Читать книгу The Texas Rancher's Vow - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 13

Chapter Four

Later the following afternoon, Jen took stock. The day had been blissfully quiet. Matt had gone off with the cowboys before dawn to move cattle. Emmett had attended a breakfast meeting of the local cattlemen’s club, and had other business scheduled after that. So it had been just Jen and the housekeeper, Luz, in the Triple B ranch house for most of the day.

Which of course had been for the best, Jen mused. No interruptions. No Matt barging in—or out—for hot kisses, or learning things about the lone Briscoe heir that she would rather not know.

Like the fact they’d both lost a parent in their early twenties, then been betrayed by someone they had trusted.

Not, Jen scolded herself firmly, that any of that mattered. She and Matt Briscoe were as different as night and day. And likely to stay that way, since he tried to control everything in his universe, and she tried to control nothing in hers…except her own reaction to things.

“So what do you think?” she asked Emmett, when he stopped in to check on her progress.

He looked at the twenty photos Jen had selected. All were displayed on the big library table. All had the potential to be turned into bronze sculptures.

“This is my favorite,” he said in a choked voice. He pointed to a particularly poignant photo of himself and his late wife, taken soon after they had married. Emmett and Margarite were riding side by side on big beautiful horses. Young, vital and exceptionally attractive, they were clad in casual Western riding attire, and seemed in sync emotionally and physically.

“Mine, too,” Jen murmured.

Mostly because Emmett and his new bride both looked so happy. And so immune to the life challenges to come…

“I’d like you to start with this one,” he continued, tearing up.

Jen turned away and gave him time to compose himself.

When she looked again, he was standing with both hands thrust in the pockets of his khaki trousers. Tears gone. No longer trembling.

“You’ve done a great job whittling it down,” he declared in a firm, authoritative voice.

Happy to hear that, Jen smiled at him. “Thank you.” She was going to enjoy working with Emmett on this commission.

“I like this one, too.” He pointed to a photo of Matt and he flanking his wife’s chair, at what appeared to be Matt’s high school graduation. All were smiling determinedly, but there was a sadness underlying the cheer on those faces, giving the moment special poignancy. Yet Jen had pulled it out anyway, because it was definitely a milestone moment for the family.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted any sculptures of your wife when she was sick.” Although Margarite was not seated in a wheelchair, Jen suspected that she had been using one at the time the photo was taken. Otherwise, she probably would have been standing with her husband and son.

“That was my initial response. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps,” Emmett said, “it’s time I embraced every aspect of my life. And hers.” He turned toward Jen. “Can you do all twenty of these photos? Turn them into sculptures?”

That was double his initial order!

Trying not to get ahead of themselves, Jen warned, “That would take at least a year and a half, if not more….”

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars per bronze, as long as I get a royalty on any copies that are sold.”

That ego again!

“Why don’t I do the first one—the one we decided on last evening—and see how happy you are with that before we go any further?” she proposed.

Emmett grinned, looking like his old self again. “Trying to raise the price on me?”

“Not at all.”

“Good thing,” Matt said, sauntering into the room. Ranch dust clung to his sweat-stained clothing. A touch of sunburn highlighted the handsome angles of his face. Jen figured he hadn’t shaved since the previous morning, which made the black scruff on his jaw all the more pronounced. And he smelled to high heaven, yet she was ridiculously glad to see him.

“’Cause I’d have something to say about that,” he continued in his lazy, provoking drawl.

“Good to see you, too,” Jen murmured, rolling her eyes. Not.

Ignoring his presence, she looked at Emmett and continued their conversation in a crisp, businesslike tone. “Everything that was shipped to me arrived by noon, but there are still some things I’m going to need for my stay. So if it’s okay, I’m going to call it quits for today and head into Laramie to do a little shopping and get some dinner.”

“We’d be happy to hold the evening meal for you,” Emmett said.

She lifted a hand. “No need for that.”

It was time to start setting limits with both father and son.

She smiled and gathered up the photos for further study.

Ignoring Matt’s intent appraisal, she headed for the door. “You all enjoy yourself this evening. And I’ll get started setting up a temporary sculpting studio tomorrow.”

* * *

FIVE HOURS LATER, Emmett said in a worried tone, “Jen should have been back by now.”

