To Court a Cowgirl (10 page)

* * *

A
LLIE
HAD
WAITED
all day for Jason's call but it never came, and when she got home, Lou was still as big as a house, standing next to the windbreak, idly switching her tail. But one of the other cows had a brand-new baby frolicking around it.

“Sorry about no call,” Jason said, pointing at the calf. “The thing was born before either of us noticed the cow was on the ground.”

“That's the way I wish all the calves would come.” Allie studied the demolition sight because it was easier than looking at Jason and feeling her breath go all wonky. “So how'd it go with Zach today? It looks like you made some headway on the heap.”

“Better.”

“You got him talking?”

“Not really. I told him to pull his head out of his ass and he complied as best he could.”

Allie's jaw dropped. “Was that the best strategy?” She didn't want Zach to quit and thus cause Liz more anxiety.

“It worked.”

“Seems harsh to me.”

“There's harsh and then there's harsh. I told the kid that he wasn't going to solve his problems by being rude and combative. I don't think that's too harsh.”

“But pulling his head out of his ass?”

Jason gave a small snort. “That was to get his attention.”

“Did it work?” Allie asked.

“The situation had to be addressed. Zach was setting it up so that I had to address it.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I do. So I gave him attention that he could handle. I honestly think had I gone all touchy-feely on him and offered to listen while he poured his guts out, he would have really crawled inside of himself.”

“I can see why your dad wants you to sell cars.”

His expression went flat. “Meaning?”

“You seem to understand human nature.”

“I'm used to reading opponents.”

“It seems like a little more than that.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Careful, Allie...you're edging close to a compliment.”

She smirked at him.

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow,” he said in that low voice she was starting to really love to listen to.

“Guess so,” she said. Damn it, she didn't want him to leave.

“Are you okay?”

She narrowed her gaze at him, as if it were his fault that she found him attractive. “I'm think I'm as good as I'm going to get for now.”

“Want to talk?”

She shook her head. “I don't need anyone telling me to pull my head out.”

Jason laughed and Allie fought her answering smile. She lost.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Jason.” She turned and started toward the house, wondering if she looked back suddenly if she would catch Jason Hudson watching her leave.

Was it wrong that a small part of her hoped that he was?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Z
ACH
SHOWED
UP
at exactly seven o'clock the next morning and he seemed to think he deserved a medal or something. Jason merely directed him back to the wall he'd been dismantling and started pulling nails out of the used board. He actually liked pulling nails. There was something satisfying about the feel of the metal pulling free of the wood.

Simple pleasures...like running a pattern, dodging his coverage, looking over his shoulder and seeing the ball coming in right on target. Yeah. A simple pleasure that he'd been paid lots of money to partake in, which in turn prepared him for absolutely nothing once his career had ended.

He was lucky, though, that he'd taken care with his money instead of blowing it all. Financially, he was going to be fine, as long as he didn't do anything extravagant—like try to live without an income. He needed a job and he needed a reason to get out of bed in the morning. A plan.

Zach didn't glower at him today, but he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine, either. As long as he wasn't blatantly rude, Jason planned to ignore him. It worked out well. Zach ignored him, he ignored Zach. Finally the kid couldn't take it anymore.

“So you're all rich and shit, right?”

“I planned for my future, if that's what you're asking,” Jason said.

“So why are you doing this?” Zach stood upright, holding the crowbar loosely in one hand.

“I like it.”

Zach stared at him. “How can you like this?”

Jason shrugged. “I like being outdoors.” More than he ever thought he would when he wasn't practicing or playing. He wedged his crowbar in between two boards and pried. “What's not to like?”

“Pay's crap, it's temporary and like you said, it's outdoors.”

“I would have thought you'd like the outdoors,” Jason said.

“Why?”

“You're a ranch kid.”

Zach's gaze narrowed dangerously. “
Was
a ranch kid.”

“So you never liked the outdoors?”

“Let's just say that I've come to realize that I won't be working on a ranch.”

“There are other ranches.”

“You know my situation, don't you?” Zach spoke flatly, in a voice that indicated that he didn't want sympathy. That he would find it embarrassing.

“I know that you were supposed to work on your family ranch and it fell through.”

Zach snorted. “That's an interesting way to put it. Fell through. Yeah.”

Jason didn't reply. There was nothing to say and talking would only make Zach feel more self-conscious.

“My dad hooked up with this woman and he doesn't want me on the ranch.” His expression was openly challenging, although Jason didn't know what he was being challenged to do. Or not do. “My dad sucks.”

