Jesse (5 page)

Tyler was watching him like a hawk about to snag a fat mouse on the fly. “You didn't stop off at the bank to pick a fight with Mike Baker, did you?”

“Hell no,” Jesse grumbled. “I haven't talked to him since before his sister tried to get her hooks into your hide a little while back.”

Tyler clenched his jaw.

Dylan snickered. “She was persistent. You have to give her that much.”

“Just don't let Emily hear you say that,” Jesse warned. “She's a mite protective of our big brother.”

That had their brother relaxing his facial muscles, easing the tension in his jaw. “Works both ways.”

Jesse picked up on the possibility that there had been trouble in town at the Lucky Star. “Did someone try to break into the club again?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not that we've heard. That new dancer Jolene hired seems to be working out.”

Jesse was ready, willing, and able to step into his brother's shoes—make that spandex briefs—if the ladies over at the Lucky Star needed him, but so far they hadn't needed him to. “Maybe I should call her.”

Tyler grinned. “Jolene is a woman of her word; she'll call if they need you, Bro. Besides,” he said, turning his horse toward home, “things are mighty busy around here. We need you. Jolene understands.”

Bummed that he was the only Garahan who hadn't been up on the stage and the recipient of all of that feminine adoration rankled, but he wouldn't let his brothers know or they'd ride his case mercilessly. Hell, he would if the tables were turned—it's what brothers do.

“No problem.” He waited a moment then followed after his brothers. They hadn't asked about the woman he'd rescued on the way into town. He figured they knew he
wanted
to tell them about Danielle…
the
bastards.
He grinned.

The closer they got to home, the more he was convinced that they were messing with him—what else was new? He was the youngest, low man on the totem pole, the one who always had to ride shotgun so that he could get out and open and shut the gate.

“Hell.”

By the time he'd made it back to the barn, he was only five minutes behind his brothers and the last to care for his horse.

As he walked into the kitchen, Dylan was leaning with his back against the counter and boots crossed at the ankles. “She was a blonde, wasn't she?”

Jesse laughed. He couldn't help it; he'd won their little game because Dylan asked before Jesse could offer any information about the damsel in distress. “And had a way of filling out her jeans that would make a man sit up and beg.”

“That good?” Tyler asked, pulling a casserole dish out of the refrigerator before turning toward Dylan. “What was it that Ronnie said was in this dish again?”

“Stuffed eggplant.”

“Mom never made anything with egg plants in it,” Jesse grumbled.

“It's got nothing to do with eggs, brainless,” Tyler added. “I've only had it breaded and fried. What's it stuffed with?”

Dylan grinned. “Really gooey, tasty cheese. Try it,” he urged his brothers. “It tastes great.”

“That's because Ronnie cooked it.”

Dylan shrugged. “My wife's a great cook.”

The brothers agreed she'd saved them from starvation and Jesse's rotgut chili.

“Yeah,” Jesse said, “but she can't make chili.”

Dylan grinned. “She's been working on perfecting a recipe—just for you.”

“Really? Cool.” Nobody'd done that since their mom had died. Their mom knew what each one of them considered his favorite meal, pie, cake, cookies, snacks, and flavor of soda. She was one in a million. Sometimes he missed her so much, his chest ached.

He rubbed at the dull, hollow feeling creeping inside of him. Hard to believe it had been nearly twenty years since she'd been gone. He'd buried the hurt deep, so it wouldn't catch him off guard as often as it had when he was a kid, but that didn't mean he didn't think about her or feel her loss.

“Hey,” Dylan said, poking him in the back, “you don't need to eat it if you don't want to. There's plenty of leftovers or sandwich fixin's in the fridge.”

Jesse blinked and frowned at his brothers. “Did you try it yet, Tyler?”

“I'm getting to it.”

“It's even good cold,” Dylan said, grabbing a clean fork, spearing the eggplant, and shoving it toward Jesse.

He took it, stared down at it, then shrugged and grabbed the fork. Bold, spicy flavors danced on his tongue, mingling with cold cheese he couldn't identify and what he guessed was the innocuous taste of the eggplant. “Not bad.” He grinned. “It'd probably taste better if we nuked it.” Moving out of striking range of Dylan's long reach, he washed up and dug into the casserole and heaped some on a dish.

With the hot, fragrant plate of cheese-filled eggplant in front of him, Jesse realized that he owed Emily and Ronnie; they'd brought a sense of hearth and home back to the Circle G. The only thing missing was a woman he could call his own.

“Hell,” he mumbled, forking another bite of food into his mouth. “Don't need one.”

Tyler tossed a hunk of bread at Jesse. “What don't you need?”

