Drawn to a Cowboy (Brother Duet #1) (5 page)

I smiled at her apology. “Let’s get you to bed. We get started early around here. I meant, let’s get you set up in your room.”
Not really.
I wanted her in my cabin, but I was safer with her in the barn. I knew she would never see the guest room if I were to take her to my home. I wanted her in my bed. I wanted her with me.

Jade

T
ake me to bed. Hell, yes, hot stuff!
When he said I would be staying in the barn, my mind ran to images of sleeping on bales of hay with a horse blanket thrown over the top of me. The room he helped me take my luggage to was far better than what I had envisioned. It was truly a great space complete with a partial view of the lake, according to my new handsome boss, and I did have my own commode and sink. The actual bathing accommodations were about the only downfall, sharing a dorm style shower with six men was not the best. However, with the right timing it would work. I had to say, it was better than some of the surf camps I had hosted.

Most of the surfer girls were a bunch of slobs. At least the ones I was stuck with had been. I never had a room to myself. Mainly, the houses we rented were outfitted with bunk beds, dorm living. One of the biggest surprises to me was how much women could eat, so much it was gross. No boys around equaled pig out time. Not only were their dining habits abominable, let me just say that the ocean should not serve as a substitute for showering. Stinky girls, hairy legs and armpits, no deodorant—not a pretty picture to paint or smell. Fortunately, they were all very nice.

Another true plus was, like with the ranch, the locations were spectacular. Gorgeous beaches with incredible wave sets. And while the houses were awesome minus the sleeping arrangements, rooming close to cowboys seemed more welcoming compared to girls on a surfing safari. One cowboy in particular made this job opportunity seem like the best decision I’d made in a long time, maybe ever. I couldn’t wait to get up the next morning and get busy.
Get busy.
Those two words contributed to some lovely naked cowboy daydreams. Ones that I feared would turn my face bright red when I saw him for breakfast.

Climbing out of bed the next morning, I made sure the coast was clear. Then I locked the shower room door, and popped in for a quick cleansing. Dressed in a pair of shorts, t-shirt and my red boots, I tossed my phone and sketch book into a drawstring bag. Not in a hurry, I took my time walking to the main lodge. Sage was right, I could see a portion of the lake out my window when I opened it before leaving. Outside, the air was so clean and crisp with a hint of bacon lofting about. It was still pretty early, some guests were probably just waking, maybe still lounging in bed. A few human voices could be heard speaking softly mixed along with animal sounds.

In one corral, I saw a little girl sitting atop a pony being led around along the rail. Her adorable giggles reminded me of one of my favorite Saturday morning rituals. I’m guessing, but I was probably about the same age when my grandfather used to take me to a place that had a pony ring. Seated on a leather saddle of the first available pony, I went round and round. Though we went absolutely nowhere, I thought it was the best thing ever, I was a real cowgirl. I always wished that I would’ve been allowed to wear my cowgirl ensemble: boots, hat and belt with hip holsters holding two western-style cap guns. If I’d been dressed the part it would’ve made my pony ride even better. It was my usual outfit at home when I could get away with it—my favorite cowgirl couture since I was in diapers and toddling around, according to photos and stories.

Entering the dining room with a smile on my face, I was greeted by a smiling Norma as she strolled out with a cup of coffee. “Someone’s happy today. I’m heading down the hall to the office, I’ll let Sage know you’re having breakfast now.” I thanked her as I continued on into the dining area to an available table. Pulling out my sketch book along with a mechanical pencil, I started making a list along with a couple of flower doodles thinking (those always helped my brainstorming, released the flow), while I waited for my order. Sipping coffee, I sketched a few ideas that came to me on my little walk over to the lodge—I really didn’t have a good feel, yet.

I knew I needed to see inside the cabins and more of the property, but it seemed that there was something that mattered more. What was the ranch all about? What was its history? I skimmed through some of the brochures that I picked up by the front desk. The colorful pages listed what the ranch had to offer along with a few other recreational places in the area. I wondered if they networked with other businesses. There was so much I needed to know since Sage said he wanted my opinion.

“What’s all this? What are you scribbling there?” a certain sexy cowboy asked pointing to my makeshift work station, before he sat down, and opened a laptop across from me.

I glanced up from his slightly snug jeans to his gorgeous face that was a bit less than perfect, graced with stubble. He looked appetizing, better than anything they were offering on the menu or in any of the brochures I had been perusing. “Trying to get my brain working this morning. What do you have to show me?”

Flipping his computer screen to face me, he began to speak all businesslike. “Basically we are a ranch. At one time it was more of a dude ranch. As time has moved on, our guests have wanted more. The onsite activities we offer are: roping, cattle wrangling, hayrides, horseback riding, that includes overnight camping with horses, and on foot, we also offer camping along with backpacking, hiking, birdwatching. We recently added a playground for kids to the grounds, mountain biking, zip lining, kayaking and paddle surfing.

The offsite activities that we have connections with are: sailing, fishing, and boat rentals. For our guests that wish to go on day trips, we set up transportation to various places, some of the most popular are: a vintage train ride, a national park visit, a wine tour, and river rafting.” He rattled all of that off while clicking around to different pages, showing me everything. It was difficult to decide which was more appealing to look at, him or the screen.

Since I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell him how gorgeous he was, I went with complimenting his laptop view. “Nice website.”
Nice lips! I’d like to lick them. Nice thick brown hair! I’d like to run my fingers through it.
However, I will admit I might have been looking directly at him rather than the screen. It was certain, I was busted I realized as he tapped the computer screen thanking me for the compliment. Funny that his thanking me timed perfectly with my thoughts, though of course, he seemed to be telling me to pay attention. I wanted to laugh, instead I forced myself to focus as he moved on.

