Authors: Stacey Coverstone
Chapter Eight
Although Tularosa was a casual, laid back town, Jordan felt like dolling up a little. She dressed in a green and white polka dot halter sundress and white high-heeled sandals. Her hair she left hanging on her shoulders in soft curls. Dabs of her signature perfume went to her wrists and between her cleavage. Her heart started to drum when she heard Wyatt’s vehicle coming up the drive. The slam of a door and the crunch of boots on the crumbled sidewalk caused her breath to hitch. When she opened the door, she could tell he was pleased by what he saw.
“Am I overdressed?” she asked. Wyatt’s eyes enlarged. Seemed he couldn’t find his voice for a moment.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She gave him the once-over. He was dressed in black jeans, ironed with a crease down the leg, a crisp white shirt and polished black boots. A belt with a big silver buckle cinched his waist. Clean-shaven, he exuded the intoxicating aroma of spicy cologne. He cut a handsome figure of a man, and she was proud to be going out in public with him.
“You clean up very nice yourself,” she complimented. Although she resisted, the desire was strong to run her hand over his smooth cheek.
“I appreciate that. If you’re ready, your carriage awaits.”
She locked the door and, when offered, linked her arm through his. They sidestepped the sidewalk so her heels wouldn’t get caught in the cracks. A classic white ‘65 Mustang convertible was parked in the driveway. Unable to hide her surprise and delight, she said, “I figured you for just a pickup man.”
“You’ll come to find I’m not easily pigeonholed.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” Like a gentleman, he opened the door of the car, held her hand as she stepped in, and closed the door once she’d swung her legs in. “That earned you an extra Brownie point,” she joked.
“I didn’t know you were keeping track.” He climbed into the driver’s side. “My mama taught me how to treat a woman, Jordan.”
“I thank your mama.” She slid her hand over the red leather seats and commented on the car’s mint condition as Wyatt jammed the key into the ignition. “Can we keep the top down?” she asked.
“Most women would ask to keep the top up so it doesn’t mess up their hair.”
“You’ll find I’m not most women.”
“I already know that.”
Her stomach fluttered when he grinned and winked. Leaving the top down, he turned onto the hard road and pressed down on the gas pedal. The convertible lurched. Jordan squealed as they left the ranch behind in the dust. In short time, they breezed down the road with her hair blowing wild and free. When they pulled into the Casa de Sueños parking lot, she retrieved a small brush from her purse and brushed her hair back into shape.
“That was the most thrilling ride I’ve ever been on. This is a beautiful car.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s my pride and joy. Shall we?” He opened her door again and assisted her out. As they entered the restaurant, delectable smells wafted through the air and invaded her nostrils. The place was decorated like a Mexican cantina, with sombreros and bright woven rugs hanging on the walls, chunky wooden tables and chairs, and iron light fixtures. Wyatt said hello to a couple of people as the hostess seated them at a romantic corner table.
“Do you know every soul in this town?” she asked, sweeping her dress under her.
He chuckled. “You’ll know everyone, too, after you’ve been here twenty-two years.”
She considered that statement. Would she still be living at the Lucky Seven twenty-two years from now? It was hard to imagine with the way people moved around these days. Clearly, the ranch was where she was meant to be for now, but who knew what the future held? A teenage girl greeted them with menus.
“Good evening. I’m Emily. I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Jordan, what would you like? A tequila or a margarita?”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke.”
“Make that two,” Wyatt told the waitress, “only hold the diet part on mine.” She nodded and stepped away to let them peruse the menu.
“You don’t drink alcohol?” he asked Jordan.
“Very rarely. It doesn’t do anything for me. Most people behave like obnoxious idiots when they’re loaded. It’s not the least bit attractive to me. I always want to be in control of all my senses.”
“Smart lady. Hank helped me get sober. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in twenty-one years, six months and twelve days. Best thing that ever happened to me…until recently.”
“Congratulations. That’s truly an accomplishment to be proud of.”
“When I set my mind on a goal, I usually achieve it.” He gazed intently into her eyes, making her squirm inside her dress. She caught his double meaning, both times.