Matt looked up from his laptop computer. He’d been doing the ranch books. Or trying. Hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki trousers, Emmett had been pacing the front of the house, looking out the windows, for at least forty-five minutes now.

“Did she give anyone a time to expect her?”

“No. But a storm is brewing. And I don’t like the idea of her driving unfamiliar back roads in the dark and the pouring rain.”

Matt had been thinking the same thing.

Then cursed inwardly for allowing himself to worry. Jen Carson was not his problem.

Except when it came to keeping her from taking advantage of his father.

“I’m sure she has driven in rain before, Dad.”

“In the city. Where she probably knows the roads, and the location of all the low water crossings to avoid.”

He had a point there. “If she takes the farm-to-market road straight to town, she’ll be fine.”

“But she won’t be if she drives the shortest route, which is on the back roads. A lot of which are not well marked.” Emmett grabbed his hat off the coat tree in the front hall and planted it on his head. “I’m going to go out and look for her.”

Matt studied his father’s wan complexion. Although his dad was loath to admit it, these days he tired easily.

Matt supposed it was to be expected, though.

After all, his dad wasn’t getting any younger.

Reluctantly, Matt put his laptop aside and followed him out to the porch.

If Jen hadn’t wanted to handle another stressful family dinner with the two of them, Matt couldn’t wait to hear how she would like being tracked down during her “free time.” Eager to avoid a situation she was likely to consider an intrusion, he asked casually, “Have you tried calling her cell?”

Emmett nodded grimly, squinting at the rural highway barely visible in the distance. Overhead, no stars were discernible. Along the horizon, there were violent flashes of jagged yellow light, and the wind had started whipping up, making the cattle nervous.

“I imagine her phone is either turned off or she’s out of range of a tower.”

She was fine.

It wasn’t like she needed him to rush to her rescue and wrap his arms around her. Even though, Matt admitted to himself, that was a tempting fantasy.

Aware that his dad was still weighing the advisability of going after her, Matt consulted his watch and tried to talk sense into him. “It’s only nine-thirty, Dad.”

It just seemed as if she’d been gone forever.

Emmett rubbed his wrist, as if it were hurting him. “The stores all close at nine.”

“Maybe’s she grabbing a late dinner.”

Or avoiding an early return by taking in a movie or hanging out at the Lone Star Dance Hall in Laramie. Both were pleasant ways to while away a stiflingly hot summer evening. The latter, especially, if Jen was looking for a little action….

Emmett took his car keys out of his pocket with a hand that shook slightly. “I’m going to go out and drive the road to town, anyway,” he announced with typical gallantry.

Matt didn’t want to think about his dad driving in the rain, with the moon all but obscured by the heavy cloud cover. The faint but distinct rumble of thunder was now audible. He shoved his own reluctance aside. “I’ll go. You stay here and man the phones in case Jen is in some kind of trouble.”

“Drive the entire route,” Emmett ordered. “Both of them!”

Matt nodded. He would, if only to keep his dad from getting further entangled.

* * *

I SHOULD HAVE checked the radiator before I left. At the very least refilled all the water bottles, Jen thought.

But she hadn’t.

She had simply hopped in her van and driven thirty minutes into Laramie, in the scorching hundred and ten degree heat. Her carelessness, coupled with the evaporation in a van that had been sitting in the full sun all day, with a growing leak in the radiator, had triggered the Check Engine light.

Halfway back to the Triple B, Jen had been forced to pull over into the nearest safe place—the middle of a field, just off the highway—and lift the hood, lest the van catch fire.

It was as she feared. The radiator had been bone-dry, the engine sizzling hot. Jen had poured the half bottle of water she had with her over both, then tried to call for help.

Only to find she was too far from a cell tower to get a signal.

Because it was already getting dark, and she could see storm clouds gathering in the distance, she had decided to climb back in the van and wait for help.

Only help hadn’t come.

And now, at nearly 10:00 p.m., with the wind blowing fiercely, Jen began to think she was going to have to spend the entire night out here. The notion of being stranded inside this stifling hot van, surrounded by whatever critters lurked in the deserted Texas countryside, didn’t bode well.

