Читать книгу The Prince's Cowgirl Bride - Brenda Harlen, Brenda Harlen - Страница 7

Two years later…

Jewel Callahan slid onto a stool at the counter at the Halfway Café and scowled at the slim back of the blond woman who was grinding beans for a fresh pot of coffee. Crystal Vasicek was the proprietor of the popular little café and the creator of the most amazingly decadent desserts in all of West Virginia—and probably the other forty-nine states, too.

Jewel waited for the grinder to shut off before she spoke. “It’s your fault, you know.”

Crystal dumped the grounds into the waiting basket and slid it into place, then punched the button to start the coffee brewing before she turned. “That’s quite an accusation coming from the woman who’s always so quick to assume responsibility for everyone else’s troubles.” Her pretty blue eyes sparkled with a combination of amusement and curiosity. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” Jewel told her.

“Okay—” Crystal picked up a pot of coffee that had finished brewing and poured her sister a cup “—what didn’t I do?”

“Marry Russ.”

Crystal raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “He never asked.”

“He might have.” Jewel dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into her cup. “If you hadn’t run off and married Simon.”

“Forgive me for falling in love and not anticipating how that event might somehow interfere with your plans.”

“You always were the type to leap without looking.”

“And you always exercised enough caution for both of us,” Crystal replied evenly.

Because she’d wanted to protect her sister, to shield her from the expectations—and the disappointments—that were inherent in being a daughter of Jack Callahan. After all, she’d had half a dozen years of experience with that before Crystal came along.

“We were talking about Russ,” Jewel reminded her.

“What about Russ?”

“He’s leaving.”

“Oh.”

There was a wealth of understanding in that single syllable.

Jewel’s throat was suddenly tight, making it difficult for her to speak. And what more could she say, anyway?

Crystal went to the bakery display and pulled out a milehigh chocolate cake, then cut a thick wedge and put it on a plate with a fork. Jewel managed a smile as her sister nudged it across the counter toward her. Crystal believed that chocolate was a cure-all for every one of life’s problems, and judging by the seven layers of moist cake and creamy icing she’d just set in front of Jewel, she understood the magnitude of this one.

Russ Granger had worked at the Callahan Thoroughbred Center for the last ten years, but he’d been Jewel’s friend a lot longer than that, and she couldn’t help but be shocked by his defection. He wasn’t just leaving his job—he was leaving her. He was the only man she’d ever felt she could truly count on, and now he was moving on.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Crystal came around to sit next to her sister at the counter. “Why is he leaving?”

Jewel picked up the fork and dipped the tines into the decadent dark icing. “Because Riley got some big recording contract and he wants to go on tour with her.”

“She was wasting her talent singing at The Mustang,” Crystal said gently.

Jewel popped a bite of cake into her mouth, but even the rich flavor didn’t lift her spirits. “I should have guessed something like this would happen,” she admitted. “As soon as he told me he was going to propose to Riley, I should have known. But I was so happy for him that I didn’t think about what it might mean for CTC. I certainly didn’t think he’d take off in the middle of the season.”

“He’s leaving soon, then?”

“The end of next week. He’s been working closely with Darrell over the past several years and assured me that he’s more than ready to take over his duties, but—” she sighed and dug into the cake again “—I can’t imagine how I’ll get through the season without him.”

“You will,” Crystal said confidently. “Because there isn’t anything you can’t do if you put your mind to it.”

Jewel had always prided herself on being capable and independent, able to handle anything and everything on her own. And it was a good thing, too, because that was how she always ended up—on her own.

“Jack Callahan might have built CTC, but the only reason it’s one of the top training facilities in the state today is because of you,” Crystal said, then smiled wryly. “And in spite of me. Lord knows, I never had any interest in staying on the farm or working with the horses.”

“You carved your own path.” Jewel was proud of her sister’s success, and she still got a kick out of the fact that Crystal’s spectacular desserts were available not just at the little café where she’d first started baking but in some of the area’s trendiest and most exclusive restaurants. “Sometimes I wonder why I couldn’t have wanted something else more than I wanted the farm.”