“My dad wants me to sell cars for my uncle.”

“How the hell is that the same?” Zach demanded.

“It's not, and you know what? You can drop the
hells
and
shits
around me.”

“Do they offend you?” The kid sneered as he spoke.

“Yeah. They do.” He didn't have the cleanest mouth in the world, but he was conscious of what he said and when.

“Bullshi—” Zach's voice trailed as Jason gave him a hard look. “Fine. I'll watch my language. I'd hate to burn your ears.”

“Thank you.” Jason went back to the woodpile.

“Is this for real?” Zach asked from behind him.

“When we know each other better, we can hang out and drop the f-bomb and have all kinds of fun. But one thing you need to know—people judge you by your language. If you're not with friends, watch what you say.”

Zach's forehead wrinkled and Jason thought the kid was on the edge of telling him to go to hell. Just because. He didn't. Instead he gave his head a shake, as if trying to make sense of a world gone mad, and went back to stripping boards off the frame.

Once again they ate on their respective tailgates and Jason wondered if he'd made a mistake by telling the kid to watch his mouth, because now he was totally silent. He didn't know if he was being taught a lesson, or if Zach didn't trust himself not to curse. Jason assumed it was the former, so once again he ignored the boy.

His phone rang in his pocket and he was tempted to ignore it, but couldn't because it might be Kate calling about their father. He pulled out the phone and was glad he hadn't given in to the temptation to reach into his pocket and silence it. A San Diego area code showed on the screen.

His heart gave a hard thump as he answered.

“Mr. Hudson? This is Amanda Morehouse from Brandt University athletics department. How are you today?”

“Doing well,” Jason said. Except for a sudden and unexpected clenching of his gut.

“Excellent. I see where you applied for the position of assistant to the associate director of athletics and I would like to set up a time for a preliminary interview if you're interested in pursuing the position.”

“I'm interested.”

“Excellent. We can schedule you for Wednesday at eight or Thursday at nine.”

“Wednesday.”

“Excellent. You'll need a phone and a laptop...” She continued with the instructions while Zach, who'd been watching him closely, balled up the paper bag his sandwiches had come in and eased himself off the tailgate. Three “excellents” later, Amanda finished, wished him good luck and Jason hung up.

“Hot date?” Zach asked.

“Job interview.”

“Huh.” Zach reached for his hard hat and plopped it onto his head. “If I was rich, I wouldn't work.”

“Guess we're different, then.” Because Jason would be bored out of his skull.

* * *

J
ASON
AND
Z
ACH
had been getting ready to leave when Allie drove onto the ranch, late due to grocery shopping. After she'd unloaded her car and put away her purchases, she set a frozen dinner in the microwave and then paced the kitchen a few times. She felt antsy, unsettled. In need of something that didn't have a name.

Jason?

Okay, maybe part of what she needed did have a name. But this edgy, unsettled feeling had to do with something more than Jason's overall hotness and her reaction to it. It was tied in with her job and her future and her general frustration about having no clear direction. And there were other things she needed to face.

The microwave dinged, but Allie ignored it. She wasn't hungry.

Do it. Now
.

Squaring her shoulders for battle, Allie headed upstairs to the attic entrance at the end of the hall. Once there, she folded the rug back so that the door could swing out. A wave of cold musty air hit her as she opened the door, and she wrinkled her nose as she reached up to pull the light cord.

She hadn't been up these dusty stairs since Kyle left. She hadn't wanted to go up them. Hadn't wanted to disturb the memories she'd stored away. Her sisters had had no such qualms. They'd raided the attic, brought down her garden paintings and hung them, thus shocking the hell out of her when she'd come home on a school break.

The rest of her paintings were leaning against the far wall of the attic, each covered with an old bath towel or cloth in a weak attempt to protect them from the dust. It had worked...kind of.

Allie didn't look at the paintings as she stacked them, covers still in place. There were eight in all. Her “major” works. She took them downstairs, leaving the attic door open behind her, and then slowly uncovered each painting and laid it out on the living room floor.

She remembered them, yet she didn't. There were landscapes, garden scenes and two still lifes of different arrangements of Jolie's rodeo gear. They were all colorful, all done with loose brushstrokes that her art teacher had once told her he envied. He'd liked her work a lot, had encouraged her to go to art school, but now that she'd had a good half decade away from painting, she could see things she would change.