Jesse saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, reached up, snagged the bread with one hand, and stopped the plate of butter Dylan had slid toward him with unerring accuracy. It was good to be part of the family, even if he was feeling a little left out as of late.

“Nothing. Hey, Dylan, where's Ronnie today?” Jesse asked.

“Getting ready to open up for business next week.”

“The shop looks great,” Jesse said. “If I hadn't seen the damage myself, I never would have believed it.”

Dylan grinned. “It brought the woman I love into my life.”

Tyler chuckled. “And here I thought it was when you tossed your lasso around her.”

“Yeah,” Jesse answered, “and reeled her in!”

Dylan accepted their ribbing good-naturedly. Hell, everything about his brother seemed to be positive and upbeat since he married Ronnie DelVecchio.
Go
figure.

Turning to Tyler he asked, “Is Emily coming home late tonight?”

The satisfied smile on the oldest brother's face should have annoyed him, but instead, he was happy for him.

Tyler finally answered, “I'll be driving into town to pick her up at closing time.”

“What about you, Dylan? Are you driving into town to pick up your wife?” Jesse got a kick out of saying that; she was the first Garahan bride for their generation and kind of cool.

Dylan locked gazes with Tyler, and Jesse knew what his brothers were thinking, planning, and going to be doing a few hours from now. “Damn!”

“Go find your own woman,” Dylan said.

“Maybe I've already found one.”

“Really?” Tyler tried to sound disinterested, but Jesse could tell he finally had the attention of both brothers. No small feat.

“Hey, I already told you all about her.”

“The hell you did,” Dylan grumbled. “Wait—was this the damsel you saved this morning riding into town?”

Jesse smiled. “So you were listening.”

“Hell, Jess,” Tyler ground out. “We always hear you. Sometimes we pay attention.”

Dylan leaned back in his chair. “So she's blonde, curvy, and pretty?”

“'Bout covers it,” Jesse said, “well, except for little Lacy.”

“She has a pet named Lacy?”

Jesse grinned and pushed away from his place, sighing in contentment because the food had been great and filled the hole in his belly. “Nope, a little pink cowgirl. I need one of you to follow me to Sullivan's so I can drop off her car.”

His brothers grinned at one another, and Tyler drawled, “It'll cost you, Bro.”

It was after ten when they dropped off the car.

Riding to her uncle's house, Danielle was thinking about how much her life had changed since the last time she'd stayed with her uncle. She'd finished school, graduated with honors, met and married the love of her life, and was a mom.

But what she'd felt for her ex paled in comparison to the residual effect the tall, dark, and handsome cowboy who'd rescued them had on her. But right now wasn't a good time to let herself be distracted by another cowboy. She had more important things in her life to worry about now: Lacy, first and foremost. Everything else just wasn't important.

But the dark-eyed, dreamy cowboy filled her mind again, and for a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms again. That brief touch, when he'd reached out to save Lacy from falling out of Danielle's arms, was imprinted on her heart. He'd been strong, solid, and larger than life—heaven help her, it felt as if they belonged there.

But there were things to consider, other than where she'd begin if she had Jesse all to herself for just ten minutes… you could pack a lifetime into ten minutes. But would she really have the nerve to ask him to park his boots under her bed? The image of his broad-shouldered frame standing in the doorway to her bedroom had her breath catching and her heart tumbling.

“Mommy?” Lacy tugged on her sleeve. “When will we get there?”

Danielle buried the image and glanced over at her uncle. “Five minutes?” She waited for a sign from him that she had been right.

He smiled. “You still remember.”

She reached across Lacy's head to lay her hand on his forearm. “I spent the best summers of my life here with you.”

It had always been that easy for her; their relationship had been based on love and trust from the time she was old enough to toddle into his waiting arms… and then he fed her pie. Life without pie wasn't any kind of life at all. For those that hadn't experienced manna from heaven—aka Sullivan's chocolate pie à la mode—it was something that could not be explained. One had to experience firsthand the taste sensation of flaky perfection filled with smooth chocolatey goodness, finished off with his special whipped topping, a combination of crème fraîche—which tastes similar to sour cream but not quite as sour—and heavy cream.

Perfection. There just wasn't anything else that she could think of to explain the tasty goodness and sensation of the chocolate filling melting on her tongue.

“Mommy?” Lacy asked as they turned onto the familiar road.

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“Can we go to the Circle G tonight? I wanna see cowboy Jesse.”

Her heart stopped, then slowly, painfully, started beating again. Why should the mere mention of the man's name affect her? She swallowed and shook her head. “Not tonight. Jesse had work to do and didn't have time to give us a tour of the ranch, remember?”

Lacy's sigh was loud enough to have Danielle and her uncle looking at one another and grinning. “But I wanna learn to ride a horse.”