Worse, what had at first looked like heat lightning now appeared to be the real thing. She could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, and that made her nervous, too. In the middle of a flat field, she felt like a sitting duck.

She had read that rubber tires would absorb a lightning strike. She’d also seen Austin news reports of lightning going right through the hood of a running vehicle, decimating the motor.

Which made sense. The exterior was metal, after all.

Metal attracted lightning.

But she would be no safer outside the vehicle, because then she would have no protection whatsoever. So, heaven help her, she had to stay inside and try not to be scared witless. Wait…was that a truck going down the road?

Jen hit the horn—hard—but it wasn’t necessary. The pickup had already swerved around, and the headlamps swept the van.

The truck accelerated, coming right for her.

That quickly, the lightning—which had seemed so far away—lit up the dark sky with a bright yellow flash and a simultaneous clap of thunder that was so darn loud it had Jen nearly jumping out of her skin.

Tears sprang into her eyes as it was followed by a second lightning bolt and even louder rumble of thunder. Not that it seemed to bother the driver. The pickup circled around as the sky opened up and the rain poured down in fierce sheets. The vehicle did a U-turn and came back, stopping alongside her van. The passenger door swung open.

Matt Briscoe was clearly illuminated.

Jen had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Or embarrassed. Of all the people to rescue her…

He leaned over. “Get in!”

That would mean hopping across six feet of field, exposed to the storm. “I…” Am scared witless!

Too scared, in fact, to move.

Matt’s glance cut to the lifted hood on her van—the age-old sign of a vehicle in trouble. “Don’t argue!” he commanded, even more fiercely. “Just do it!”

Another bolt of lightning slashed down, striking a distant fence post. Fire flashed, splinters flew. A split second later, the thunder was deafening.

Jen didn’t have to be told twice. She wanted out of there. Now! After shoving her keys and phone into her purse, she jumped out of the van, slammed the driver’s door shut behind her and then dashed through the pouring rain to his vehicle.

Matt reached out and helped pull her inside the truck as yet another bolt of lightning struck the ground, an even shorter distance away.

Jen slammed the door.

“Hold on!” he said, shifting the truck into Drive.

Seconds later, they were bumping across the field toward the rural highway. While Jen scrambled to put on her safety belt, Matt drove through the pouring rain with a sure, steady hand.

Eventually, the worst of the lightning and thunder was behind them. He slowed.

“Might help to breathe,” he said.

He was right, Jen realized belatedly. She had been holding her breath. She let it out, then sucked in a rush of air that did little to dispel the tension coiled inside her.

She blotted the rain from her face with the backs of her hands. Pretty sure her mascara was running, she reached into her handbag for a tissue and dabbed it beneath her eyes. Feeling marginally better, she dropped the soiled tissue back in her purse, then cleared her throat, still trying to calm down. “How did you know where to find me?”

Matt shrugged, his broad shoulders straining against the soft cotton of his shirt. “If you were coming back from town, I figured you’d be on this road.” He paused to send her a brief, probing glance. “The question is, what were you doing parked in that field?” He turned his attention back to the road. “If you were broken down, why didn’t you call for help?”

I wished I could have called you.

Aware that she felt safer than she had in a long while, being here with him, she gestured out the window. “No cell phone reception.”

Matt’s lips compressed. “Yeah, coverage is spotty this far out of town.” His strong, capable hands clasped the wheel. “We have it on the ranch because we put up our own tower. Most don’t.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

He looked her over, taking in her windswept hair and rain-splattered skirt and blouse. “What was wrong with your van?”

There was concern in his eyes. A protectiveness that shouldn’t mean anything to her.

She feigned indifference—to both the situation and his gallantry—while she rubbed at the splatters of mud on her bare calves. “The radiator has a leak.” Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat again. “I didn’t check it before I left because I had just filled it yesterday afternoon, when I got here. But what was in there must have mostly evaporated.”

He scowled. “It’ll do that in this kind of weather, when there’s a leak.”

“Yeah, well, now I know that.” Jen sighed, her emotions roiling.

She squared her shoulders and tugged her skirt down, trying to prove to him that she was one hundred percent in charge of the situation, when of course she wasn’t. She didn’t seem to be in charge of anything when it came to Matt Briscoe.