“You were a champion barrel racer for three years running,” Crystal reminded her.

She smiled, though her memories of that time in her life were more bitter than sweet. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“It was what inspired me to do my own thing, regardless of what Jack wanted.”

“I would have done anything he wanted,” Jewel admitted. Even now, she wasn’t sure why she’d always tried so hard to please him, she only knew that she’d never succeeded. Nothing she’d ever done was good enough for Jack Callahan.

“And did,” her sister reminded her. “Including giving up your own life to come home when he asked you to.”

He hadn’t really asked but demanded, as both sisters knew was his way. But the truth was, six years on the rodeo circuit had disillusioned Jewel about a lot of things, and she’d been more than ready to return to Alliston, West Virginia. Her father’s heart attack had been both her incentive and her excuse to finally do so and, her difficulties with him aside, she hadn’t ever regretted that decision.

She had become his willing assistant, as eager to learn as she was to demonstrate what she already knew, confident that he would learn to trust in her abilities and eventually grant her more authority. But Jack Callahan had continued to hold the reins of the business in his tightly clenched fist until—many years later—they’d finally been pried from his cold, dead fingers.

Jewel and Crystal had stood side by side at his funeral, his daughters from two separate marriages, both sisters painfully aware that they’d been neither wanted nor loved by their father. And more than they’d mourned his death, they’d mourned the distance between them that he’d never tried to breach.

“My life was always here,” Jewel finally responded to her sister’s comment. “Even when I thought it wasn’t.”

Crystal touched a hand to her arm. “Maybe the problem isn’t that Russ is leaving, but that he found someone and you haven’t.”

Jewel pushed the half-eaten cake away. “Not this again.”

“Honey, you’re too young to have resigned yourself to being alone.”

“Resigned suggests that I’m settling for less than I want, and I’m not. I’m happy with my life.”

“You’re happy being alone?”

“I’m hardly alone.”

“The horses don’t count,” her sister said dryly.

“At least they don’t hog the bed—or the remote.”

“Well, I can’t dispute that Simon does both of those things,” Crystal said, then a slow smile curved her lips. “But he does other things that more than even the scales—and I’m not talking about taking out the garbage.”

Jewel got up and went around the counter to grab the coffeepot for a refill. “You lucked out with Simon,” she admitted.

“Then you’re not really mad that I didn’t wait around for Russ to propose?”

She sighed. “How can I be mad when you’re so happy?”

“I am happy,” Crystal said. “Happier than I ever could have imagined.”

Jewel knew the feeling. She’d experienced that same euphoria of love—and the complete devastation of losing the man she’d thought she would love forever. She only hoped her sister would never have to know that kind of pain, that her life would always be wonderful, that Simon would always love her as much as he did now.

As if following the path of her thoughts, Crystal reached out and squeezed her hand. “Someday your prince will come.”

Before Jewel could respond, the jingle of the bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer.

Crystal glanced over, then let out a low whistle.

“Don’t look now,” she told her sister. “But I think he just walked in the door.”

Jewel picked up her cup, sipped.

Crystal frowned at the lack of response.

“You told me not to look,” Jewel reminded her.

“Since when do you listen to me?”

She shrugged. “Since the last prince turned into a frog.”

Crystal picked up a menu and fanned herself with it. “Six-two, I’d guess. Dark hair, darker eyes. Sinfully sexy. And—” she glanced pointedly at her sister and smiled “—flying solo.”

Her curiosity undeniably piqued by the description, Jewel twisted in her stool—and nearly slid right off of it and onto the floor.

For once, Crystal hadn’t exaggerated. The man hovering just inside the door had short, neatly cropped hair, dark slashing brows over espresso-covered eyes, a strong jaw, straight nose, slashing cheekbones and a beautifully sculpted mouth that brought to mind all kinds of wicked fantasies. His olive-toned skin and exotic looks suggested some kind of Mediterranean heritage that made her think of sultry nights and hotter passions, and the punch of lust that hit low in her belly left Jewel almost breathless.

