Denim & Diamonds (3 page)

The door closed with a click, and
Charlotte’s muffled footsteps marked her exit. Finally alone, Beth stared at the closed door for nearly a full minute, just trying to take it all in and convince herself that this was real. This had been her father’s home. She was honestly standing in the – correction,
a
– guest bedroom at her father’s ranch. Though they had been estranged for years, she was curious about the man. She turned to take a closer look at the room.

The furniture was perfect, an eclectic mix of antique and new. The tall canopy bed was just like she had dreamed of as a little girl. A double-wedding ring quilt and several pillows of different sizes, shapes and all different shades of pink completed the look. Even the dust ruffle and the tulle wound around the canopy frame was pink. Just like she’d always wanted.

And her father had done this for strangers.

She snorted. Her father hadn’t decorated this room. Most likely, he’d never even stepped foot in this room if the living room was any indication of his decorating tastes.
Charlotte had probably decorated this room. But for who?

Had the pink room been set up for his mistresses? Ever since her parents had divorced when she was ten, her mother had told her that her father was too busy with his various women to spend time with his daughter.

Regardless of his failings, at least he had given Beth a chance for a fresh start when she needed it most, even if it was too late for them to mend their relationship.

They say women often choose men like their father. With a wry smile, she realized that was exactly what she had done. Would she ever find a man that could be faithful?

She shook the mental images from her head and began searching through a chest of drawers, surprised to find clothes in several styles and colors, most in her size or close to it. She settled on a pair of gray sweats and a gray T-shirt, glad to be out of her wet clothes. After she washed up and brushed the wild out of her curls, she set the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. The pale pink flannel sheets

were wonderful, soft and comforting as she sank into bed, and drifted off to dreams of scruffy cowboys with sparkling blue eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR

B
eth woke with a start, confused and a bit off kilter. Someone knocked on her door. The wooden door creaked as Charlotte poked her head in. Memories flashed through Beth’s mind: the driving rain, the accident, her father’s ranch . . . and a sexy cowboy.

“Breakfast is ready,”
Charlotte said. "The boys have already eaten, but I thought you might want to sleep in a bit."

“Thanks, but I don’t eat breakfast. I’d like to get my bags. And I need to do something about my car.” Beth pushed herself up on her elbows, sighed heavily and looked around the room for a pad of paper. Starting the morning without a to-do list was throwing a kink in her routine already. “I’m sorry. You’ve been very nice to me, but I really have a ton of things to do.”

Charlotte nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll call Cletus up at the station and ask him to tow your car to 'is shop and take a look at it. And I’ll take you to town after I finish cleanin' up from breakfast, so you can get your bags. How does that sound?”

“That’ll work,” Beth replied as she swung her feet over the side of the bed and wiggled her toes in the thick sheepskin rug. She thought for a moment and asked, “This Cletus – is he reputable?”

The housekeeper laughed, “Don’t think I’ve ever heard the term ‘reputable’ connected to that boy, but if you’re asking me if he’ll do you right, he most certainly will. He grew up in these parts and knows better than to try to pull the wool over the eyes of a Jameson!”

“Then I would appreciate it if you would call him,” Beth said as she reached for the white terry robe draped over the foot of the bed. “I’m going to freshen up and then I’ll be down.”

Once she was alone, she swept the gauzy curtains back and took in her first real view of the ranch that she had inherited.

Almost inherited, she reminded herself with a frown. Beau stood at the white wooden fence along the driveway, one booted foot propped on the bottom rail. A beautiful reddish-brown horse with a white blaze down its face stood in front of him, as the man stroked its

neck. The animal’s ears pricked forward, listening intently to the cowboy. The two were sharing a private moment, and it occurred to her that Beau might be talking about her.

But what was he saying? Warning the horse about her arrival? What it felt like to touch her? What she looked like? Or more likely, conspiring about keeping her from getting the ranch.

Her forehead furrowed and she turned away, determined not to care what the ranch manager might or might not be saying about her, to an animal or otherwise. This job would require her full attention and she couldn’t afford to let a man get in the way.