A knock on the door made her jump. Jason. She got to her feet, crossed the room and opened the door. He shifted his weight, just as he had that night he'd first shown up. If anyone had told her then, after she'd sent him packing when he'd asked to buy her ranch, that not only would he be on the ranch on a daily basis, but that her body would also go on high alert every time she was close to him, she would have laughed. But right now she didn't feel like laughing. She felt self-conscious about her life laid out on the floor behind her.

“You're still here?”

His mouth tilted. “It appears I am. What's up, Allie?”

And just like that the focus shifted from the reason why he was standing at her door to what was eating at her. She was going to have to work on her game face.

She gave a slight shrug. “Just facing my past.”

“Sounds heavy.”

She forced a smile. “It's not really.” She gestured at the canvases on the floor behind her. “I hauled paintings down from the attic.” She hesitated ever so briefly before saying, “I need to do something with them.”

It was the honest truth. The need to see the paintings in decent light, to gauge her personal reaction to them, had been weighing on her for the past several days. It was as if her artwork were yet another chapter in her life that needed to be closed.

“You said this was a phase.”

Allie made a noncommittal noise as Jason edged by her to get a better look at her work. After a few seconds, he glanced up at her, his gaze clear and questioning. “Why did you stop painting?”

“I had other things filling my time.”

“These are good.”

“Know a lot about art?”

The comment came out sounding snottier than she'd intended, but before she could take it back he surprised her by saying, “Yeah. I do. I dated a gallery owner for a while. Learned some stuff. Took a few classes.” He shrugged.

Her lips parted a little as she held his gaze. “Okay.” She swallowed, then allowed herself a frown. “Why
are
you still here?”

“I'll be late on Wednesday. I have a Skype interview at eight o'clock.”

Skype meant not local. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what job he was interviewing for, and where it was located, but it really wasn't any of her business. Right? And she shouldn't have this hollow feeling growing inside of her at the thought of him leaving. Of course he was eventually going to leave. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. It's with my alma mater. Assistant to an associate athletic director.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Assistant. I, uh—” she shrugged before plowing ahead with the truth “—thought that you'd be applying for a major-league coaching job of some kind. College, the pros...”

“You have to work your way into those. It takes time.”

“I see.” But she didn't. She'd assumed that Jason, with his career and connections, would slide into some top-level job after his dad convalesced.
Assistant
to an associate?

“There are a lot of guys leaving the pros every year. It's not as easy as you would think to remain in the sport.”

“That makes sense.”

“I'll get here as soon as I can and I'll tell Zach he doesn't need to show up until after nine. He shouldn't tackle things alone.”

“True. And you know, you could interview here if you wanted. The house will be empty and you could have privacy. Not that you wouldn't have privacy at your home.”

“I wouldn't,” Jason said flatly. “Not unless I pay my sister to entertain my father.”

Allie smiled a little. She'd met Jason's dad a time or two and he did seem like a strong character. “I don't lock the door when I leave, so if you want to use this place, do.”

“You don't lock up?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You're here and I assume you'd notice if anyone was robbing me. And there's always the off chance you'll need to clean a wound or something.”

“Or something.” He hooked his thumb in his belt loop, fighting a smile. “I might take you up on the offer.”

“Feel free,” she said again.

“Thanks. Well, I'd better be going.” He nodded at the paintings. “I like your work, Allie.”

“Thank you.” Once he'd gone, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it, trying to see her paintings through his eyes—the eyes of an uninvolved bystander. He was the first person other than her sisters and Kyle to see her work. And he liked it.

Allie didn't want to feel validated by his assessment, but she did. When she'd started painting, it'd been for her and her alone. A way to push reality aside as she disappeared into her own realm. And then, when Kyle had pointed out that the time she spent painting could be better spent on other things, she'd had to agree. Stuff needed to be done. Money needed to be earned. Even when she'd painted in short sessions, Kyle had tried to pull her away. At the time she'd felt gratified that her husband had wanted to spend so much time with her. Looking back, it seemed more likely that he'd simply been jealous of anything that didn't involve him.

Allie stacked the canvases and headed back up the stairs. When she'd brought them downstairs she'd hoped she'd be able to throw them away. Cart them out to the trash and be done with them.

Didn't happen. For whatever reason, she wasn't yet ready to let go.

Nudging open the partially open attic door with the toe of her shoe, Allie headed up the narrow attic stairs and then deposited the artwork against the far wall. Maybe all she needed was a little more time—or to forget the canvases were there and move on with her life.

* * *

J
ASON
CLOSED
HIS
laptop and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. It was nine o'clock in the morning and he felt wiped out.
So this was an interview
.