Betting on Texas (3 page)

“Go in and see your new house.” Jesse kicked at some hay. “Get
yourself settled and grab something to eat. I’ll finish up out here.”

Miranda didn’t protest. She limped past him, toward the
porch.

The urge was too great for him to resist. “I told you those new
boots were going to be a killer.”

Miranda stopped. He half expected her to give him another
tongue-lashing. Instead, she hesitated briefly then continued on walking.

It was time to get back to work while he still had duties here
at the ranch. “She’s something else,” he said to General Lee as Jesse led him
out of the corral.

The horse nodded his head as if he understood. Jesse watched
Miranda hobble up the porch stairs. Each step was a well-calculated
movement.

“I almost feel sorry for her.” Jesse latched the stall door
once the horse was inside. “It must be rough. A new town, a new home and a
jackass who pushes her around.”

General Lee’s muzzle smacked Jesse’s head into one of the stall
posts.

“Watch it!” Jesse rubbed the side of his head. “What’s gotten
into you today? If you’re trying to knock some sense into me, you can forget it.
She’s trouble with a capital
T
and I don’t give a
damn what happens to her.”

The gelding turned in his stall and presented Jesse with a rear
view.

“Thanks, pal.” He stormed off to the stable office. He knew he
needed to apologize to Miranda for the way he’d treated her. More important, he
needed to find a way to convince her to sell him the ranch. If he played his
cards right, he could do it all with the help of one person and nobody would be
the wiser.

Jesse picked up the phone and dialed.

Chapter Two

Miranda sat in the kitchen, soaking her feet in a small
aluminum tub she found in the pantry. They were covered in blisters and ached
more than they ever had in her life.

Note to self: wear sneakers next
time.
Score one for the cowboy.

She never thought she would make it through the first stall,
let alone the last one. But she’d be damned if she’d let a man get the best of
her. Who did he think he was, anyway?

If he tells me what to do one more time,
I’ll...well, I’ll do something. That’s for sure.
The phrase “where
the sun don’t shine” came to mind.

She tried twice to reach Jonathan, only to get his voice mail.
He talked to her on the phone most of the previous night to keep her company
during her drive. She couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t answering.

Until she figured out what to do, she needed to bite her tongue
when it came to Jesse. But it didn’t mean she’d allow him to boss her around and
make fun of her. Yes, she needed some lessons on ranch life. Yes, he was the
perfect one to show her the ropes. But mucking the stalls? That was a man’s job.
She could feed the horses or put out fresh water or whatever the heck people did
on a ranch full of animals.

When Jonathan first mentioned Double Trouble she knew in her
heart it was where she belonged. Even before she saw the photographs. If anyone
knew the kind of life she desired, it was Jonathan. Not only was he her best
friend, he was the brother she never had. He was the only one she trusted with
her hopes and dreams. Now here she was, unable to reach him and away from
everyone she knew. She was officially a ranch owner. A ranch owner with horses
and cattle.

Don’t forget the chickens.

Although it was an extraordinary and rare event, winning the
lottery hadn’t quite been the highlight of Miranda’s year. After what she had
been through, it came more as a relief. While it wasn’t enough money to
guarantee she’d never have to work again, it was enough to buy Double Trouble
and her truck outright. A sheet of paper with her finances lay before her. Every
dime was carefully budgeted. And if she played her cards right, she had a year
of padding built in.

Miranda shivered. She wasn’t sure if she was cold and scared or
overwhelmed by the vastness of the ranch. Choosing the latter as a reasonable
explanation, Miranda decided to unpack the items she’d brought with her. Then
maybe the old place would feel more like home. Starting with a pair of
flip-flops. She knew they were in one of these boxes.

Furniture shopping was on the top of her list for tomorrow. She
didn’t have much left after she’d donated almost everything she owned to
Goodwill before she left D.C.

Miranda noted every nook and cranny of the house. There were
very few furnishings left behind. Much less than she had figured. A large drop
leaf farm table and chairs, some bookcases and a few end tables were all that
remained. Considering the sale included the contents of the ranch, she expected
more furniture, and fewer animals. It was only day one and she already had to
adjust her budget.

After choosing which room would be her bedroom, Miranda went
downstairs by way of a narrow staircase that led to the kitchen. The old door
creaked as she opened it, causing her to smile. Most people would lubricate the
old iron hinges. She rather liked the homey sound.

Years of smoke darkened the bricks above the fireplace and
bread oven. Another bit of charm she would preserve.

