To Court a Cowgirl (11 page)

Nothing in Jason's career or schooling had prepared him to field forty-five minutes of questions from a panel of four—none of whom seemed that thrilled with him or his accomplishments.

Over the years he'd done the occasional sports show interview and had met with various company representatives to discuss possible endorsements, but those people had wanted something from him. They weren't trying to weed him out of the pack so that they had fewer candidates to choose from. And, according to the rather dour lady in charge of compliance, they had a large field of qualified applicants. By the end of the interview, Jason was very much aware that he'd been interviewed as a courtesy, because he was an alumni. Because Coach had called in a favor.

Not a good feeling.

In fact, it was depressing.

Jason packed up his laptop and headed for his truck. He'd appreciated Allie's offer to interview in the privacy of her home, but ultimately had asked Kate if he could use her place while she played gin with Max. Now he was glad he'd done that so that he had some time to come to grips with his new reality—the reality in which he wasn't all that important to the world at large—before going to work with Zach, who was a rather observant kid and not shy about sharing his observations.

Damn it, he'd thought he'd had a pretty good handle on things—the reality of what was possible and what wasn't—but now he had a small taste of how Pat must have felt after rejection after rejection. A very small taste. Pat was a performer who thrived on being the center of attention. Jason didn't need that, but he was fairly used to being valued for his abilities. Now that the interview was over, he was wondering if he possessed any marketable skills at all. The Brandt panel had not been encouraging.

He stowed the laptop and started the truck, waiting for a car to pass before backing out onto the street. So what now?

More résumés. More interviews. There was something out there for him.

He didn't want to work just anywhere. He wanted the job at Brandt.

* * *

W
ELL
,
IT
HAD
certainly been a day.

Allie headed up the walk to her front door feeling totally wrung out. After story hour had gotten out of hand, Allie scheduled a sit-down with the principal, who assured her that, oh, it was always difficult to control twenty-five kindergarteners when their teacher wasn't present. Allie wasn't lacking—she simply needed practice in classroom management. And she was getting better!

“It's a knack,” Mrs. Wilson-Jones had reiterated.

A knack that Allie didn't come by naturally. Nor one that she necessarily wanted to develop...and it was killing her. Then to add more joy to her day, she'd thought she'd seen Kyle's truck parked on the street near the school as she and Liz and Margaret, the kindergarten teacher, had walked to their cars. The truck pulled into the street as they reached Allie's car, leaving her to wonder if there were two light-blue F-350s with cab lights in town, or if Kyle had not wanted to approach her while she was with friends. Whatever the case, Allie found herself checking her rearview mirror every few blocks until she left town and, by the time she got home, she was irritated and tired and drove past the barn site without stopping to check on Jason and Zach's progress, although she did note that the two of them looked a lot more satisfied with life than she felt at that moment.

What did Kyle want? She'd been clear about having no money and not cosigning a loan, so what? Maybe he thought he could wear her down.

That was probably it. Kyle could be tenacious, as long it didn't involve following through on ranch repairs and improvements.

Feeling restless, Allie changed her clothes and left the house, following the path to her sad little garden spot. Oh, the hope she'd poured into this patch of ground. She'd had some good harvests when she and Kyle were first married, but as her day job and ranch chores ate into her time, her garden had suffered. Her marriage had suffered.

As did she.

But that part of her life was over and her garden spot was still here, overgrown with weeds. Stepping over the low fence, she bent down and pulled a handful of dry grass and weeds and tossed it over the fence. Another handful followed and then another. By the time Jason showed up, she had a good quarter of the space cleared and she was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't hear him until he was almost at the fence.

“Oh. Hi.” She pushed the hood back from her head. “How'd the interview go?”

Jason shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Time will tell.”

“I see.” And she did. The interview hadn't gone as he'd expected. He might be putting on his inscrutable man-face, but Allie could sense his tension.

“Gardening?”

“For the first time in about five years. I have some work ahead of me.”

“Want some help?”

She almost said no. She always said no. It was a habit she wanted to break. “Sure.”

