The Cowboy's Girl Next Door: A BWWM Cowboy Romance Page 7

  “How did he die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  The question hung between them, and for a moment Jess worried he’d gone too far, too quickly. She took a swig of the cider and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Jess was transfixed at the sight, her elegant movements making a gesture his mother would have chastised in him, seem as natural and right as breathing.

  “The doctors said it was his liver, his kidneys,” she said flatly, “but he said it was ‘the city.’ Typical story: country boy moves to the big city, gets caught up in things he shouldn’t. Hard drinking, some drugs. He always said my mom saved him from that.”

  She took another drink, finishing the bottle. “They met at a church social, and she saw something in him: something real, grounded, even with all the fake stuff he was spouting to fit in.” She leaned back against the tree and pulled her knees to her chest. “He lived a long life, longer than he would have if she hadn’t met him. I’m thankful for that, and Heart’s Home.”

  Jess was puzzled. “Did he buy the ranch?”

  Claire shook her head. “Yes and no. He wasn’t rich, but he was smart with money, well, once he stopped drinking. He and my mom worked hard for everything they had, and he always put a little aside for me. He cleaned offices at night at an investment firm, got to know the brokers who worked late, asked for their advice about growing his money. Made sure my mom would be comfortable after he died and left the rest to me.”

  She turned her eyes toward the sky, marveling at the patches of blue peeking through the leaves on the tree. “That’s how I could buy Heart’s Home outright. Would’ve taken me years otherwise.”

  Jess took another bottle from the cooler and offered it to her. She accepted and drank deep, then rummaged through one of the bags to pull out a handful of berries. She extended her hand to Jess. A shiver ran up her arm when he took the fruit, his fingertips lightly brushing her palm. She smiled at the handsome rancher.

  “What about you? Your mom?”

  Jess looked down and cleared his throat. “Cancer. I was ten, and it happened so fast. She just got real sick, and they wanted to do chemo, but she refused, saying she’d rather not spend her last days hairless and puking her guts up.”

  He moved to sit next to Claire against the tree, almost close enough for their arms to touch, seeking some small comfort in just being near someone. “I understand it now, but back then, I thought she should have held on, just for a little while longer.” His voice broke as he finished. Instinctively, Claire took his hand in hers.

  He kept talking, the urge to share his history too strong to shake off. “My dad was around a lot longer, though. He was devastated after she died, but we Hardys, we carry on, he’d say, and that’s what he did. Raised me and Lacey the way she’d have wanted, never went back on a promise to her about how things should be done on the ranch. He was a stubborn man, though, and that’s what killed him in the end.”

  He squeezed Claire’s hand for strength, and was grateful for the strong squeeze she gave him back. “Everybody told him that horse couldn’t be broken, but he wouldn’t have it. Almost did it, too, but he tried to ride him too soon, and the horse threw him right into a post.”

  Jess was crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks. He never talked to anyone about that day, about what it had meant to watch his strong father so weak in the hospital, life ebbing from his body. That was the day, he’d always thought, the day when he’d become the man he needed to be, to carry on the family legacy.

  Claire continued to hold tight to his hand while she fished a small white handkerchief from her back pocket. She shifted to face him and gently wiped the tears from his face, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  He lifted his hand to hers and held it against his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff from the tears. He gave her palm a gentle kiss, then released both her hands. “We’d better get back. It’s getting late.”

  He rode with her as far as the gate separating the ranches and thanked her for the afternoon ride. “Come for supper tomorrow,” he added, “and bring your Mom. Lacey’s cobbler is to die for!”

  “Will do,” she said, “and thanks to you, too, for sharing your orchard with me.”

  “My pleasure, my lady.” He turned his horse and rode for his stables.

  Claire dismounted to open the gate and lead Thalia through. Her legs were wobbly, her stomach a flutter, not from the riding, but from his deep voice, his piercing eyes, from the accumulated weight their interaction had now added to the name he seemed to have given her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be his or anyone’s lady, but she found herself more open to the name with each passing moment.

  Chapter 9

  Jess was pleased to see Claire out at the barn when he arrived the next morning. She was standing next to an ancient pickup truck, the bed filled with coolers and containers of hot coffee, cool water, and more of Carmen’s sweet tea. They greeted each other warmly but awkwardly, not knowing whether to hug their hello or shake hands. Jess settled for the latter, and was amazed to watch as Claire took a pair of work gloves and a hard hat from the cab of the pickup. “You doing something dangerous today?”

  “Doesn’t seem right for me to skip out on this barn raising,” she laughed. “Besides, I need to make sure that things are done on time and under budget.”

  “Don’t know why you’re worried about that, seeing as how I’m paying for it,” he quipped. They helped themselves to coffee and some fresh biscuits and talked about Claire’s plans for the barn as they waited for the crew to arrive.

  “So,” Claire said, “the way I see it, I need to diversify to make this ranch as profitable as possible. That’s what the addition to the barn is for: goats, primarily, for milk, meat, and cheese, and some chickens, a milking cow or two.”

