to get a house soon. A small one.” Too late, Jo wondered if she should spill that news.
“A house? Can I be your realtor?” Megan brightened.
“I’m building one, actually. With help.” She set her burger down and concentrated on her fries. “The General sent a man to help me build something, and I told him that’s what I want. Since it’s late in the year, we’ll build a small, temporary house for now, and next year I’ll start a real one.”
“Wait, your dad sent you a man?” Megan nibbled on a fry. “That sounds interesting. He wouldn’t be the tall drink of water you were dancing with last night at Sadie’s wedding, would he?”
“How do you know about that?”
Megan gave her a look. “It’s a small town, and I went to Linda’s Diner for breakfast. I heard it from three different people.”
Jo stifled a groan.
“The General’s been sending you and your sisters a lot of men lately, come to think of it. Cass and Sadie each got one. And if I’m not mistaken, they married theirs.” Megan pretended not to be sure.
Jo rolled her eyes. Megan had been at Cass’s wedding. “He did and they did, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“What’s he like up close?”
“Hot.” Jo’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Megan, he’s…” She fanned herself. “I don’t know—trouble.”
Megan laughed. “That sounds about right, given the way you look now.”
“But I’m not supposed to be interested in men.”
Megan grew serious. “Hey, you’ve had a run of bad luck, but that doesn’t mean—”
Jo snorted. “Run of bad luck? The last two men I’ve dated have tried to kill my family. That’s more than a run of bad luck!”
“Okay, settle down and eat.” They both did so in silence for a minute. “Is it possible the General has sent a man he thinks won’t try to kill you?” Megan kept a straight face only for a few seconds before she dissolved into laughter again. “I’m sorry; that’s awful. I can’t believe I just made a joke.”
“I can,” Jo said, biting back her own smile. “The worst thing is, it’s actually funny—and actually true, too. And it’s not fair; the last person I want to be beholden to is the General.”
Megan sobered. “You and your sisters aren’t kids anymore, Jo. You shouldn’t treat your father as an enemy. He’s just a guy doing his best, don’t you think?”
“His best hasn’t measured up very well.” Jo didn’t want to talk about the General. She had no sympathy left for him. He’d walked out on them when they’d needed him most—when she’d needed him to make sense of the world after her mother died
. She might have been able to forgive him for that lapse, but not for all the surrogates he’d expected them to accept in lieu of their mother. Or the men who’d come to run the cattle operation and ran roughshod over her and Lena. That was unforgivable.
“Maybe he’s trying to fix that.”
“Maybe.” This was too sensitive a topic to debate with anyone—even Megan.
“Tell me more about the house. Have you designed it yet?” Megan seemed to sense she wanted to talk about something else.
“No,” Jo admitted, willing to meet her friend halfway. “Not sure I know where to start.”
“I do. With house plans. Look.” Megan pulled out her phone and showed Jo where to find sites full of plans for various houses. “Figure out the square feet you want, and then search for that. You’ll find a million photos and drawings. Then customize something for yourself. You want to be able to show this… Hunter… exactly what you want. You can look up building codes, too—to be sure you’re doing it all right.”
“That’s a good idea.” Jo’s fingers itched to take the phone and start on the project right away. Of course she should design her own home. She knew exactly what she wanted.
“And then there’s the floor coverings, the paint, the tile in the bathroom, the backsplash in the kitchen…” Megan began to flip through sites to show Jo the possibilities. “Subway tile has been big, but there are also all these glass tile choices that are pretty amazing. And look at this—”
The more she talked, the more Jo’s heart sank. “I don’t know a thing about interior design.”
“Don’t you watch house shows on cable TV?” Megan asked her. “Come on, every woman who hires me as a realtor knows about subway tiles.”
“I don’t really watch TV.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Hurry up and eat. We’ll make a quick stop at Renfrew’s and start looking at a few things. You need help. The one thing I’ve learned about renovations and building projects is you’d better be decisive, or someone else will.”
Jo’s thoughts immediately flashed to Hunter. He was definitely the decisive kind. So was Cass. Megan was right; she had to make up her own mind or she’d get railroaded.
Having plans and decisions to make was a good thing. It would keep her mind off the events of the past couple of months—
And keep her from falling for Hunter.
Chapter Three
‡
“How was lunch?” Hunter asked when Jo entered the kitchen again later that afternoon. He’d been helping Lena but had come back to the house for a drink, and—if he was honest—in the hopes of finding Jo home. He’d given her space for several hours. Now it was time to mend some fences.
“It was fine.”
She was still keeping her distance—and she didn’t want to look him in the eye. Was that because she was angry? Or because she didn’t want him to read what was on her mind? He thought she was curious about him.
Was she hoping for another kiss?
Thinking about the way she felt in his arms had kept him up half the night. He could use another kiss right about now.
“Hey, look—I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier.” The apology felt awkward. Hunter realized he didn’t make them too often. His wasn’t in the line of work for pleasantries. You made decisions, you carried them out, you moved on.
“No, you were right; I was running from a confrontation.” Jo hesitated near the door. “Thing is, I don’t like confrontations much—not with family.”