Danielle was amazed that Lacy remembered the name of Jesse's ranch but not surprised; her daughter listened to everyone and everything around her, sometimes hearing things Danielle wished she hadn't. Hoping to redirect Lacy's line of questioning, she asked, “How about if we promise to visit Jesse out at his ranch, but wait for him to call us?”

“Do you know his number?”

Danielle laughed, while her uncle asked, “Little June bug, do you always pester your momma like that?”

Lacy stopped squirming on the seat and gave her undivided attention to her great-uncle.

“I just want to see him again, Unca Jimmy.”

“I've known him a lot of years and am pleased to say that he has worked hard to overcome the first impression I had of him.”

“Really?” Danielle asked. “What did he do to give you a bad impression?”

He smiled and shook his head as he pulled into the driveway.

Since he wasn't going to answer, she reminded Lacy, “Besides, it isn't polite to just show up somewhere without an invitation.” She hoped that would be the end of it, but the man was a definite distraction.

“But he did invite us, 'member?”

Danielle sighed. Obviously she wasn't the only one captivated by their cowboy hero. “He did, but he also said he'd pick us up. So let's just wait for him to call us, OK?”

“We're here,” her uncle announced, getting out of his truck.

Danielle and Lacy slid across the seat and got out, walking hand-in-hand up the front porch steps. A wave of nostalgia swept up from her toes, and from an adult point-of-view, she realized just how wonderful it had been to be able to spend summer vacations in Pleasure, her home away from home.

“Why don't you ladies go on in and make yourselves at home?” Her uncle grabbed the two bags they had brought with them.

“You've already made us feel that way,” Danielle reminded him. “How about if I see what's in your fridge and decide what to make you for dinner? You've been cooking since sunup, haven't you?”

His grin said it all and transported her back in time. No matter what happened during those long days of summer, he had the patience of a saint and a smile that would set hearts aflutter—well, at least that was what some of the ladies downtown used to say.

“How come you never married?”

He paused on the stairs and looked over his shoulder. “No one asked me.” Laughing, he made his way to the second floor. He'd probably put their things in the back bedroom, where the morning sun would peek in their window and wake them.

“How come nobody asked Unca Jimmy to marry them?” Lacy was frowning up at her. “I like him.”

“I don't know. He is a good man and would make a good husband.” Opening the fridge, she contemplated the contents and decided she would pick up some groceries for her uncle in the morning. Tonight, they'd feast on leftovers. Pulling a few containers out, she was surprised to see Lacy staring at the staircase.

“Hey, don't worry, sweet pea,” she soothed, setting the food on the counter. “We'll be all right.”

“I was thinking 'bout Daddy,” she said without turning around. “Was he a good husband?”

Danielle paused to consider her words carefully. She didn't want to say something that her little girl would misconstrue. Her relationship with her ex had been difficult toward the end, but he was still Lacy's father. Walking over to where Lacy stood, she knelt down so they were eye level. “He was the best he knew how to be. We can't ever ask anyone to do more.”

Her daughter seemed satisfied with the answer. “Maybe Unca Jimmy wanted to bake pies and sell them more than he wanted to be married.”

Relieved that Lacy understood, she agreed. “He makes the best pie.”

“The secret is in the crust,” his deep voice called out from the top of the stairs. “You two look as if you are either plotting to take over the world,” he said, walking into the kitchen, “or planning to meddle in my life.”

“We were talking about Daddy.”

“Ah.” He looked at the containers lining the countertop and then back at Danielle and Lacy. “Hungry, ladies?”

Grateful for the distraction, Danielle answered, “Well, not really, but I thought it would help to know what I could either heat up or cook for dinner. You worked at the diner half the day, it's my turn.”

“You know, Lacy,” her uncle said, turning toward his grandniece, “this is just one of the things I love about your mommy—her willingness to pitch right in and get to work.”

Lacy scrunched her face up and Danielle knew her daughter was considering her uncle's words. “Mommy always works hard, Daddy says too hard.” When she grew quiet and frowned, Danielle knew it was time for a major distraction. Lacy had already cried buckets when her ex walked out of their lives. She would do everything in her power to keep a smile on her daughter's face.

The promised trip to visit the Circle G would be perfect, now if only the cowboy would keep his word. Hope blossomed in Danielle's heart. It was a good start.

***

Jesse wandered out to the barn to make sure the horses were bedded down for the night. A rancher always took good care of his animals, especially the mount who worked with him every day, all day. He remembered a couple of ranch hands who had worked for his grandfather when he was younger, who hadn't followed along with old Hank's rules about caring for the Circle G's horses.

