Читать книгу Riding Home - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 12

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ALTHOUGH IT WASN’T quite five-thirty, Jeannette came downstairs to wait for Zach in the Bunk and Grub’s parlor. Usually someone was in there reading or knitting or texting, but the room was empty. Then she remembered that the other guests were probably gathering on the back porch for the B and B’s scheduled happy hour.

She’d attended that event the previous night and had enjoyed herself until she’d received a text from work. Then she’d gone back to her room so she could straighten out an issue at the office, and by the time she’d finished, happy hour had ended. The porch had been deserted.

For a little while, though, she’d been a welcome part of a social occasion. The guests were all from someplace else so no one knew that she was persona non grata in Shoshone. She could go back there now, reconnect with those nice people and have some wine while she waited for Zach. The young woman at the reception desk near the front door could come and get her when he arrived.

But even though that was a pleasant idea, she’d rather stay here and watch for him. She didn’t care if she looked eager for the trip to Jackson and the chance to be with him again. She was eager. He was her new friend.

In addition to that, he was a beautiful man. At first glance she’d noticed his broad shoulders and lean hips. She’d registered his confident stance. But when he’d moved closer she’d been captivated by the expression in his cloud-gray eyes. His Stetson had shaded his face slightly, but shade couldn’t mute the intelligence and compassion in those eyes.

Sure, male appreciation had flickered in his gaze. That was fine. She wouldn’t complain about getting that look, which hadn’t been sleazy in the least. But it was his sincere compliment that had blown her away. His empathy for her situation was greater than she’d felt from anyone since she’d arrived. Much as she understood everyone’s reaction to her, she’d desperately needed someone like Zach to show up.

Bolstered by his understanding and his praise of her courage, she’d managed to walk back into the ranch house with her head high. She’d apologized for her clumsiness and inexperience in the kitchen. She’d apologized specifically to Cassidy for the chocolate smeared on the hardwood floors in both the hall and the living room.

Had it still been there, she would have gotten down on her hands and knees and cleaned it up herself. But the chocolate had been gone—no doubt someone had seen the chaos she’d left in her wake and reported it to Cassidy.

Jeannette didn’t want to think about the comments that must have flown around as the floor was cleaned. Yet when she’d come back into the kitchen, everyone had been perfectly nice to her, including Cassidy. She gave them all credit for that.

But there hadn’t been a lot of warmth coming her way, and she’d caught a few exchanged glances that had made her stomach twist. Maybe if she’d gotten to know them prior to the Christmas Eve drama, this situation wouldn’t be so awkward. But during her engagement to Regan, she’d only met his parents. There hadn’t been time to fly out to Jackson Hole to see his sisters.

Now they were obviously only being nice for Regan’s sake, which was admirable. But if they could somehow manage to see past her awful mistake and get to know and like her as a person... No, that was probably asking way too much under the circumstances. She couldn’t help longing for it, though.

Before she’d left the kitchen, she’d mentioned the clothes issue and had acknowledged that hers weren’t suited to the weekend’s activities. She’d told them about the planned shopping trip with Zach, which had caused a few more exchanged glances.

She hoped that eighteen-year-old Cassidy didn’t have a crush on Zach. Jeannette didn’t want her to be jealous on top of everything else. Cassidy was the only single woman on the ranch, but Zach was too old for her. Jeannette wasn’t good with ages, but the crinkles at the corners of his amazing eyes put him at somewhere past thirty.

And that made him the perfect age for her, since she’d just hit the big three-oh this year. Not that she had any business comparing ages as if they had a future together. He seemed very happy to be a ranch hand in Wyoming living in his Airstream. She was very happy as an attorney in Virginia.

But that hadn’t kept her from fantasizing about him taking his solar shower in front of God and everybody. Or replaying his kind words to her right before she’d left the barn. In her fantasy they ended the moment with a kiss instead of a civilized handshake.

She was intensely grateful for his encouragement and help, and their relationship would probably only be a platonic one, but he was very handsome. She’d been doing penance for her sins ever since she and Drake had admitted they weren’t right for each other. She hadn’t gone on a date since, which had been almost eight months.

Maybe she could be forgiven for having inappropriate thoughts about Zach. She wondered if his sensitive behavior had nudged her libido because it telegraphed his potential as a wonderful lover. It was a logical conclusion.

Any man who’d take the time to listen to a woman’s troubles and offer to help her solve them would likely also be committed to giving his sexual partner pleasure. He would employ all the skills he possessed in that endeavor. He wouldn’t rest until she was utterly and completely satisfied.

Oh, Lord. That concept made her hot. She got up from the sofa and began to pace the small parlor. She’d better rein in her fantasies before he arrived because a man like him would sense her reaction. That would be plain embarrassing.