She looked through the big walk-in closet and found a pair of jeans and a plain teal blue t-shirt that would fit. It was better than most of the t-shirts that filled the closet, emblazoned with various local feed store names and farm supply store logos. No Chanel logos here. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would go to the trouble of having a cedar-lined closet, and then fill it with stuff like that.

Once satisfied with her choice of clothing, she stepped into the bathroom, hoping a nice, long shower would help her feel better. The hot water ran over her body, and the shower gel filled the steamy air with a rich peach scent. It felt so good, so tempting to hide in this little oasis, but she had to get out and face the day. She wrapped her wet hair in an Egyptian cotton towel, surprised to see that it was monogrammed with a “J” set in a silver diamond. Very classy. Like the high thread-count sheets, the towels were top-drawer.

From what her mother had told her, her father didn't pay attention to things like Egyptian cotton and thread count. This room had been prepared for a woman – though the main living area of the house had been very masculine, this room had definitely felt a woman’s touch. The mere thought of her father's affairs made her temper flare. No wonder he hadn’t had time to visit his daughter. All his time was spent on this stupid ranch with a parade of women.

A frown creased her forehead as she explored the cabinets, surprised to find a variety of makeup and toiletries. After she had made use of them, and was satisfied that she was presentable, she decided she could put it off no longer. Running the ranch was like running a

business, and she knew how to do that. It was time to get the ball rolling.

She found her way to the kitchen, determined to make a better impression this morning than she had last night. If she had any hope of succeeding at running this place, she would need to earn the employees’ respect – and needed them on her side. Her father had done his best to make that impossible, by pitting her against the one man who could make or break her.

Before she turned the corner, the sound of a woman humming greeted her. She smiled as she recognized it as a Blake Shelton tune. The huge kitchen table would easily sit at least a dozen people. A beautiful crocheted lace doily runner ran the length of the table, topped with a large stoneware crock filled with a rainbow of cut flowers.

The housekeeper was alone. Beth suppressed a twinge of disappointment when she realized that she had been hoping Beau would be there. Her chin jutted forward and she entered the room briskly, determined to make the best of the situation she’d been thrust into.

“Wow!” she exclaimed as she ran her hand over the wood, worn smooth with years of use, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kitchen table this big before!”

“Your father was fond of havin' meals here. Lots of good food and good company, he used to say.” Charlotte wiped her hands on the dish towel and untied her apron. “Can I talk you into some breakfast now, child?”

Good food and good company that she hadn’t been included in. Beth squashed the pang of jealousy and glanced around, until she spotted the coffee maker. “No, thank you. Did you call the mechanic about my car?”

Charlotte pointed to the mugs hanging from hooks under the cabinets. “I did. Said he’d already seen it and towed it to town.”

“I see.” The fact that someone would tow her car before he was asked to irritated her, but she bit her lip. Better to keep her thoughts to herself for the moment. She poured herself a thick cup of coffee, then looked at the black liquid that bore no resemblance to her usual morning fix. “Did he say how bad it was?”

“No,” said Charlotte as she flipped the coffee maker off. “Thought you’d want to discuss that with him yourself. You need cream or sugar?”

Beth nodded and the other woman pointed at a red canister marked sugar. “Help yourself to the sugar. Half ‘n half’s in the ‘fridge, top shelf. Got to go feed the cats – back in a minute.”

The small wooden scoop hooked on the side of the sugar canister looked as though it might add the right amount of sugar, but it took some trial and error with the half ‘n half to get the coffee flavored to her satisfaction. When it looked about right, she took a sip and grimaced at the bitterness. Definitely not Starbucks, but she needed the caffeine, so she stood by the sink and looked out the window as she sipped.

The mug was about a third empty when
Charlotte returned. “You ready for Beau to run you to town now?”

"Beau? I thought you were taking me?"

Charlotte turned towards the sink, and concentrated on wiping away an invisible spot. "Oh, no, I need to stay here. The little gal that helps us out during summers is coming by today. I just can't get away. And Beau needed to stop by the vet's again anyway."