  “Sounds more like homesteading,” he said as he chewed, comfortable enough around this woman who was just as at home in a polished black suit as a pair of worn jeans. “Not sure where I’m seeing the diversification.”

  “The goats, to start. Folks in Atlanta and other cities will pay a lot of money for soaps made of their milk and fresh cheese. If I can get that going well enough, I’ll look into keeping sheep. Fiber seems to be a pretty stable market right now, especially if the land is green.”

  Oh, she was smart and creative and caring and beautiful. He wanted her more than anything, more than Bar None and a million Arabians. A small crumb of biscuit clung to the corner of her mouth. Jess placed his hand under her chin and gently brushed it away with his thumb. He could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. “Green is good,” he murmured. Her pulse beat against his fingertips. She held him in her gaze, lips slightly parted as if she were about to kiss the thumb he was brushing so near her mouth.

  The sound of the crew’s arrival broke the spell, and his hand fell away from her face before his eyes did. He smiled and turned to walk away.

  Soon they were deep in the hard work of pulling down the old barn. Jess was amazed at Claire’s determination to be as active as she could throughout the process -- pulling nails, stripping off rotten boards, and piling up usable pieces of wood to be recycled. From time to time, their work brought their bodies close, and he took every opportunity to be near her.

  At lunch, they sat across from each other, stealing secretive glances and sharing knowing smiles as the crew members told tall tales of their building exploits, Big Hank, the tallest tale teller of all. When the work was done for the day, there was nothing left but the base structure, and Claire was aching for a nice hot bath.

  “Still coming for supper tonight?” Jess asked, his eyes hopeful. He knew she was exhausted, but he wanted to, needed to, see her, however he could.

  Claire nodded slowly. “I’ll be alright after I get a quick bath,” she said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there.” She reached out and patted his upper arm, then got in the pickup and drove back to the house.

  Carmen was already bustling about the kitchen
. She decided that they needed to return the favor that was the pie, and she was baking walnut chocolate chip cookies to take over as reciprocation. Her efforts didn’t distract her enough, though, to notice the lightness surrounding her daughter as she entered. Tired as she ought to be from the day’s work, Claire seemed to be walking on air.

  “Good day at the barn?” she asked.

  “Mmhmm,” Claire responded. She picked up an apple from the bowl on the counter and bit into it.

  “Any particular reason why it was so good?” Carmen pressed.

  Claire sighed deeply. “If you want to know something, Mom, just ask.”

  Carmen put the pan of cookies she’d taken from the oven on a rack to cool. “OK. Have you made peace with your handsome new neighbor yet? Or are you still raking him over the coals for the crime of keeping horses next to yours?”

  Claire rolled her eyes at her mother’s question, but she answered all the same. “We’ve made peace. He’s a nice man, and there’s no reason for us to have a grudge between us. Now, I’m going upstairs and get ready for supper. No more questions.”

  Had she looked back, she’d have seen the satisfied smile on Carmen’s face. Kyle had done a number on her baby girl, and she’d been fearful that Claire would miss out on other, better opportunities. She was finally starting to think that her fears were unfounded, and she hummed as she put the rest of the cookies into the oven to bake.

  Claire emptied a capful of vanilla scented soap into the tub. The fragrance soothed her immediately, and she was quick to put up her hair, disrobe, and climb in. She wanted to wash her hair, but it would take too long to dry before dinner, so she resolved to wear it up and neat. She rested her head on the bath pillow and closed her eyes.

  She could still feel his thumb at the corner of her mouth, his fingers gently lifting her chin. He was attractive, no doubt about it, but there was more to him than that. What she’d thought was arrogance at first seemed more like the product of just being too alone for too long.

  Watching him with the crew, she couldn’t help but notice how he was somehow apart from them. It wasn’t class that separated them; it was experience. Jess seemed unwilling or unable to join in with their stories of conquests with the local girls.

  Between that and his emotional outburst in the orchard, she was starting to see him as less a man of the world and more a man of the ranch, someone whose devotion to land and family had kept him from growing too hard or coarse.

  No, she couldn’t resist the appeal of the man, couldn’t deny that he was seeping into her consciousness, and that she wanted to know more about what made him tick. “No,” she thought abruptly. “Too soon, too fast. Keep it together, girl.” She sprang from the tub, toweled off, and got ready for dinner.

  They took Claire’s car to Bar None and found the family, plus Jasper, seated on the big front porch enjoying the evening air. Carmen was introduced to everyone, and Claire sat next to Cella to talk about her website while Lacey poured everyone a glass of mint tea.

  Chatter was lively, and the cicadas were hard-pressed to get their voices heard over the laughter as Jess shared a few tall tales of his own from the day’s work on the barn.