“These are the cabins,” he said showing me photos of each of the ten cabins. All of them were very nice, but I was baffled that the last one was numbered as cabin eleven.
Hmmm… perhaps something happened to one? Don’t worry about that, Jade, pay attention, you’re missing things. God, don’t let there be a pop quiz.
I giggled to myself, it didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll show you the exterior of all the cabins—I guarantee there is nothing funny about them—and the new construction that is underway. You’ve seen the interiors here on the website.”

He looked at me strangely as he took another drink from his cup, then closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm. “I’m going to drop this in my office, then we’ll head out.” He was probably running away from the loony woman he picked up in a gas station. Maybe asking Norma how to get rid of me, but within a matter of minutes he was back, standing above me with his cowboy hat in place atop his beautiful head. “Ready to head outside?”

“Sounds great,” I said gathering my things, rising up from my chair.
Get a grip, girl! You’re only seeing the exteriors. There will be no hanky panky inside any of the cabins for you! What is wrong with you! He’s not the first cowboy you’ve ever seen. Oh, but look at that ass, grab or bite?

Walking through the lobby after he’d shown me around the public areas of the lodge, he stopped and looked around, luckily, I caught myself or I would’ve crashed into him. “You’ve seen the office, dining room, kitchen, front desk, and lobby with the fireplace, if you think we should include new paintings in any of these areas, let me know what you have in mind.”

What did I have in mind?
He’s asking about paintings. Focus!
Well, there was so much to paint. Everything interested me as I took inventory gazing around off in the distance; a few surrounding cabins that varied in size and shape, picnic benches, horse corrals, barn quarters, stables, piles of hay, wild grasses and flowers, livestock, and greenhouses. I seemed to always see the possibility of a painting anywhere I looked since I was a child. With crayons I made crude drawings as children often do.

It wasn’t until high school that I began to study art. I loved it so much that I applied to college as a fine art major. After I graduated, I went back to working at the Cowboy-unga Surf Shop. In addition to my regular job, I painted on the side, and my grandfather sold my art in the store until a couple local galleries approached us. Deciding to accept one of their offers of representation, they took over selling my creations in my beach town. While, thanks to my friend Lark’s art world friends, the well-known ODE Gallery in LA sold several pieces of my artwork as well. I was beyond pleased to be selling, but I wanted more—only I wasn’t sure what. Then one day while I was up in the Art District (near the Los Angeles County Art Museum), delivering a couple new pieces to the ODE, I overheard some people suggesting a pilgrimage to Paris. That sparked some interest in me. Back home on my computer, I looked up the advance painting courses abroad that I had heard them mention.

Accepted into the highly acclaimed art school, with an apartment secured, I boarded a plane for a new adventure; New York and then on to Paris. People that knew me, were shocked that cowgirl me was going to Paris, France to study and not to Paris, Texas. They didn’t understand, it didn’t really matter what I preferred to paint, Paris was a rite of passage.
What art major hadn’t been taught that some of the greatest artists all dreamt of going to Paris to study, and to exhibit?

In the City of Lights for two years, I photographed things that reminded me of cowboys and western living. My classmates—and the women that I ended up working with in a vintage clothing shop—liked to tease me, but I didn’t care. As long as I painted in the techniques that were being taught, my instructors didn’t care what subjects I painted. After a while, my Parisian friends would often text me images if they found someone wearing a cowboy hat in the City.

I enjoyed side trips on weekends to the French countryside. I often packed an overnight bag along with a portable painting board, watercolor paints, and brushes, then headed off to explore. Giverny and Versailles were enjoyable day trips, but my favorite was when I was invited to stay for a week at the Pinard Vineyard in the South of France by my landlord. A week of painting vines, lavender fields, tractors, horses and workers that often wore cowboy hats, I felt right at home—well, as much as I could feel there.

After my time was up in Paris, I was ready to get back home, or at least to the states. The need, the want, the desire to live in the countryside still existed. Surfing the ocean, as well as the internet daily, I stumbled upon the hotel painting job, and jumped to accept it. Though the gig hadn’t worked out as planned, there was some promise at the ranch, in more ways than one. The views were definitely a plus; a beautiful countryside and a lovely country boy’s backside.

It was time to put on my professional thinking cap as we exited the main lodge, for me to get an actual view of the ranch grounds. There was so much to see spread out over several acres between a lake in one direction and a mountain range on the other side. Walking down the steps, I let out a little squeal as a few chipmunks scurried around my feet before jumping between beautiful pink rocks that I learned were indigenous to the area. “Better get used to them, you’ll find them in just about every rock pile around here, they’re totally harmless. However, the bears and large bucks that occasionally wander onto the ranch are to be avoided at all cost.”

“I’ll make a mental note of that. Thanks for instilling fear in me.” I loved his throaty laugh.
Sexy man, you are going to be the death of me.

We made our way around to each numbered cabin on the property. I was baffled again by one of them, or maybe I should say the lack of one. The cabins were not randomly numbered, one after another they were arranged. And then when I saw where the missing bunk should’ve been, I was curious. “Did number five burn down?” I asked pointing to a sign that read “Cabin Five” and pointed to an open field where all that sat was a park bench.

“The site has an outstanding view from that bench.” We walked up to it and I silently read the inscription on a plate attached to the back of it, “May be claimed by the love of my life or my daughter.” Then I looked around, both mountain and lake views were visible—the location was a perfect spot for a house or a cabin.