Jason stepped over the fence much more easily than she had, bent down and started pulling weeds out of the damp ground. “Couldn't you till the weeds in?”

“We could, but I'm working out a few frustrations.”

“Huh. I may put in a garden.”

“Your dad?”
Or the interview?

He hesitated just long enough before saying “Yes,” to make Allie certain that the interview hadn't been a slam dunk...or maybe he just didn't know if he wanted the job. Yes. That seemed more likely.

“You?”

My ex-husband is driving me crazy.

“I'm seriously wondering about what I want to be when I grow up.”

From the look he gave her, she knew that he was reading her as easily as she was reading him. And what did that say about them? That they were closely tuned into one another?

She was certainly tuned into him. How could she not be when he was so close that she was aware of every move he made?

“The teaching thing isn't working out?”

“I have serious doubts about teaching little kids and the only jobs listed are for elementary.” She tugged on the thick stalk of a volunteer sunflower, slowly easing the roots out of the soil. “I also have a secondary credential, but it's in art. It's where I did my student teaching and I loved teaching art, but it's practically impossible to get a high school art job with budget cuts. I need another secondary endorsement. Social studies. Math. English. Something of ‘value.'”

“Do you like little kids?”

Allie pushed the hair from her cheek with the back of her wrist. “That's the problem. I do...so much so that I let them get away with murder.” She reached down and yanked a weed. “They're cute, you know. The lower grade teachers use library time to prepare for their classes, and when they leave the library...well, the word
mayhem
comes to mind.”

Jason gave a soft snort, but Allie couldn't tell if he was laughing or commiserating. He stood up and tossed two handfuls of weeds onto the pile on the other side of the fence. “Can you make a living here on the ranch?”

“I don't see that happening.” She spoke too quickly, sounded too defensive, so she made an effort to scale back her adamant response. “My sisters will be coming back.”

“Only one will live on the ranch, right?”

“Yes. Dani and Gabe will live in the Staley house.”

There was a long stretch of silence and then Jason said, “It's not just your sister coming back to live here, is it?”

“No.” And that was as far as she was willing to go with that line of questioning.

“Personally, I think it's a mistake to do something you don't feel any passion for.”

“Easy enough to say when you haven't worked in the real world before.” Allie looked up at Jason. “I'm sorry to sound harsh, but it's true.”

The expression that chased across his face made her wish she hadn't said anything. It appeared that Jason
was
getting a taste of the real world—the world where actual professional credentials counted.

“Maybe so.” He yanked up a handful of weeds. “But I stand by what I say.”

“I have a passion,” she said lowly, pushing back the prickles of guilt as she went back to work. “A passion for survival, a secure future and money in the bank. I have never found that ranching could give me that.”

“Yet you wouldn't even consider selling me the ranch.”

Allie nearly tumbled over backward pulling a particularly stubborn plant, and Jason put his hand on the small of her back, steadying her until she regained her balance. She felt the warmth of his palm through her shirt. “It isn't mine to sell.”

“What if it were?”

She stopped pulling weeds, but stayed crouched where she was for a moment. What if? “Yes, you could have it.”

“Even though it's been in your family since it was homesteaded?”

“I have no tender feelings for this place.” She tossed another handful of weeds over the fence, then wiped her muddy hands on her pants. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What's eating at you?”

“I told you.”

“I don't think so.” Bold move, but it would get him onto a different track.

His expression cooled and Allie realized that she'd just hit a brick wall. There would be no secrets shared tonight.

Fine with her. It made going into her house alone that much easier.

She stepped over the fence and had just made it to the other side when Jason took hold of her upper arm, keeping her from moving any farther. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For telling you what to do with your future, when I'm still figuring out mine.”

Excellent point, but she barely registered the logic as heat flared inside of her. There was something about the way he was looking at her—or rather her mouth—that made alarm bells go off in her head. But she did not step back and less than a second later, his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair, holding her face as he kissed her. Stunned her. Made her knees go wobbly. When he raised his head, Allie had assumed some witty remark would spring to her lips.

Nothing.