Once a ranch hand broke a rule, he was gone, no second chances. As far as his grandfather was concerned, if you didn't take proper care of the horse you rode, you could take your sorry hide elsewhere and find work. Funny thing was, once a ranch hand was let go from the Circle G, no one else would hire him—or ask why he was let go. The town of Pleasure respected Patrick Henry Garahan. It was that simple. Hank had let the ranch hand go and that was reason enough not to hire him.

Jesse had checked the horses earlier but made the rounds one last time. “Plenty of fresh water,” he said aloud to Dodge. His horse whinnied softly, pushing against Jesse's shoulder. He reached out and stroked the broad handsome face that watched him, the wisdom of the ages in his luminous, dark eyes.

He always felt better after talking to his horse. “I can't help but be jealous of my brothers.” Dodge nudged him again. “How do I know I haven't already met ‘the one' and lost her?” Slumping his shoulders he turned to go, but his horse had other ideas, grabbing the back of Jesse's worn cotton shirt with his equine teeth.

Momentarily confused, he stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. The sound of fabric tearing had him sighing. “Damn it, Dodge,” he grumbled. “That was my last clean shirt.” Knowing his horse had an irascible temperament—just like his own—he retraced his steps and scratched the horse behind his ears. When he butted up against Jesse's chest, he knew what Dodge wanted—more one-on-one time. With no other chores left for the night, he gave his horse his full attention.

“Are you sure you weren't female in a former life?”

The horse snorted and Jesse laughed as Dodge bathed Jesse's face with hot, moist horse-breath. He remembered the first time he sat on a horse, his grandfather had lifted him up to sit in front of his dad in the saddle. Jesse had known right there and then that no matter where in Texas he lived, he would always own at least one horse. His life wouldn't be worth spit if he didn't have one of those strong, graceful, hardworking animals in his life.

Thinking about riding with his dad had him smiling and suddenly his mind detoured and settled on a little pink cowgirl who waited
all
her life to meet a
real
cowboy
. Still stroking the blaze between Dodge's eyes, Jesse's mind changed direction and settled on a sweetly curved divorcée with tawny blonde hair and soft blue eyes. “Trouble ahead, Dodge,” he murmured, giving his horse one last pat.

“Just because I saved Danielle from serious injury earlier today is no reason to be thinking about her.” But while he walked through the barn, double-checking latches on the stalls, his thoughts kept returning to the two damsels in distress who'd fallen asleep on the truck ride over to Sullivan's Diner. He slowly grinned, remembering the sound of their soft snores filling the cab of his truck. Struck by the thought that he wanted to see them again, he started going over the next day's never-ending list of chores in his head, all the while wondering how he could wheedle a chunk of time out of his day to drive on into town to pick them up… because he couldn't wait to show them around the Circle G tomorrow.

His head told him to slow down, but his heart told him to downshift and gas it, because even though there were dangerous curves ahead, he knew they'd be sugar-sweet and just ripe for the tasting. “Whoa!” he mumbled aloud coming to a halt. “Hell.” That's what women were on your heart, and other parts of your body, once they moved on to greener pastures. That was the one lesson he learned when Lori left him for the second time.

Walking back over to the house, he decided he wasn't ready to turn in yet, so he settled on the porch swing and gently pushed off. The soothing motion, moving back and forth in the cool night air, was just what he needed. He remembered the night and the fight that had smashed the slats of the bench apart. He was glad Dylan had been able to repair the gift their father had built for their mother before he'd been deployed; if he hadn't, the guilt would have eaten them both alive.

Life was precious. He and his brothers had learned as children that it didn't matter if you were ready for what lay ahead of you or not; sometimes life came at you with both barrels, and as his grandfather often said,
“Best you be ready, boys.”

But was he ready for the subtle changes a certain divorcée and her little girl might make in his life? His body stood at attention and said
, Hell yeah
, but his heart put up both hands and said,
Whoa!

Distracted, disturbed, and discouraged, Jesse stopped swinging. “A cold one would be good right now.”

As he walked to the back door, a feminine moan of ecstasy drifted toward him on the night breeze. He gritted his teeth and reached for the door. He missed the soft touch of a woman but it probably wouldn't kill him. Admitting that it had been a while longer than either of his brothers thought wouldn't happen in this lifetime. After all, a Garahan had his pride to think of—that and his reputation in certain circles in town.

He slammed the back door and felt perversely better for having given it an extra push. Grabbing a hold of the refrigerator door handle, he yanked and pulled it open. He knew he should calm down, but the frustration had been building inside of him for about a month now. He'd known something was up, but Lori hadn't wanted to confide in him… and then she was gone.

Opening the bottle, he tipped his head back and drained a third of the bottle in one big gulp. “Damn shame that I couldn't have fallen in love with someone like Emily or Ronnie.”