“Most people don’t. But the more you hold your ground and face arguments, the more people will listen to you.”
“No one listens to me around here.”
Hunter thought about the respect he’d heard in Connor’s voice about the way she’d handled Grant’s attack. “Is that true?” he asked.
Jo, who had just crossed the room to pull a glass from a cupboard, stopped. “Of course it’s true. You heard Cass bossing me around yesterday.”
“I heard her expressing an opinion. You had a different one. That’s how people communicate.”
“She wasn’t expressing an opinion.” Jo finger-quoted the phrase. “She was telling me what to do.”
“But she’s not your mother. You don’t have to listen to her, right? So is the problem that she’s bossing you around? Or is the problem that you’re letting her?”
“Why don’t you butt out of it?”
Jo was getting angry, and he sounded far more like a dad than a potential boyfriend, which wouldn’t accomplish anything. Hunter decided to change the topic. “Let’s talk about the house. We need to get a move on to get it done before the weather changes.” It was early September. He figured by mid-October it would cool off considerably.
“You’d better believe it.” She pulled the glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. Tabitha wound around her ankles, and she reached down to pet the cat absently.
“Any thoughts about what you want?” It was like walking on eggshells. If she was in his unit, he’d tell her to get over herself and get her mind on the job. He couldn’t do that with Jo. Was he ready for this? he wondered, not for the first time. He was a man who’d spent far too much time with other men, in difficult situations, doing jobs that were far from glamorous. Would he be able to settle down and make Jo a good husband?
“What size house can you get done?” Jo stood up again and Tabitha wandered off.
At least that was a direct question. One he could answer. He gladly shook off his dark thoughts. “Here’s the thing. If you want to build a house, the first thing you’ll run up against is the permitting process. That takes time, and we don’t have time. There’s a way to get around that, though.” He’d looked into home building briefly the night before, spotted the problem immediately and had searched for an answer.
“How?”
“Build small—and in our case, build mobile.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we buy a metal trailer—not the house kind; just a frame with wheels, the kind you use to haul things around. We build your little house on top of the trailer. Park it anywhere you like. If you want to move it to a new location later, we just hitch it up and move it again.”
“That’s going to be small.”
“Maybe not as small as you think. Think of it like an Airstream; big enough to be comfortable, as long as you keep the weight down. I’ve got a lot of ideas.”
“So do I,” she rushed to say.
“I found someone advertising a frame like that online,” he told her. He pulled out his phone and found the ad. “Take a look at this. Here are the dimensions.”
“One hundred and eighty square feet,” she mused.
Hunter couldn’t help noting the dusting of freckles over her fair skin. Sweet. Like she was.
He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “How about we go outside and find where to put this thing?”
Maybe Hunter had learned his lesson. He was sure treating her better than he had earlier. He was listening to her. She liked that.
Jo followed him outside, noting again his tall stature and the wide spread of his shoulders. His body had felt awfully good pressed against hers last night when they were dancing, and she’d found herself thinking about being close to him in an entirely different way.
That was natural, she told herself. He was a man, she was a woman. Of course they’d think about each other. That didn’t mean she’d let him get past her guard.
“One thing to consider when you’re talking about location is where you have utilities already in place,” Hunter said. “I get that you want to be on your own, but if you build too far away, it’ll be a big spend to hook up your house to new water lines and so on. We should keep it reasonable. It’s only a temporary house, after all.”
“I’m okay being close,” Jo hurried to say. His reasoning made sense. Besides, as much as she wanted to have her own place, last night, lying in bed, she’d begun to picture sleeping alone—away from everyone else. Sh
e’d never been afraid of that kind of thing before, but she was a realist. Her family’s problems weren’t over—that was clear. It was obvious the first men who’d tried to grab their land hadn’t been working alone. They’d been hired by someone who wanted a property big enough to hide a drug-running and manufacturing operation. Why that person hadn’t simply bought a property of their own, Jo couldn’t say, but it was clear that first failure had angered him. In revenge, he’d sent Grant Kimball and his friend, Ron Cooper, to extort enough money from her family to recoup his losses from the first debacle.
Now Grant was dead, and Ron had been extradited back to Tennessee, where he had outstanding warrants. Whoever was behind the trouble probably was based there. “They must be trying to establish a pipeline,” Cab had told them. “To open up a new territory. They’ve lost men and money now, and it feels to me that whoever is at the head of this is taking it personally. You all have to watch out.”
Jo pictured Grant again, charging into the kitchen, a pistol in his hand. The way she’d played drugged by Sadie’s sedative tea. Waited for her chance—and nearly panicked when he’d tossed her over his shoulder to carry her off.
The way she’d grabbed the knife from the counter and plunged it into his back.
It hadn’t stopped him—had only bought her and the others time to hide in the carriage house in Alice’s studio.
She’d hoped he’d leave then. But he’d kept coming.
No matter what they did.
Kept coming up the stairs. Attacking them. Waving the gun at them.
Until they’d all scrambled to fight over it on the landing, and she’d taken it from him just as he’d thrown Sadie down the stairs.