No, her sister definitely hadn’t exaggerated. But what she’d neglected to include in her description was “young.” Way too young. Probably younger than Crystal even. Definitely too young to make a thirty-four-year-old woman weak in the knees and hot everywhere else.

His gaze moved around the room and collided with hers. Then those beautiful lips slowly curved, and her heart pounded hard against her chest as if it was trying to break free in order to fall at his feet.

“Well, well, well,” Crystal said softly.

Jewel felt heat infuse her cheeks as she tore her gaze away from his hypnotic stare. Crystal smirked at her before turning her attention back to the new customer.

“Grab a seat anywhere you like,” she called out cheerily. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

“Thank you.” His voice was low and deep and as sexy as the rest of him.

“Mmm-mmm,” Crystal murmured her appreciation.

Jewel picked up her cup again and sipped before asking, “Weren’t we just talking about how happily married you are?”

“I am,” Crystal assured her. “But the ring on my finger hasn’t affected my eyesight and that is one exceptional specimen of masculinity.”

She could hardly deny the fact, nor would she make the mistake of agreeing with her sister aloud, so she only said, “A specimen probably waiting for a cup of coffee.”

“Oh. Right.” Crystal grinned and grabbed the pot.

Jewel concentrated on finishing her own cup while her sister chatted with her new customer. She couldn’t hear what was said, but the low timbre of his voice was enough to create shivers that danced up and down her spine. Crystal’s responding laughter bubbled over like a newly opened bottle of champagne, then his deeper chuckle joined in.

Jewel had always envied her sister’s ease with other people—her outgoing personality and easy charm, her natural warmth and friendliness. She’d always been more cautious and reserved than Crystal, and though she didn’t think anyone would accuse her of being unfriendly, she wasn’t often mistaken for warm and welcoming, either. She dealt with a lot of people in her business, not out of choice but necessity, and most of the time, she preferred the horses to their owners. Though lately, she’d been spending a little too much time up close and personal with certain aspects of the thoroughbred training business that she’d prefer to avoid, which reminded her of the other reason she’d come into town to see her sister today.

She waited while Crystal finished serving her “exceptional specimen” and checked on her other customers.

“In addition to Russ leaving, I’ve got Grady laid up with a broken leg so I’m short a stable hand,” she said when her sister returned to the counter. “Do you think Simon’s brother would be interested in a summer job again this year?”

Crystal tallied up a bill. “Ted’s in Europe with his girlfriend for the next couple of months.”

“Oh.” Jewel pushed her now empty cup aside. “Know anyone else who might be interested?”

“Most of the local college kids already have their summer jobs lined up.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to put an ad in the paper then.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t be more help,” Crystal said. “I know how much you hate interviewing people.”

“Actually the interviews don’t concern me as much as the possibility that it might be too late to find qualified help for the summer.”

“What kind of qualifications do you need to muck out stinky stalls?”

“Some experience working around animals would be helpful,” she said dryly.

“What kind of animals?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.

She whirled around and found herself face-to-chest with the hunky stranger and couldn’t help but notice how the polo shirt he wore stretched across impressive pectoral muscles. Cheeks hot, mouth dry, she lifted her gaze and found his eyes on her again.

Crystal offered profuse apologies as she refilled the cup in his hand.

“Not a problem,” he assured her, then shifted his attention back to Jewel and asked again, “What kind of animals?”

She drew in a breath and, along with it, his scent. Clean and sharp and as tempting as the rest of him.

“Horses,” she finally managed to respond to his question.

“Thoroughbred racehorses,” Crystal elaborated. “My sister runs one of the top training facilities in the state.”

Jewel’s quelling glance was met with a sweet smile.

“I’m Mac Delgado,” the man introduced himself. “I happen to know my way around horses and I’m looking for some short-term employment.”

Jewel only said, “And I don’t hire anyone without a recommendation,” and stepped away from the counter.

“I’ll let you know if I find any suitable candidates,” her sister called after her.