All she could think was that she really wanted him to apologize again. She pushed her hands up over his very hard chest, the picket fence separating them pressing into her thighs.

“Do you want to talk about that future?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because it involves someone else.”

Allie's heart hit her ribs. “Do you have a girlfriend, Jason?”

“No.”

“I shouldn't feel so relieved by that,” she muttered as she dropped her hands and stepped back.

“Why not?”

She gave a small scoffing laugh. “Because I'm working extremely hard to be self-sufficient and someone like you could throw a monkey wrench into that.” And judging by the deep urge she had to step over the fence and kiss him again, that was a true danger.

“Someone like me?”

She simply gave a shrug. How was she supposed to explain things when she was still figuring them out?

“Have you dated since your divorce?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing slightly as she did her best to hide the fact that her stomach had just somersaulted. “I'll take that under advisement.”

“Let me know when you do.”

She worked up a smirk. “You'll be the first.”

CHAPTER NINE

Y
OU
'
LL
BE
THE
FIRST
.

Allie's reply had been dry, loaded with snark, but he'd seen the uncertain look on her face after they'd kissed. The whoa-something-else-to-screw-up-my-life look.

He wasn't going to screw up her life. They'd only kissed and it'd been a long time coming.

He wanted to kiss her again.

His mouth quirked wryly as he covered the distance to his truck, which was parked near the demolition site. She might have thought he was yet another complication in her life, but she'd also responded to the kiss...and given him something to think about besides his next move.

What was he going to do?

Pursue other colleges. Maybe go back and get his master's—although he'd probably forgotten more than he remembered about his bachelor's degree in physical therapy. And he didn't even want to work in that field.

He and Allie had more in common than she knew. Neither of them knew what their next step would be if the current one didn't work out.

Jason got into the truck and turned the key. He wasn't going to stagnate. New horizons. If Brandt didn't pan out he'd apply elsewhere, volunteer, whatever it took to get the experience he was so clearly lacking.

* * *

A
LLIE
PACED
THROUGH
the house. The problem with living alone was that it gave a person too much time to think—about good things, bad things.

Hot things.

She'd kissed Jason Hudson yesterday—or he'd kissed her. One of the two. It felt pretty damned mutual, actually. She touched her fingers to lips. The guy could kiss—and that had been just a small kiss. What would it be like if he put his heart into it?

Allie felt like fanning herself, and that was a bad sign. Could she really afford to let things like this happen when she was still trying to get her life back on track?

Hell. No.

She pushed her hands through her hair as she stopped at her desk and regarded the pile of bills there. Her student loan was due tomorrow and she'd just received the news today at work that because of a computer error—which she suspected was actually human error—her information hadn't been loaded into the system in time for her to receive a check this pay period. The accounting department was very sorry for the inconvenience.

Allie took a couple more paces around the room. Inconvenience.

Now she'd have to rob the ranch fund to survive, which always made her feel anxious. She and Kyle had tapped the ranch fund so many times in the name of survival that there'd been nothing left for a major emergency. She'd paid back as much as she could afford to after divorcing Kyle, but it'd be a long time until she'd be able to pay back what she truly owed and now she had to use the fund again, when it was already taking a hit from barn demolition.

Her head was throbbing by the time she went to bed. There was no way around using the fund, but she truly hated being in financial straits. Again.

* * *

J
ASON
WAS
PRETTY
sure that Allie was avoiding him. She didn't check the progress on the barn for two days and he'd found his weekly paycheck on the seat of his truck, where Allie had left it when she'd briefly stopped on her way to work that morning. Before she was due to write him another check a week from today, the barn would be gone and he'd have nowhere to spend his days. Of course, he'd also no longer have to put up with a sullen teen.

So what was he going to do after the last bit of scrap had been loaded on the truck he'd borrowed from his father's construction business?

Brandt hadn't called and while he told himself that no news was good news, a small voice in his head countered with the fact that no news meant they were not done interviewing candidates.

All he wanted to do was to make the first cut—and then get the job. That was it. First cut. Second cut. Job.