The receptionist, a slim brunette, left her desk and walked into the parlor. “Happy hour is about to start,” she said. “Would you like a glass of wine while you wait? I can bring it to you.”

“No, thanks. But that’s very sweet.” Jeannette estimated the girl was about Cassidy’s age and conscientious about her job.

“I like your outfit.”

“Thank you.” Jeannette had chosen the least dressy combination she’d brought, but even so the ankle pants were beige linen and the black blouse was silk. At least she’d tied the shirttails at the waist in a faux casual way. Her black Ferragamo mules added a good three inches to her height. She’d left off the bangle bracelets and wore the smallest gold hoops she owned. “I’m afraid my clothes don’t fit in very well, though.”

“They would if you were staying in Jackson. It’s more cosmopolitan there. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some wine? When Pam’s not here, it’s my job to make sure the guests are happy.”

“She’s not?” Jeannette had thought the B and B owner would be on the back porch serving drinks as she had the night before.

“She’s spending the night with her husband. Good thing I’m over twenty-one so I can serve liquor.” The girl smiled.

“Where’s her husband?” Vaguely Jeannette remembered a ring on Pam Mulholland’s left hand, but she hadn’t seen a husband around.

“Over at the Last Chance. He’s the foreman there. Emmett Sterling.”

“I did not know about that.”

“Some people think it’s strange because she didn’t take his name and they each kept their own place, but I think it’s cool. Well, I’d better head back there before they get restless.” With a grin, she whirled around and left the parlor.

No sooner had she disappeared than Zach walked in the front door. For a brief moment he paused to gaze at her, and the air between them seemed to crackle. Damn, he looked good—clean white Western shirt, snug jeans, polished boots and a light gray Stetson pulled low over his eyes.

She took a deep breath and drew in the spicy scent of his cologne. A little spot of dried blood on his chin indicated that he’d nicked himself while shaving. How endearing. Maybe he was a little bit excited about this shopping excursion, too.

He cleared his throat. “You look great.”

“For a greenhorn.” She picked up her black cloth shoulder bag from the sofa.

“No, just plain great.” He walked into the parlor. “I almost hate to take you shopping for jeans when what you have on suits you so well.”

“But as we discussed, it’s impractical for a ranch barbeque. And although no one’s offered to take me out on a horse, I couldn’t ride like this, either. Besides...I want to fit in.”

“Then let’s go.” He ushered her through the front door and down the sidewalk to his truck, which turned out to be muscular, black and dusty. “I would apologize for the state of my truck, but it’s always like this. Black is the wrong color if you live at the end of a dirt road.”

“But aren’t dirt roads inevitable if you work on a ranch?”

“As it turns out, yes. I didn’t take that into consideration when I bought this baby.” He walked with her to the passenger side and opened the door. “At least the inside’s clean.”

“Nice.” The smell of new leather greeted her as she climbed in and buckled up. The seat rivaled the comfort of her Mercedes back home. He’d splurged on this vehicle, and recently, too. She didn’t know how much ranch hands made these days, but the job must pay better than she thought or maybe he’d come in to some money. Or he could be up to his ears in debt.

He settled himself behind the wheel, closed his door and started the engine. The truck’s deep-throated rumble was decidedly masculine. So was the man sitting next to her, and his cologne tantalized her even more in the enclosed space of the air-conditioned cab.

She tried to remember the last time she’d ridden in a truck. Even though her parents raised horses, the valuable Thoroughbreds were always transported by professionals in semis. Her family drove luxury cars. Even if she had been a passenger in a pickup a time or two, she certainly hadn’t been chauffeured by a Stetson-wearing cowboy.

When she’d imagined this trip to Jackson, she hadn’t anticipated that Zach’s truck would provide a sensually rewarding experience. She’d assumed he’d have an ordinary truck, maybe one with some rattles and worn upholstery. Instead they cruised down the highway effortlessly.

He glanced at her. “How did things go in the house when you went back?”

“Fine. No one’s ever been rude to me, but I can tell they’re only being nice because they’re decent people and they love Regan. So do I, but I doubt they’d believe me if I said so.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’re still in love with him?”

“Not in love, but I love him as a friend.”

“Oh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I’m not sure I understand how that works.”

“You’ve never had a close woman friend, someone you loved but weren’t in love with?”

“I’d have to think about that. My close relationships with women always seem to have a sexual undertone. Then when we act on that, we have an affair, and after it ends, we’re usually not that close anymore.”