“Two Cokes, one Diet.” Emily sat down the sodas and flipped open her pad. “Have you decided yet?”
“Gee, I haven’t looked over the selections carefully,” Jordan said, skimming the menu again. “What do you suggest, Brannigan?”
“I like the beef fajitas. That’s what I’ll have,” he decided, closing the menu.
“I’ll have the same, only make mine chicken, please.”
“Good choice.” Wyatt handed the menus back to the waitress and took a drink of soda. “Tell me about your family. Are they in Denver?”
“My parents are both deceased.”
“I’m sorry. You’re young to have lost them both.”
“Yes, and I have no siblings. My only other relatives in Colorado were my maternal grandparents, whom I was very close to. My grandpa died about four years ago. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s disease. She’s in a long-term care facility in Denver. I hated to leave her, but she doesn’t know me anymore, and she’s in a wonderful place. They take very good care of her.”
“That would be Lydia’s sister?”
“Yes. Her name is Laura.”
Wyatt shook his head. “In all the years I knew her, Lydia never mentioned a sister.”
Jordan took a sip of her drink. He was easy to talk to, and appeared genuinely empathetic. She decided to tell him about her family. “I don’t know what happened in my family. As a young child I remember an argument, and then Aunt Lydia’s name was never mentioned again that I could recall. It was as if she never existed. I’d forgotten all about her, to tell you the truth. When I received the letter from Mr. Taylor telling me I’d inherited the Lucky Seven from her, I just about fell off my chair—literally.”
“I’ll bet you did. That would be a shock to anyone.”
“I still can’t figure out why she left the ranch to me. She didn’t know anything about me. How could she? As far as I know, no one in my family ever had any contact with her. No one mentioned she was living in New Mexico.”
“She had to leave it to someone,” he said. “She must have had fond memories of you as a little girl.”
“Perhaps. But I was very young when she left. For all she knew I could have grown up to be a drug dealer or someone who kicks dogs.”
His laugh brought another smile to her face. “Hardly. My dog fell in love with you the moment you two met.”
“Is that so? How do you know that?”
“He told me. We share a lot of secrets. Tag’s my best buddy. It’s easy to see why he’s so taken with you.”
“Uh-huh. I fed him ham. That works for most men I know.”
“You didn’t feed me ham. What’s my excuse for being so infatuated?”
Heat, on the level of two pink suns, warmed Jordan’s cheeks. He was not shy about handing her compliments. She changed the subject. “Tell me about the horses. What kind are they?”
“Mostly quarter horses. There’s a pretty butterscotch mare in the group. She’s a real sweet Palomino. You’ll love her. She gives a smooth ride.”
As if the sun had gone behind clouds, Jordan suddenly felt the burden of duty weigh heavily on her shoulders. “I don’t know how to take care of horses, and I’ve never ridden one before. Why would Lydia leave me with such a big responsibility?”
He obviously noticed her discomfort and tried to reassure her. “Your blood is her blood. She must have trusted you to have the same passion for living creatures that she did. Eventually, if not right away. You don’t have to continue her rescue operation, you know. You’re not obligated. That was Lydia’s thing. I’ll help you find homes for the horses if that’s what you want, but I’ll show you how to handle them in the meantime.”
“Thank you. It seems I’m going to owe you big time before we’re done.”
“I’ll look forward to my payback.”
She gulped her soda. The man was either a total flirt, or else those double-entendres came second nature to him. As they savored the sizzling fajitas that were placed before them moments later, the two of them conversed about the town, the geography of New Mexico, and ranching. When Wyatt suggested they end the meal with some fried ice cream smothered in mango and caramel sauce, despite the concern about her waistline, Jordan could not refuse. As persistent as he was, she got the feeling it would become increasingly difficult to say no to the man—whatever the situation.
It had grown dark by the time they left the restaurant. The sky was blanketed with hot, white stars. Wyatt drove back to the ranch slowly. They strolled up to the house arm in arm, not speaking. The night air was sultry. Nothing moved except some lizards in the dry grass, and the senses he stirred in her. They stepped onto the front stoop and she gazed at the pale moon and sighed.