This is where I’m meant to be.

She could almost hear the love and laughter that used to fill
these empty rooms. When she closed her eyes, she saw her own dreams of
yesteryear play out before her. She opened them and envisioned children running
in from outside, muddy feet leaving footprints behind them on the worn floor.
Memories of her past faded. It was time for new ones.

By the time Miranda unloaded her truck and rental trailer, it
was midafternoon. Taking a bottle of pink lemonade and a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich from her cooler, she surveyed the ranch through the screen door.

Miranda had to face the fact that Jonathan knew about Jesse and
the livestock. Why else would he be dodging her calls? His secretary claimed he
was away on business for the remainder of the week, but he’d mentioned nothing
about that yesterday. How convenient. When she tried his cell phone, all she
heard was Jonathan’s chipper voice mail greeting. After the last message Miranda
left, she’d be amazed if he ever spoke to her again. Why didn’t he clue her in
on everything before she arrived? She’d had enough surprises over the past year
to last a lifetime.

“How am I ever going to manage this place?”

“With a little help and a lot of kindness.”

Miranda jumped at the response. A middle-aged woman, with skin
the color of cinnamon, poked her head through the door.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, dear,” the woman said as she let
herself in. She carried an armful of brown paper sacks filled to the hilt with
cleaning products. She placed them on the table, then beelined for the boxes
Miranda had left on the counter.

“Excuse me.” Miranda tried to get the woman’s attention.
“Excuse me, um, whoever you are.”

“The name’s Mable Promise,” she said as she glanced around the
room. “Jesse reckoned you might need a helping hand, or two, around here. We
sure do have our work cut out for us. This house sat empty for way too long.
Needs a good going-over, if I do say so myself.”

“I don’t understand.” Jesse told the woman she needed help?
“I—”

“There’s nothing to understand. Now come on. We have plenty to
do by the looks of things.” Mable directed Miranda to a stack of unopened boxes
while she worked her way through the pots and pans. “Well, don’t just stand
there stewin’ in your own juices. If we’re going to make this ranch work, we
best get started.”

Miranda struggled to speak, choosing to chew on her bottom lip
instead. Who was this woman unpacking her utensils?

“I’ll wash everything here. Do you have fresh linens on the
beds?”

“Beds? I don’t have any beds. I don’t have any furniture
really. I’m planning to go shopping tomorrow. Tonight I’ll camp out on the
living room floor.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Mable dried her hands and walked
over to the screen door. “Jesse! Get on in here!”

The apples of Mable’s cheeks glowed as she smiled at Miranda.
She had welcoming eyes. Caring and compassionate, like the eyes a mother has for
her child. Miranda could only guess what it would have felt like if her own
mother had once looked at her that way.

Jesse stood in the doorway. A perfect silhouette of his body
stood in contrast to the afternoon sun. Miranda’s pulse began to quicken.

“Drive Miranda into town and pick up a mattress and box spring.
I don’t want her sleeping on the hard floor. Lord knows it needs a good
scrubbing. If you hurry, you can get to Mayfield’s before they close.”

Mable bustled about the kitchen as she spoke, her feet moving
as fast as her tongue. Jesse laughed. This was apparently normal to him. He
seemed at home and relaxed as he watched the robust woman. Until the woman
stopped in her tracks and glared at him.

“Uh-oh.” Jesse groaned then scrambled for the door.

“Now go on...git!”

Mable chased them outside and down the porch stairs with a dish
towel. Miranda yelped as they crossed the yard to her truck. She’d forgotten she
was barefoot. Her blisters sure hadn’t.

Her shoes were inside. She imagined the wrath she would incur
if she went back in and asked for them. A few seconds later, the screen door
swung wide and Mable tossed a pair of flip-flops down the stairs. Carefully, she
slid her feet into them. As much as they hurt, she wasn’t about to let Jesse see
her pain.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Miranda nodded toward the
kitchen. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Forget it. It was my way of apologizing for the way I treated
you earlier.”

Miranda wasn’t quite sure if she should thank him or strangle
him. A stranger just chased her out of her home and took over her kitchen.

“Who is she, anyway?”

“Mable’s been a family friend for as long as I can recall.”
Jesse leaned on the truck fender. “She worked for the Carters before the
accident. Lived in that cottage over there. Figured she could work here again
since you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“Work for me? Look, I don’t know how much money you think I
have, but—”

“As long as she can live on Double Trouble, she’ll be happy
with whatever you can pay. Her husband passed on a few years ago. He ran the
cattle end of the business before they downsized it. They shared their final
years together here. This place has sentimental value to her.”