She wasn’t surprised that he ended up in bed with his women friends. One look at his classic profile as he drove this massive truck got her engines running. His hair was a soft brown with enough curl to curve around his ears. She even liked the shape of those ears. Women would naturally want to get their hands on this guy.

“That’s the way it often goes,” she said. “I’m the last person to brag about my relationship skills. I used to be so proud of my situation with Regan and Drake. I had love and sex with Regan and cherished Drake as a close friend. But a bottle of wine and general dissatisfaction with the status quo ruined everything.”

“If you could go back and change that, would you?”

“Good question.” She settled into her comfy leather seat. “If you’d asked me that last January, I would have said yes, in a heartbeat. But now I realize the status quo wasn’t right, and goin’ to bed with Drake was probably my subconscious effort to change it. Regan and I didn’t have the bone-deep passion and commitment that would carry us through fifty or sixty years of marriage.”

“Did you have it with Drake?”

“God, no!” She laughed at the thought. Talking about this with someone who wouldn’t judge was a huge relief. “He had his own reasons for shaking things up, but an undying love for me wasn’t one of them.”

“He told you that?”

“More or less. I admitted the same thing to him. We were a sorry pair, all right. I should have broken up with Regan instead of getting smashed and having sex with his best friend. But wedding plans have a life of their own. My parents had made a sizable, nonrefundable down payment on the venue. The wedding party had been chosen, and the dresses and tuxes had been ordered.”

“You felt trapped.”

“Yes.” She heard something in his voice. “From the way you said that, I’m guessing you know what that’s like.”

“Absolutely.”

“Did you almost marry the wrong person, too?” That would explain his empathetic response.

“Nope. But I know what it feels like to be going down a road and realize it’s the wrong one, but you can’t get a handle on how to change it.”

“How so?”

He smiled. “Not now. I want to hear your story.”

She made a note to ask later. “There’s not much more to tell. Drake and I caused a scandal. My folks pretend they’ve forgiven me, but they haven’t. I think Regan has, though. And Drake, Regan and I are almost back to normal. I wish Regan’s extended family could let it go, but...they may not. I’ll have to live with that.”

“I predict they’ll warm up.”

“If I wear different clothes?”

“Won’t hurt.”

“I found out something right before you picked me up. I thought by staying at the Bunk and Grub, I’d escaped the Chance family’s influence.”

He looked over at her. “You didn’t know that Pam was married to Emmett?”

“Why would I? They don’t even live together!”

“Which is apparently how they like it. They married late in life, so they each need their space, except for...well, the obvious.”

“Right.” And here they were focusing once again on the topic of sex. The cab was roomy, but not so big that she didn’t feel his energy across the console. He was a potent guy.

“Pam is also Nick Chance’s aunt.”

“She is?” Jeannette sighed. “And Regan joined Nick’s veterinary practice when he moved out here, so that explains why Pam has been friendly and polite, but never warm. I thought she was simply being professional, but no, she’s part of Team Chance. Oh, well.”

“What about Drake? You shouldn’t be dealing with this alone. Is he getting the cold shoulder, too?”

“Oh, probably to some extent, but he’s been here longer, and now he’s involved with Tracy, who’s very popular, I gather. They may be giving him a pass because Tracy likes him.” Her phone chirped, indicating she had a text. “Will you excuse me a minute? I should get that. It might be from work.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Oh, yeah. My assistant is dedicated.”

“By all means, see what’s up.”

Jeannette checked her phone, hoping for good news from Erin, her paralegal assistant. Instead Erin confirmed that they had a big hole in their research on the current case. She promised to work through the weekend to plug that hole, which made Jeannette feel guilty. She should be there helping Erin dig up the information they needed to build a solid defense.

But she wasn’t there, and so all she could do was text her sincere thanks for Erin’s effort. With a sigh, she put her phone back in her purse. Maybe she should change her flight and go back on Sunday, after all.

“Problems?”

“I was afraid we hadn’t thoroughly researched a contract dispute, and sure enough, we haven’t. The client expects an open-and-shut case, but at this point, there’s no guarantee that we’ll prevail.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Why?”

“I might be able to help.”

She was touched, but if he made his living as a cowhand, he wouldn’t be of much use in this capacity. She didn’t want to insult him, though. “I can describe the case, and I appreciate your offer, but I’m not sure that you—”

“I may not be able to help considering that you’re in Virginia and every state is different. But it’s worth a shot. Contract law has similarities all over the country.”

“Yes, but I still don’t think—”

“Look, nobody besides Jack knows this, and I’d rather not broadcast it if you don’t mind, but...I was an entertainment lawyer in Hollywood for thirteen years. Contract law is my specialty.”

She stared at him. “Well, that sure as hell explains this fancy truck.”