Tempting the Rancher

by Brenda Jackson

  He pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. Then he showed Tess just how much he appreciated her staying a little while longer.

  Chapter 20

  Ryan waved Tripp to the booth he’d secured at the back of the Daily Grind.

  Tripp was an uncomplicated guy who always ordered the same thing. At the Royal Diner, a stack of pancakes, two eggs over easy, crispy bacon and black coffee. Here at the Daily Grind, a bear claw that rivaled the size of one’s head and a cup of black coffee, two sugars.

  Ryan had placed their order as soon as he’d arrived, wanting to get right down to their conversation.

  His friend slid into the booth and looked at the plate on the table and his cup of coffee. “You already ordered for me?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s still hot. I picked up our order two minutes ago.”

  Tripp sipped his coffee. “Why do I have the feeling that I’m about to get some really bad news?”

  “Depends on your point of view, I guess.” Ryan shoved the still warm cinnamon bun aside, his hands pressed to the table.

  “It must be really bad. Did something happen to our parents on the cruise?”

  “It’s nothing like that.” Ryan swallowed hard, tapping the table lightly. He looked up squarely at his friend. “I just... I need to tell you that I broke my promise to you...about Tess.” Ryan sat back in the booth. “Tripp, I love her. I think I always have.”

  “I see.” Tripp’s gaze hardened. “Since you’re coming to me with this, it’s probably safe to assume you’re already sleeping with my little sister.”

  Ryan didn’t respond either way. He owed Tripp this, but the details of their relationship, that was between him and Tess. They didn’t owe anyone else an explanation.

  “Of course.” Tripp nodded, his fists clenched on the table in front of him. “That damn auction. The gift that keeps on giving.”

  Ryan half expected his friend to try to slug him, as he had when they were teenagers and the kids at school had started a rumor that Ryan was Tess’s boyfriend. It was the last time the two of them had an honest-to-goodness fight.

  That was when Tripp had made him promise he’d never lay a hand on Tess.

  “Look, Tripp, I know you didn’t think I was good enough for your sister. Deep down, I think I believed that, too. But more than anything I was afraid to ruin my friendship with her or you. You and Tess...you’re more than just friends to me. You’re family.”

  “If you were so worried about wrecking our friendships, what’s changed? Why are you suddenly willing to risk it?” Tripp folded his arms as he leaned on the table.

  “I’ve changed. Or at least, my perspective has. I can’t imagine watching your sister live a life with someone else. Marrying some other guy and raising their children. Wishing they were ours.” Ryan shook his head. “That’s a regret I can’t take to my grave. And if it turns out I’m wrong, I honestly believe my friendship with you and Tess is strong enough to recover. But the thing is... I don’t think I am wrong about us. I love her, Tripp, and I’m gonna ask her to marry me. But I wanted to come to you first and explain why I could no longer keep my promise.”

  “You’re planning to propose? Already? God, what the hell happened with you guys in Dallas?” Tripp shut his eyes and shook his head. “Never mind. On second thought, don’t ever tell me what happened in Dallas.”

  “Now that’s a promise I’m pretty sure I can keep.” Ryan chuckled.

  “I guess it could be worse. She could be marrying some dude I hate instead of one of my best friends.”

  It was as close to a blessing as he was likely to get from Tripp. He’d gladly take it.

  “Thanks, man. That means a lot. I promise, I won’t let you or Tess down.”

  “You’d better not.” Tripp picked up his bear claw and took a huge bite.

  It was another promise he had every intention of keeping.

  * * *

  Ryan, Tessa, Tripp and both sets of their parents, had dinner at the Glass House restaurant at the exclusive five-star Bellamy resort to celebrate their parents’ return and Tripp landing the Noble Spur’s biggest customer account to date.

  The restaurant was decked out in festive holiday decor. Two beautiful Douglas firs. Twinkling lights everywhere. Red velvet bows and poinsettias. Then there were gifts wrapped in shiny red, green, gold and silver foil wrapping paper.

  Tessa couldn’t be happier. She was surrounded by the people who meant the most to her. And both her parents and Ryan’s had been thrilled that she and Ryan had finally acknowledged what both their mothers claimed to have known all along. That she and Ryan were hopelessly in love.

  Ryan had surprised her with an early Christmas gift—the Maybach saddle she’d mused about on their drive to Dallas.

  Even Tripp was impressed.

  The food at the Glass House was amazing, as always. And a live act, consisting of a vocalist and an acoustic guitar player, set the mood by serenading the patrons with soft ballads.

  When they started to play Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years,” Ryan asked her to dance. Next, the duo performed Train’s song, “Marry Me.”

  “I love that song. It’s so perfect.” Tessa swayed happily to the music as the vocalist sang the romantic lyrics.

  “It is.” He grinned. “And so are you. I’m so lucky that the woman I love is also my best friend. You, Tess, are the best Christmas gift I could ever hope for.”

  “That’s so sweet of you to say, babe.” Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone with tears. She smiled. “Who says you’re not romantic?”

  “You make me want to be. Because you deserve it all. Romance, passion, friendship. A home of our own, marriage, kids. You deserve all of that and more. And I want to be the man who gives that to you.”