Miranda sensed a guilt trip coming on. “I’m sorry to hear that
but—”

“Word to the wise, sugar, don’t ever let Mable hear you say you
feel sorry for her. She’ll tan your hide for sure.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant. It’s Mable who won’t.”

Miranda felt all control over her ranch slip further away with
each word out of her mouth.

“Nice rig. Must have set you back a bit,” Jesse said, as he
inspected the black quad cab pickup. “Not that it would matter much to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Jesse jumped in the driver’s seat.
“Toss me the keys.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I can drive myself, without any help
from you.”

“You have no idea where you’re going,” Jesse said. “The center
of town is nowhere near the interstate, which I assume is the way you came in.
You’ll get lost on these back roads.”

“If I can manage to get here all the way from D.C., I think I
can handle a little trip into town. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Suit yourself.” Jesse pointed toward the main road. “It’s that
way.”

An endless dirt road lay before the ranch. The same dirt road
she drove down when she arrived. And she didn’t recall seeing any signs for a
town ahead along the way.

“Sure you don’t want me to tag along? I can help you try out
those beds.” He winked, his intentions all too clear.

“Let me get this straight.” Miranda smiled. “You don’t even
like me, yet you’re offering to sleep with me?”

“Honey, I don’t have to like you in order to bed you for the
night.”

Miranda ignored his comment as she climbed in the truck. She
headed down the dusty road, in the opposite direction she had come earlier. She
had grown accustomed to her new truck over the past few days. Anything beat the
broken-down cracker box she’d driven for the past six years.

After she passed three unmarked turnoffs, she decided to try
her luck on the next one. It was next to impossible to tell which led to ranches
and which ones were legitimate roads. Acres upon acres of pastures and crops
lined the narrow lane, but there was no sign of a town.

A few attempts down others brought her to an intersection
identical to the one she’d passed a few miles before. Now she was lost.

An hour later, she found herself in front of Double Trouble—no
closer to town than she was before she left.

“Shoot!”

Miranda drove down the ranch drive, watching for signs of
Jesse. The noise her tires made on top of the cattle guards made an unnoticed
entrance highly unlikely. There was no way she was about to admit she’d never
made it to town. He would enjoy it a little too much. She parked the truck and
ran up the stairs. Mable would give her directions and she would try again
tomorrow.

Miranda threw open the screen door and smacked face-first into
Jesse’s chest.

“How was town, sugar?” He raised a brow as if to challenge
her.

“I...uh.” Miranda tried to sidestep the cowboy, but he braced
his arms on either side of the doorjamb.

“What was it you were saying?”

Jesse’s wicked grin said it all. He knew.

“So what?” Miranda pushed him aside and stormed into the
kitchen. “So, I never made it into town.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said I never made it to town!” Miranda shouted. “Are you
deaf or just stupid?”

Miranda swore she felt steam rise from her skin. In a matter of
hours, Jesse learned the right buttons to push. In one day, he managed to
infuriate her more than most men did in a lifetime.

“My hearing’s fine, but you appear to be the stupid one,” he
said as he strolled out the door. “Couldn’t even get your sorry self to town.
Guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight after all.”

The screen door slammed in his wake.

“Oh!” Miranda stomped her feet.

“We’ll have none of that, dear.” Mable joined Miranda as they
watched Jesse’s retreat to the foreman’s house. “Pay no mind to him. His
feathers are still ruffled over this place.”

“None of which was my fault,” Miranda added. “What’s his
problem, anyway? He’s so angry and bitter.”

“Pride. Pure pride.” Grabbing a bottle of pink lemonade out of
Miranda’s cooler, Mable opened it and took a sip. “Eww. I need to teach you how
to make this stuff from scratch. It sure would taste better.”

Miranda felt her anger leaving her as she stared at the old
kitchen floor. A layer of wax left a thick residue on the stained linoleum. She
eyed a box of steel wool Mable had brought and got up to fill a bucket of water.
On her hands and knees, Miranda began to scrub. Mable followed suit, and the two
of them slowly began stripping the floor. It was cathartic in its own way.

“He’s a tough one to figure out,” Mable said.

Miranda only nodded in agreement.

“Jesse’s father never forgave him when he opted out of the
family business.” Mable continued to scour as she spoke. “It’s not so much he
didn’t want to be a part of the family ranch. He wanted to build one of his
own.”