“It was a lovely evening, Brannigan. I had a wonderful time. But you should have let me pay. I’m the one who owes you.” When the waitress had set the check on the table, Jordan had tried to wrestle it away from his hand, but he would not give it up.
“No way,” he replied now. “I’m an old fashioned guy. When you’re with me, I’ll take care of you.” There he goes again, she thought. Another comment left open for interpretation. The glow of the moon cast a shimmer on his rugged features. Wyatt stepped in close. He smelled so good. She knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him, too. Badly. And she was going to let him.
He tipped her chin up with his finger. Her eyes drifted shut. Every nerve in her body pulsed with anticipation. Opening her lips, the longing to feel his mouth on hers was overpowering. Her heart beat crazily. Wyatt leaned forward— and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. What the heck? When nothing more followed, her eyes snapped open.
“You’ve been a marvelous dinner companion, Jordan,” he said. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
She stood rooted in shock. Had she tried to speak, she knew her voice would have betrayed her. He turned and strode to the driveway, whistling. All she could do was lift her hand and wave as he drove off.
~ * ~
With a hand drooped casually over the wheel, Wyatt remained in deep thought while driving home. He’d wanted to kiss her just now. But if he started, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. He desired her more than he’d ever desired another woman. But it was much too early for all that. He could tell she was as scared as a rabbit when it came to loving again. Her heart had been battered. How could any man have hurt her? Only a fool, he surmised. But that man’s loss was his gain.
She’d puckered up for him, hadn’t she? He smiled. Yes, she had. She’d wanted to kiss him as much as he’d wanted to do the honors. He turned onto the drive leading to his house with her pretty face clouding his thoughts. His stomach clenched as if he’d been punched in the gut. Jordan pierced the sturdy shield that had protected his own heart all these years. It seemed impossible, but she was the one he’d been waiting for. He’d known the moment they met. The quickening in his chest and the heat pricking his neck had been sure signs.
After parking the car, he unlocked the back door. Tag greeted him with a wagging tail. He relocked the door and strode to his bedroom in the dark. When he flipped on the light, he stared at the bed and imagined her in it.
What was wrong with him? He bent and yanked off his boots. He’d have to cool it. He didn’t want to frighten her off. She’d think he was a real nut case if he admitted his feelings so soon. He was a patient man by nature. He could wait. When the time came, he’d know for certain that she’d want him as much as he wanted her—and then the woman had better be prepared for the ride of her life. In the meantime, he’d be his usual charming self. Slowly, but surely, he’d sweep her off her little cowgirl feet.
~ * ~
Jordan wriggled out of her dress and hung it in the closet. After she slipped on a sleep shirt and washed her face, she padded into the kitchen to start a pot of water boiling for a cup of tea. The Motrin she’d taken earlier for her aches had worn off. After popping two more, she discovered an electric heating pad tucked in one of the kitchen drawers. Snuggling up on the comfy sofa with the heating pad was the next best thing to snuggling with Wyatt, which was what she thought she’d be doing right now.
He had certainly surprised her by not kissing her at the door. All signs had led to it. She’d been disappointed and confused when it didn’t happen. But now that she thought about it, she was glad they hadn’t kissed. The last thing she needed was to be getting tangled up in a relationship. It was something she kept telling herself. Besides, she had so many other things to think about and take care of. There was no time for dating. The ranch was her number one priority. Her back was killing her, and her muscles screamed in agony from overwork. She wasn’t used to the kind of physical labor she’d done in the barn today. Even though she was sore, it was a good kind of sore. It made her feel she was alive. Mucking out the stalls and readying them for the horses had brought on a feeling of euphoria. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, except for the first blush of love. That was a feeling as euphoric as they came. But no more thoughts of love! She forced her thoughts to other things.
Between cleaning the barn and going to dinner with Wyatt, she’d run in to Alamogordo to the Super Wal-Mart and purchased a television. She adjusted the heating pad behind her back and pointed the remote and channel-surfed until she found a sitcom to watch. The reception wasn’t too clear without cable, but it was better than the dead silence that had filled the night before. When the phone jangled, she smiled. It didn’t take long for him to miss her. She slowly stood up and shuffled to the phone, answering in the lowest and sexiest voice she could muster.