Swallowing, she continued weakly, “I have no idea whose property I pulled off on….”

He shot her an evocative look. “The Armstrong ranch.”

Jen shivered in the cool air blowing out of the vents. Her blouse was damp, her arms bare. She ran her palms over her skin in an effort to warm herself. “I hope they don’t mind.”

Matt leaned forward to adjust the controls. Then his gaze drifted over her again. “I’m sure they won’t.”

Jen looked away from his handsome profile, the masculine set of his jaw. Aware that her nipples had pebbled—and he had definitely noticed—she crossed her arms in front of her and did her best to discreetly pluck the fabric away from her breasts. “How old is this pickup?”

Matt slowed as they neared the iron gate of the Triple B. “Sixteen years, give or take.”

Jen drew a shuddering breath. “It’s in really nice condition.” The bench seat seemed to have new leather. The dash and doors were equally pristine. Unfortunately, she had tracked mud onto the floor mat.

His large capable hands circling the wheel, he turned effortlessly into the lane. “Thanks.”

They traveled up the driveway in silence. “So it’s yours?” she asked when they finally reached the house, aware that—rational or not—she didn’t want this time with him to end.

“Yep.” Matt parked close to the porch and cut the motor. He eyed the pouring rain with a frown.

In no hurry to emerge from the cab and get soaked again, either, Jen relaxed in her seat and flashed a small smile. “How long have you had it?”

Matt released the buckle on his safety belt. “Since I got my learner’s permit.” With a sentimental gleam in his eyes, he admitted, “I learned to drive in it.”

Made sense, Jen mused. Years ago, this sturdy Ford 250 would have been the perfect vehicle for him. Now, when he could afford whatever he wanted…

Curiously, she asked, “What else do you drive?” She tried to picture him in a small, trendy sports car, and just couldn’t see it.

One hand resting on the steering wheel, Matt turned toward her. His knee nudged hers, sending another thrill pulsing through her still chilled, overstimulated body. “This is it. Unless it’s in the shop, and then I drive one of the other ranch vehicles. Whatever’s available. Doesn’t matter.”

Jen turned toward him, too.

The porch lights bathed the truck in a circle of warm yellow light, but the windows had already begun to steam up again, giving them a measure of warmth and privacy.

“I can’t believe we have that in common.”

He studied her, interest lighting his eyes. “You learned to drive in that van?”

“Yes.” Needing something to hold on to, Jen curled her fingers around the strap of her shoulder bag. “It belonged to my dad.” She struggled against the poignancy of the moment. “He used it for his housepainting business. I inherited it when he died. And now I use it for the gallery.”

Matt didn’t touch her, but something in the way he looked at her was at least that intimate.

“So it’s sentiment rather than finances that prompts you to keep it,” he guessed finally. “Even though it’s clearly on its last however many miles.”

“Three hundred thousand,” Jen informed him ruefully, glad Matt seemed to understand what few others did about her attachment to the vehicle. “But…yes.”

Another silence fell.

She noted his bemused expression and realized it would be so easy to take this to the next level and succumb to a kiss. For their mutual protection, she drew on formality to douse the spark of attraction between them.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue.” She released a shaky breath, and couldn’t help but add honestly, “I wouldn’t have expected it.” Any more than I would have expected this flood of desire rushing through me.

“Don’t go thanking me too much.” His response was polite enough, but she heard the steel undertone. “It wasn’t my idea. It was my dad’s.” Matt grimaced. “I just didn’t want him out on the roads.”

If Matt meant to push her away, after just drawing her close, he had succeeded.

“Well, thanks for clearing that up,” Jen said wryly as she picked up her bag and reached for the door handle. She planned to make her escape—even if it was still pouring rain. Of course, as luck would have it, the door was locked. And the button that would open it not all that easy to find. Especially in the semidarkness.

Not done with her yet, Matt caught her hand and pulled her around to face him again. His mouth quirked.

“At least that’s what I told myself initially,” he said softly, resting his right arm on the seat behind her. “But it wasn’t the truth.” His other hand came up to cup her face. “I was worried about you, too.”

Jen’s heart took a little leap as his words sank in.

Matt threaded his hand through her hair, and this time his gaze met hers without hesitation or resignation. “I’m glad I found you.”