  Tessa blinked back tears. “Ryan, it sounds a lot like you’re asking me to marry you.”

  “Guess that means I ain’t doing it quite right.” Ryan winked and pulled a gray velvet box from his pocket. He opened it and Tessa gasped, covering her mouth with both hands as he got down on one knee and took her left hand in his.

  “Tessa Marie Noble, you’re my best friend, my lover, my confidante. You’ve always been there for me, Tess. And I always want to be there for you, making an incredible life together right here in the town we both love. Would you please do me the great honor of being my wife?”

  “Yes.” Tessa nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nothing would make me happier than marrying my best friend.”

  Ryan slipped on the ring and kissed her hand.

  He’d known the moment he’d seen the ring that it was the one for Tess. As unique and beautiful as the woman he loved. A chocolate diamond solitaire set in a strawberry gold band of intertwined ribbons sprinkled with vanilla and chocolate diamonds.

  Tessa extended her hand and studied the ring, a wide grin spreading across her gorgeous face. “It’s my Neapolitan engagement ring!”

  “Anything for you, babe.” Ryan took her in his arms and kissed her with their families and fellow diners cheering them on.

  But for a few moments, everyone else disappeared, and there was only Tessa Noble. The woman who meant everything to him, and always would.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from One Week to Claim It All by Adriana Herrera.

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  One Week to Claim It All

  by Adriana Herrera

  Chapter One

  Esmeralda Sambrano-Peña leaned on the door to the small Washington Heights apartment she shared wit
h her mother and took a moment to catch her breath. She could hear the excited chatter and laughter coming from inside, and the image of her mother and her three aunties holding their weekly get-together brought a tired smile to her face. Her tías and their penchant for neighborhood gossip and salacious jokes always managed to put her in a good mood. And after an extremely long and disappointing day it was comforting to hear familiar voices.

  Her smile flagged when she realized she’d have to tell her mother, in front of her tías, that her project had been turned down. Again. Esmeralda sighed and tried to regroup with her body resting against the door. This rejection had hurt more than the others because she’d come so close. The TV series pilot she’d been trying to sell for almost two years had been inches away from actually getting produced. But at the last minute the producers had backed out, claiming the subject matter didn’t have wide commercial appeal. Esme let out a frustrated huff as she put the key in the door and pushed it open.

  “Hola, Mami!” she called tiredly from the narrow hallway leading to their small living room, while she took off her shoes and hung her jacket on the rack by the door. The apartment wasn’t big, but it was enough space for them. Two bedrooms, with a living room and kitchen, on Riverside Drive was real estate gold in New York City. Esme flinched at the memory of how they’d ended up in the apartment she and her mother shared. Thinking about the reasons they’d been forced to move here in the first place still filled her with anger, even ten years later.

  “Mija, the tías are here,” her mother called loudly, as if Esme wasn’t only a few feet away.

  She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, as she stepped into the living room and found the four older women sprawled on the sectional couch, each with a glass of wine in hand. They were dressed to the nines, as always. To her mother and her aunts, leaving the house without a perfectly put together outfit and full makeup wasn’t even an option.

  “Ladies.” She walked over and dutifully kissed each one on the cheek. They were supposed to be discussing self-help books. But each week the affirmations and book talk lasted about thirty minutes, and the rest of the time was dedicated to downing chilled Moscato and gossiping about the latest news in the neighborhood or back home in the Dominican Republic.

  “I see the book conversation is going well,” she teased, taking a seat between her mother and her aunt Rebeca.

  “What did they say?” Ivelisse asked, ignoring the comment about the neglected books on the coffee table. And of course the mere mention of her production meeting had the rest of the tías perking up. As soon as Esme sat down, she noticed that her mother looked a bit tense. Her usual cheerful expression was tentative, like she was anticipating trouble. She probably suspected Esme’s meeting had been a bust.

  Esme closed her eyes and shook her head, feeling defeated. “They passed on it.” Words of encouragement quickly followed from all directions. Her mom threw an arm around her and her tías all shuffled around so they could pat her on the leg or the arm in an effort to reassure her.

  “Their loss, mija. One day those dummies will wise up to your brilliance, and when they do, it’ll be too late.” Esme opened her eyes to find her tía Rebeca looking thunderous. She had always been Esme’s number-one fan. Even back when Esme would make short films on her phone about events in the neighborhood, Rebeca would always sit down and watch, fully focused on her creations. She never hesitated to give her serious feedback.

  “Thanks, Tía,” Esme said wearily. She was grateful for their love and support. But she was too exhausted to go into the nonsense reasons the producers gave her for passing. “Enough about me. What else is going on—anything exciting happen today?”

  To Esme’s surprise they didn’t push her to share more about her meeting. Instead every one of them shifted their expectant gazes to Esme’s mom, who in turn got that look she only had when she was about to hit Esme with a strong dose of the Dominican guilt trip. She braced herself. “Qué pasó, Mami?”