“Thanks, Crystal.” She didn’t turn back, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her as she made her way to the door.

He’d been dismissed—blatantly and unapologetically. It was a new experience for Mac Delgado—aka His Royal Highness Marcus Santiago, Prince of Tesoro del Mar—and not one he’d particularly enjoyed. She hadn’t even given him her name, and he was frowning over that fact as he watched her walk out, enjoying the quick strides of long, lean legs and the subtle sway of slim hips until the door of the café swung shut behind her.

A soft sigh drew his attention back to the young waitress with the friendly smile. Crystal, the other woman had called her.

“She really doesn’t mean to be rude,” Crystal said now.

“And yet, she has such an obvious talent for it.”

She smiled again, a little ruefully this time. “She’s got a lot on her mind right now.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, as if he didn’t have a hundred questions about the woman who’d walked out the door without so much as a backward glance in his direction. But he sat down on the stool she’d recently vacated as Crystal waved goodbye to an elderly couple as they headed out the door.

“So what brings you to Alliston?” she asked, turning her attention back to him.

“Road construction on the highway,” he admitted.

She smiled at that. “Where are you headed?”

“California eventually.”

“Driving?”

He nodded.

“You’ve got a long way to go.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” he told her.

“What’s in California?” she asked. “Friends? A job? A wife?”

He fought the smile that tugged at his lips in response to her not-so-subtle probing. “None of the above.”

“You have to give me more than that if you expect me to answer any questions about my sister.”

“What makes you think I have any questions about your sister?”

She lifted a brow. “Then you aren’t interested in seeing Jewel again?”

“Jewel?” he echoed, then realized it was her sister’s name, and an apt description for the woman with wildly sexy hair and eyes the color of a summer sky before a storm.

And then there were her lips, glossy and full and as perfectly shaped as a cupid’s bow. And her hair, miles of honeygold corkscrew curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. And—

He caught a glimpse of Crystal’s satisfied smile out of the corner of his eye and forced himself to sever the thought.

Her smile widened. “I believe you were telling me how much you weren’t interested in my sister.”

“Actually,” he said, “you were going to tell me where I could find her.”

Jewel was faxing her Help Wanted ad to the classifieds department at the local newspaper when the knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she said, her eyes never lifting from the machine where she was manually inserting pages because it had a tendency to chew the paper if she used the automatic feeder. She’d been meaning to take the machine in for service, but kept forgetting. With so many other tasks to deal with on a daily basis, those that didn’t directly impact the horses tended to get shifted to the bottom of the list and frequently forgotten.

The door creaked as it was pushed open, reminding her that oiling the hinges was another one of those tasks that she never seemed to get around to doing. On the other hand, she didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on her.

She fed the last page into the machine before turning around, and found herself looking at a pair of very broad shoulders—not covered in flannel or denim, as was usual around the stables, but a royal-blue polo shirt, complete with the embroidered logo of pony and rider on the left side. The shirt stretched over those shoulders, across a broad chest and tucked into a pair of belted jeans that fit nicely over narrow hips and long, muscular legs.

Her eyes shifted and discovered that the face was just as spectacular as the body, and not entirely unfamiliar.

It was the man from the café, and along with the sense of recognition came a quiver inside—a humming vibration that rippled from her center all the way to her fingertips and churned up everything in between. The sensation was both unexpected and unwelcome, and she fought against it as her gaze locked with his.

Amusement lurked in the depths of his dark eyes, as if he’d been aware of her perusal and wasn’t bothered or surprised by it.

He was probably used to women ogling him—a man who looked that good would have to be—but that didn’t excuse her own behavior. It had just been so long since Jewel had looked at a man and recognized him as such.

Around the stables, the men were her employees or customers, and over the past few years, she hadn’t had much of a life beyond the stables. Her instinctive reaction to this man’s arrival at the café had been proof of that. Her response now only reinforced that truth.

“Can I help you?” she asked, the politely neutral tone giving no hint of the hormones zinging around inside of her.

“Actually, I’m here to help you.” His warm, rich voice was as sensual as a caress and caused another quiver of sensation deep in her belly.