Future. Nailed down.

He was looking forward to that, especially after the past few challenging evenings with his dad, who'd come to the conclusion that the doctors were being overly cautious. Translation—he was starting to feel well enough to be bulletproof again, as he'd been before the heart attack, when his doctor had told him his lifestyle had to change, or else.

The “or else” had happened.

“Hey, Jason.”

Zach rarely called him by name, so this had to be a moment of import.

“Yeah?”

“A cow's gone down. I'm going to check her.” Zach was always watching the herd, and Jason had found himself doing the same, but he hadn't noticed the cow that had wandered off on her own.

“I'll come, too.” It'd been a while since he'd been grossed out by a birth and if things went south, Zach might need help—help that he was fairly certain the kid wouldn't ask for.

Zach gave him a quick frown, then shrugged. “Sure.” His surliness quotient had dropped maybe half a point over the past day or two, and Jason considered that to be significant progress. By the time the barn was demolished, they might even have a conversation that consisted of more than three or four words each.

“Do we need to have anything at the ready?” Jason asked.

“I don't think so.” In his preoccupation with the cow, Zach had forgotten to snap out his reply and Jason felt a twinge of satisfaction. Yes. Progress.

The cow went on alert and struggled to her feet as the gate banged shut, but Zach ignored her as he walked purposefully to the small holding pen behind the barn. Jason closed the gate and followed.

“We won't bother her as much here.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, she went back down to her knees, then flopped over onto her side.

“And now we wait.”

Jason leaned his forearms on the pleasantly warm metal rails and settled his chin on his hands, keeping his gaze trained on the black cow, who was not number 53, the cow that Allie had expected to birth next. Number 53 ambled past them to the water tank, still hugely pregnant.

“Here we go,” Zach said softly as the cow started straining.

Once it started, the birth progressed rapidly. In less than ten minutes, the new calf was on the ground and the mother was enthusiastically licking her new baby.

Jason shot Zach a sidelong look and caught the satisfied expression on the kid's face before it once again went stony. Then he turned to meet Jason's gaze.

“You really don't like this life?” Jason asked.

“It's not an easy life,” Zach said in a way that made Jason think that he was echoing words he'd heard.

“Where is it written that easy is good?”

Zach frowned at him, looking as if he wanted to argue, but couldn't come up with anything. “Easy is...easier.”

“Profound,” Jason said, pushing off from the fence and starting back toward the demolition. From behind him he heard a faint snort that sounded like the beginning of a laugh, but he didn't look back.

“You know, there's more to this life than calving.” Zach caught up with him as he spoke.

“Yeah? What?”

“Well, there's pasture management. Herd management. Maintenance. Mechanics. Vet emergencies. Weather problems. Snow. A lot of snow. Rain. Muck. Crap.”

“And you don't like that stuff.”

“All I'm saying is that ranching looks kinda, I don't know...different to people who aren't part of it. But when you're doing it every day, it can be hard.”

“The same can be said for football.”

“Except you won't get rich ranching.”

“Touché.” Jason started loading his tools in the truck. “But there's something about being outside, working with your hands... I like it.” It reminded him of being on the field in some ways. You practiced and played regardless of weather. You had a goal and you worked toward it. Shit happened and you dealt with it.

Zach cocked an eyebrow at him in a way that made him feel like a rookie who'd just demonstrated how much he didn't know. Well, in a way he was.

Jason had originally wanted to buy a ranch in order to isolate himself with land. That was before he'd gone to work on the Lightning Creek and discovered that there was a great deal of satisfaction to be found in working outdoors every day, demolishing a barn, overseeing the small cattle herd. Not to mention the satisfaction found in pulling weeds in an overgrown garden and kissing the boss.

He'd give Ray a call tonight, see if that parcel they'd looked at earlier was still on the market. He'd like to have cows, chickens. Pasture and hay fields. He'd also want a manager, of course—someone to run the place right, but that could wait until he nailed down his new profession. The ranch didn't need to be a working property right off the bat.