  Ivelisse didn’t answer immediately, making a show of leaning over to get something that was sitting on the table. The energy in the room changed as soon as Ivelisse grabbed the white envelope. The tías all had their eyes on the piece of paper like it was a ticking bomb. For some reason Esme noticed that the vintage Tank Française watch Ivelisse never took off glinted in the light of the small lamp on the table. The gold Cartier watch had been a gift from Esme’s father. And even after everything he’d done, Ivelisse cared for it as if it was a rare treasure. “This came for you today, mija,” her mother said, bringing her out of her thoughts.

  Esme narrowed her eyes at the name on the upper left corner of the envelope. She recognized it as the attorney who was handling her father’s estate. She took it from her mother, noticing it had been slit open. “Mami,” she chastised as she pulled the paper out. Ivelisse just lifted a shoulder, not even attempting contrition.

  “It’s happening tomorrow, Esmeralda.”

  Her mother didn’t have to say what. Esmeralda already knew.

  There in large black font at the very top of the expensive stationery were the words FINAL NOTICE. Eleven months and twenty-seven days had passed since her estranged father’s death. Since she’d learned that, to the horror of his wife and his other children, he’d left a provision in his will to make Esmeralda the president and CEO of the television studio he’d turned into a billion-dollar empire. His last wish was to leave the daughter he’d barely acknowledged for most of her life at the helm of his company. Esme could still not quite believe it herself, and had done her best to ignore it whenever her mother had tried to show her the notices that had come every month since her father’s death. But she hadn’t turned it down, either, and now her time to decide was almost up.

  Patricio Sambrano had started small in the ’70s, producing some radio dramas and news shows in Spanish for the Latinx community in New York City. The shows became an instant sensation, and with the vision that would make him a legend in the entertainment industry, he soon realized what his people wanted was to see their stories on the small screen. He hustled and harnessed old friendships on the island and across the US, and over the next fifteen years he brought Latinx life to American television. He’d been innovative, gutsy, political and unapologetic about showcasing the culture, and the end result had been Sambrano Studios, the first all-Spanish, all-color network in the United States.

  Her father built something out of nothing with his ingenuity and raw talent. An Afro-Dominican man with barely a sixth-grade education had done all that. But as sharp as Patricio had been with his business, his personal life had been messy and undisciplined. Esmeralda herself was the result of one of the more chaotic times in Patricio’s life. Only weeks after becoming engaged to the daughter of a Dominican financier, he married her—consolidating his ability to expand the studio’s interests. It was a bold move that gave him the resources he needed to fully realize his dreams. It had been a surprise for everyone. Especially Esmeralda’s mother, who had been in a relationship with Patricio for almost five years and only found out about the wedding when she heard about it on the Sambrano evening news. She’d been pregnant with Esmeralda when she realized that the man she loved had never intended to build a family with her.

  When Ivelisse, devastated from his betrayal, finally told Patricio she was expecting, he told her he’d provide financially but he couldn’t be a father to any child outside his marriage. And in that, at least, he’d been true to his word.

  And then after twenty-nine years of treating her like she didn’t exist, her father had overlooked his wife and his legitimate children to hand her the top position at Sambrano. Like that was supposed to make up for a lifetime of feeling like she didn’t matter. To erase the humiliation she and her mother had suffered at his hands. The decades of being ignored or receiving messages from third parties because her father couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when she called him.

  Stil
l, he had paid for the education that gave her the foundation to get a start in the industry and gain the experience she needed to run the studio. Because no matter how many times she’d told herself she didn’t care what her father thought of her, when choosing a college she picked the University of Southern California because of their film and television program. When deciding on graduate school she went for an MBA with a focus in entertainment. Because she was a fool with daddy issues and despite being invisible to him most of her life, she still yearned for his approval.

  But she’d never asked him for a job. And because she was also her mother’s daughter, she’d wanted to show him that she didn’t need him. She wanted to climb to the very top of his own industry without him. Not once did Esme give her father the satisfaction of hearing her ask for his help. She never thought he’d noticed and yet, his last wish was to entrust her with his legacy. She could do so much as president of Sambrano, but not at the price of selling herself out. Her pride had to be worth something.

  And then again, maybe Patricio was just cashing in on the investment he’d made.

  “Mi amor, where did you go?” Her mother’s soft voice pierced through Esme’s tumultuous thoughts. A pang of guilt and anticipation twisted in her gut as she looked at the paper again. It felt heavy in her hands: this could be the door to pursuing the vision she had for the future of Latinx television. But her father had never given her anything that didn’t come at a cost, and the price had almost always been her pride. She’d learned long ago to always look for the strings whenever Patricio Sambrano was involved.

  “Mami, this is a joke. Just another way for him to put me in my place. His kids and his wife won’t stand for it.”

  Her mother and aunts responded to this with a choir of clucks and shaking heads. Her aunt Yocasta spoke before her mother could. “Mi niña, you know I’ve never had anything good to say about that cabrón.” She didn’t have to say who the cabrón was. Yocasta was never shy when it came to cursing Patricio Sambrano’s name for the way he’d treated Esme and her mom. “But that baboso wouldn’t risk his company to make a point. What he would do is go over the head of that bruja he married and put you in charge, if it’s what he thought was best for the company.”