  The camaraderie continued at the dinner table and while they had coffee and Lacey’s exquisite cobbler for dessert. Claire noted that Jasper seemed a little too excited about the dish, though, and she made a mental note to ask Jess about his manager’s intentions when they had a moment alone. Carmen’s cookies were well received, and everyone was able to find a little bit more room in their full tummies to enjoy one of the rich chocolate treats.

  As they prepared to leave, Jess maneuvered Claire into the small hallway off the foyer. “Can I walk you home?” he asked. “Jasper will take your Mom home, make sure she’s safe.” He dipped his head, almost bashful at his eagerness. “I just thought we could talk a little more, that’s all.”

  “That would be great,” she replied. His broad smile was the best gift he could give her. They quickly made arrangements for Jasper to drive Carmen home, and Claire noted the glances her mother exchanged with Lacey as they said their goodbyes. She and Jess offered to help with cleanup, but Lacey shooed them out of the kitchen in a hurry.

  As soon as they were away from Lacey’s watchful eye, Jess spoke. “You look beautiful tonight. Hard work and that dress suit you.”

  She swatted playfully at his arm, but thanked him all the same. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Hardy.”

  “Jess. Please call me Jess.” The earnestness in his voice seemed out of place for such a simple request, and her heart fluttered.

  “You clean up pretty well, Jess.” As they neared a small flower garden, she added, “Will you take my hand?”

  “Yes, Claire.” In his mind, he added For as long as you want.

  The only sounds were from the cicadas as they walked hand in hand among the flowers. She thought about how well their hands fit, his cradling hers with such gentle strength that she felt nothing could ever go wrong, nothing could hurt her, not as long as he was near. She let him lead her to a semicircular stone bench ringed by a blaze of fuchsia azaleas. They sat close and held hands and stared at the setting sun.

  Claire’s heart was pounding, her skin flushed. “This is too fast,” she whispered, hoping he’d disagree with her, that somehow he would know that something special was here, too big to ignore.

  “Is it?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. “How long does it take to know what you want? I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen when I brought you that pie almost two weeks ago, and you’ve just gotten more beautiful to me since then.” He raised her hand and kissed it gently. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he sighed, “but I’ll stop if you say the word.”

  Claire considered his words, struggled against her own feelings. Was she ready to take a leap, knowing what lay ahead for her? What if they started something that ended up ruining the tentative peace they’d started to forge? But what if, she thought, this is what was meant to be?

  She cupped his cheek with her free hand and brought him closer. “I don’t know what’s happening here, either,” she murmured, “but I think we should find out.”

  She leaned her face close to his and only paused a moment before closing her eyes and the space between them. She kissed him.

  Her kisses were soft, a gentle rain before a coming storm, and Jess wasted no time getting her into his arms. He pulled her to him, draping her legs across his as they sat on the bench, finally losing themselves in the pull of each other. He couldn’t get enough of her, her mouth, her tongue, the curve of her jaw, the nape of her neck.

  Claire was no less eager, finally giving in to the demands of her body and soul. So driven to make the right choices, she fully gave herself over to this one without caring about the outcome, the past all but forgotten in the safety of Jess’s arms. She gasped as his tongue played at her neck, winding her fingers into his thick dark hair and she pressed him closer. “Please,” she whispered, the urgency in her voice only surprising her for an instant. He was magnetic, solid and quiet and strong, a force she could no longer resist.

  He pulled her tight and gave her a soul-wrenching kiss. She could feel his desire; feel him almost shaking from it as he worked to bring himself under control. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes, his hand stroking her cheek, his fingers teasing a loose curl. With a deep sigh and a huge smile, he rose and extended his hand to help her up. “It’s late, my lady, and we have lots to do in the morning. Time for me to walk you home.”

  The next few days were torture for Jess. Sure, the torture was sweet, but that didn’t make it any less painful. They worked side-by-side whenever possible, sharing childhood stories and critiquing each other’s work on the barn. The old structure was now demolished and the framing for the new one begun, and Claire constantly surprised him with her strength and willingness to do whatever needed doing.

  His favorite parts were the times she held boards
for him to nail, as they gave him an opportunity to get close enough to press into her and steal a kiss along her neck. Sometimes she’d give him a little wiggle, prompting him to remind her that it was her slender fingers in danger, not his, should his hammer miss.

  No one on the crew said a word, but everyone could see that Jess Hardy, long thought to be a bachelor forever, had fallen hard for this woman from the big city. His usual quiet, thoughtful reserve melted away at the sight of her. They approved, too; Claire might be a woman, but she was a damn hard worker, and that made her alright to everyone she met.

  She was a shrewd businesswoman, too, her eye never missing a bit of waste, her mind rapidly calculating cost differences as contractors went over various options. She might be from the city, but she was clearly in her element on the ranch, and talk began to circulate in the town about the newcomer who was determined to make a success of Heart’s Home.

  They had dinner together every evening at one house or the other, the two families fast becoming good friends. Claire looked forward to the walks they took after dinner, and not just one member of the two households noted that the two new lovers seemed to be rushing through their meals.