The important thing was to buy the right piece of land. Something he could use as both a retreat and an investment. A place close to his dad's, but not so close that they'd kill one another.

* * *

T
HE
B
ELLA
R
IDGE
R
ANCH
was a beautiful property, edged up against Forest Service ground, which allowed for a healthy measure of privacy. It was a smaller property than Jason wanted, but as Ray pointed out, large enough to graze cattle—as long as his herd was small—and the federal land would isolate him from close neighbors. The house was two-story log, with large windows and a deck overlooking the Eagle Valley, larger than one person needed, which suited him fine. Jason liked to spread out. The kitchen was modern, the rooms had been professionally decorated and all in all, it would make an excellent getaway.

“You can bring in a manufactured home if you decide to have a caretaker on site when you're not here,” Ray said. “If you set it up over there—” he pointed to an area opposite the barn “—you'd have all the privacy you need while in residence.”

“Let me talk to my finance guy and get back to you.”

Ray said, “You'd better hurry...” but the words trailed off as Jason met his eyes. They both knew he didn't need to hurry. It was probably the ridiculously high price tag, which Jason fully intended to negotiate, but the Bella Ridge was not a hot property.

“Give me a couple of days and I'll get back to you. In the meantime, if anything else suitable comes onto the market, let me know.”

“Sure thing.” Ray clapped Jason on the upper arm, as if he were an old buddy.

“Is it all right if I stay here for a bit and just get the feel of the place?”

Alone?

“Sure. Sure.” Ray smiled in an understanding way before heading to the shiny black Chevy truck with the Largent Realty sign on the side. Jason leaned back against the side of his truck, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied the property. Ray let his engine idle, and Jason ignored him, wishing the guy would drive away already. The house was empty. There was nothing on the property and the gate had no lock, so Jason saw no reason why he shouldn't be able to get the feel of the place without having a real estate agent breathing down his neck—or rather, wanting to breathe down his neck, but taking pains not to look pushy.

Ray wanted to make this sale badly and he finally came to the realization that Jason wanted to be alone. He put his truck in gear and backed into an arc, waving at Jason before driving by. Jason waved back and then let out a breath. Once the sound of the engine had died down, he took in a deep breath. Yeah. It was quiet here. Picturesque. Secluded. And there was a lot of pasture. He could have his own herd of cattle, his own new calves this time next year. He had friends who'd get a kick out of visiting a ranch and Kate would love this place.

But again, that ridiculous price tag. He was willing to pay a lot for a spectacular view—just not as much as the owner wanted.

One thing that struck him was that the Bella Ridge lacked the character of the Lightning Creek—the sense of having survived bad times and rejoiced in good times. This place was too new to have that kind of a feel, but he could live here. Jason took one last look around, and nodded to himself. Yes. He could make something of this place. He pushed off from the front of the truck just as his phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket.

Brandt.

He hadn't expected to hear back so soon, but he was glad he was alone when the call had come. He sucked in a breath and said hello. Surely a call meant that he was still in the running...

“Mr. Hudson, this is Amanda Morehouse from Brandt University. How are you today?”

“Doing okay.” He hoped.

“I'm sorry to say that I'm not calling with good news.”

Jason's stomach dropped. “I didn't make the cut?”

“Not at this time.” There was a note of apology in her voice.

“I see.” Which was a lie.

“The top three candidates progress to the next interview tier.”

“And I'm number...”

“Five.”

“Of how many?”

“Ten.”

Middling. When in his life had he ever been middling?

“While we applaud your accomplishments,” Amanda continued, “your lack of administrative and management experience deeply concern members of the committee. We've made exceptions before and it has never worked out.”

Well, great.

“I'm a quick study,” he said before he could stop himself. “Highly motivated. I have a deep understanding of athletics of all sorts. I'm more than willing to do whatever is necessary to bring myself up to speed. At this point in my life, my only commitment is to my career.”

“Good to know.” There was a brief pause, and then Amanda said, “If any of the candidates decline the interview, you will move up in the rankings.”

But he was still number five. Close didn't count. The final score counted.