Beau appeared in the doorway. "
Charlotte says you need a ride to town."

She nodded.

"Then let's get going. Gotta make hay while the sun's shining."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and opened the back door. It slammed behind him. With a sigh, Beth dumped the remaining coffee in the sink and sat the mug on the counter. The taste stuck with her, probably the same taste that stuck with cowboys out on the range in the old days. Might need to stop at a market while in town to pick up a better quality coffee.

Beau was already in his truck, the motor rumbling softly. She climbed in and Beau backed out of his spot without a word. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was thinking. He was so different than Quinn. There was something earthy

and real about him. Though she was intrigued, she didn't have time for romantic pursuits. She needed to keep her eye on the prize.

On their way to town, Beth watched the sides of the winding blacktop, curious to see where she had wrecked. Sure enough, a short way down the road was a spot where the grass had been smashed down and ruts marked where her car had been. A small sapling leaned awkwardly with a large gash in its trunk. Just about three feet in front of the tire marks was a woven wire fence stretched tightly between thick wooden posts.

“That must be where I wrecked last night.”

“You were lucky. Been goin’ a little faster and you’d a gone right through that fence.”

“With the week I’ve been having, I’m surprised I didn’t.” Beth said, turning back to look at the spot. But, then Beau might not have stopped . . .

“Be glad you didn’t. That’s the pasture where your daddy’s prize polled Hereford bull is. He’d plow you over in the blink of an eye." He glanced over at her and said, "And I would've been pissed if I'd had to go round that bull up in that storm.”

She looked at him, unable to tell if he was serious or teasing her. One corner of his mouth twitched up, but that was the only indication. Silence hung between the two. When they reached the T in the road, Beau paused at the stop sign and pointed to a mobile home with a well-manicured front yard. “That’s where Aidan lives, one of our ranch hands. He’s had a tough go of it, got no family, so after your daddy found out that he was sleeping in his truck, he offered Aidan this little piece of land. Let him pay for it out of his paycheck. That boy is a hard worker, determined as all get out, and he paid it off this past November.”

Beth felt a twinge of jealousy as Beau spoke. So the guy had no family? He was just an employee. What about her father’s family? He hadn’t ever done anything for her. She was blood, for Pete’s sake. While her father helped this ranch hand, she had been struggling, working twenty hours a week clerking to pay for law school. And she was still paying off her student loans.

Beau mistook her silence for encouragement. “Your daddy is always looking out for others. He took me in when he was just a teenager. I thought I was tough as nails, strong-willed and stubborn as a mule." He shook his head and smiled. A dimple appeared in his cheek and Beth felt her knees go weak.

He looked at her and his smile faded. She quickly looked away, but not before she felt heat rising up her cheeks.

He cleared his throat and continued in a husky voice, "Your daddy gave me a chance when I was just a skinny kid. He taught me how to ride, how to understand the horse. That little bunkhouse was my first real home.”

“I didn’t know,” she muttered. How
could
she have known? Her father never talked to her, never called, never texted, never emailed. Nothing.

Beau glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” The man he described seemed nicer and friendlier than the cold, hard father-figure Beth had known. "Charlotte mentioned a girl that works summers at the ranch. Does she live around here, too?"

Beau hooked his thumb over his shoulder and motioned behind them. "We passed their place a while back. Katie's been coming 'round the Diamond J since she could walk. When she got to be a teenager, your daddy gave her a job and when she wanted to go off to college, he wrote a letter of recommendation for her."

"Sounds nice of him," she murmured. Memories of him were ghosts, most of what she knew about him came from her mother.

"Oh, yeah. He made Katie feel right at home. She's always been a gangly thing. Like a new colt. Legs're too long, and she didn't make friends easy. Braces. Pig tails. Parents traveling all over all the time. Poor kid. But your daddy made sure she felt at home here."

Beth nodded slowly. It was as if she was hearing about a total stranger. A total stranger who had treated this man like a son, who wrote letters of recommendation for a neighbor kid. Yet he hadn't done squat for his own daughter. She felt as if she'd been set up for failure.