She mentally cursed her sister, certain that Crystal was somehow responsible for this man’s appearance here now.

“How do you think you can help me?” she asked cautiously.

“By taking the job you were talking about at the café.”

She looked him over again—had, in truth, not been able to take her eyes off of him—and shook her head. While she didn’t doubt that long, lean body was more than capable of the physical work she needed done, she did doubt that he’d ever done such physical labor. “I’m looking for someone to muck out stalls as well as groom and exercise my horses.”

“That’s what Crystal said,” he agreed.

Yep—her sweet but interfering little sister’s sticky fingerprints were all over this ambush.

“And you are?” she asked, vaguely recalling that he’d offered his name at the café but unable to remember what it was.

“Mac Delgado.”

Her father had taught her that she could learn a lot about a man from his handshake, so she moved forward to take his proffered hand, undeniably curious about this one. His grip was firm, strong and the contact of his palm against hers sent an unexpected jolt of heat through her.

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, as if he’d felt the jolt, too. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She disengaged her hand and lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. “I have to be honest, Mr. Delgado, you don’t look much like a stable hand.”

He shrugged. “I have a lot of experience with horses and I’m between jobs at the moment.”

She eyed him skeptically but gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Tell me about your experience.”

He sat, somehow owning the space rather than merely occupying it. There was an aura about him, a sense of command, as if he was accustomed to giving orders rather than taking them. It made her wonder again why he was really here, because she didn’t believe it was to muck out her stalls.

“I assume you’re asking about my experience with horses?” There was just the hint of a smile on his lips, and the gleam in those sinfully dark eyes suggested he was flirting with her.

She’d known guys like Mac Delgado before—guys who trusted their good looks and easy charm to get them what they wanted in life, whatever that might be. Jewel wasn’t going to fall for it, not this time, no matter how hard her heart pounded when he smiled at her.

Still, there was a part of her—a shallow, sex-deprived part—that was tempted to hire him just so she could have the pleasure of looking at him every day. Because she had no doubt that those muscles would ripple very nicely as he mucked out stalls—if he knew which end of a pitchfork to grab hold of. But hiring a man who obviously expected to get the job by offering little more than his name and a smile would be a mistake, and Jewel Callahan didn’t make mistakes. Not anymore and especially not when it came to the business that carried her name.

“Yes, Mr. Delgado. I was asking about your relevant job experience.”

He propped one foot onto the opposite knee, a casual pose that allowed her to picture him in Levi’s and flannel, rather than the designer threads he was wearing. “I grew up around horses,” he told her. “Even before I could walk, I was sitting on a pony.”

“That doesn’t prove you know the difference between a curry comb and a hoof pick,” she noted.

He shrugged again, and she couldn’t help but notice how his shirt moulded to the broad shoulders. “I’ve groomed more than a few horses, even helped train some of them.”

“Do you have references?”

“Give me a trial period,” he said. “A week to prove that I can do the job.”

“No references,” she concluded.

“I’m a hard worker.”

“This is a busy stable—”

“Three days,” he interrupted.

She shook her head with more than a little regret as she pushed her chair back from her desk. “I don’t have the time or the patience to train anyone.”

“Give me a chance—I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I might have been willing to give you that chance, if not for your hands.”

His brows lifted. “What’s wrong with my hands?”

“They lack the calluses of a man accustomed to physical labor.”

“I’ve spent the last few years at school,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t risk my life around animals who weigh more than six times as much as I do if I didn’t know I wasn’t capable.”

She leaned back in her chair. “At school where?”

“If I give the right answer, do I get the job?”

“You’re assuming there is a right answer.”

His smile was filled with confidence and charm, and she felt a distinctly feminine flutter in her belly. “Isn’t there?”

“No,” she said. “And no about the job.”

She might end up regretting her hasty decision if no one else responded to her ad, but she instinctively knew that hiring Mac Delgado would present a bigger risk than turning him away. Not just because his experience was unproven, but because of the way her heart raced whenever he was near.