Jeannie Watt – To Court A Cowgirl (страница 2)

That was what this ranch, this house, represented to her. Deep and painful loss.

Allie put her hands to her temples. She was strong. She could do this. Take back this house. As she saw it, she had two choices—move into the Staley house and visit the ranch twice a day to feed and care for livestock, or man up, pour herself a shot of whiskey, toast the past and head into the future here. In this house. Her unwanted birthright. Her sisters had made peace with the ranch. In fact, they’d all thrived there. In the place where she’d lost her husband, they’d all three found theirs.

Allie walked into the kitchen, opened the cupboard next to the refrigerator and, sure enough, there was a bottle of Jameson right where she had left it during her brief Christmas visit. Her sisters were beer and wine women, but on the occasions she imbibed, she was whiskey all the way, and right now only one small thing stood between herself and toasting the past. A shot glass.

After a few minutes of futile searching, Allie reached for a water tumbler. A glass was a glass and all that really mattered was the amount of alcohol poured in. Granted, a toast to the future in a water glass lacked the panache of tossing back a shot, but one had to work with what was at hand.

She carried the bottle and glass into the living room and set them on the sideboard beneath one of her more colorful oil paintings—a painting that had been stored in the attic with several others until Jolie moved home. Truth be told, Allie wasn’t wild about having her artwork back on the walls, but kept her mouth shut because she didn’t live at the ranch permanently and her sisters viewed her artwork differently than she did. Maybe it was good to have it up—another way to face the past, acknowledge and move on.

She opened the bottle and had just started to pour when the sound of footsteps on the front porch startled her, causing her to slosh a healthy amount of liquid both into the glass and onto the table.

What the hell? Or rather who the hell?

The Lightning Creek was not on the road to anywhere, except for the vacant Staley house, so anyone who was at the ranch had come for a specific purpose. She only hoped it was a friendly one.

Allie set down the bottle and crossed the living room, tamping down stirrings of apprehension. She paused at the window to peer out through the crack between the curtains, then took a quick step back. The guy on her porch was, in a word, big. He also seemed oddly familiar, even though Allie was fairly certain she didn’t know anyone that tall. Then it struck her.

Jason Hudson?

No. Way.

But when she peeked through the curtains again, it was indeed the hometown hero on the other side of her door. She’d just seen him on TV a few days ago in a campy commercial, doing the wide-receiver thing, catching pizzas thrown by his quarterback. So what was he doing on her porch?

It had to be a lost dog or something.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, tilting her head back to meet Jason’s gaze. He smiled at her. “Hi, Allie. Jason Hudson. I assume you remember me?”

She did. She remembered him using that crooked smile and charming expression to get pretty much anything he wanted after he and his wealthy California family had arrived in the Eagle Valley at the beginning of her junior year—including the valedictorian scholarship that should have been hers. She no longer held a grudge, but at the time she’d been outraged that when their GPAs had tied, he’d been given the top spot and she’d received salutatorian. She’d done a lot more extra curriculars...but he’d helped them win the state football championship. Sports topped good work.

“I do,” she said. Who in this town didn’t? Their big claim to fame—a professional football player. She took hold of the edge of the door as she gave him a once-over. He was taller than she remembered and solidly built, which was to be expected given his profession. He was also better looking than he’d been back in the day. His face had developed some fascinating planes and angles and his once blond hair had gone dark, which only seemed to make his eyes seem bluer. A charmer and a looker. Allie was no longer impressed by either description, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t affected by the guy’s sheer masculinity. It was all she could do to keep from swallowing dryly.

“What can I do for you?”

He cocked his head. “Any chance I could talk to you for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” She stepped back and let him come into the living room, figuring it was unlikely that a recently retired football player was there to do her bodily harm. Besides, they had once been in chess club together—not that he’d ever deigned to speak to her. They had traveled in different social spheres, with the exception of chess club.

“Nice place,” he said, looking around.

She shrugged and said thank you, even if it was all her sisters’ doing. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Your ranch, actually.”

The first red flag popped up. “What about it?”

“I, uh...” He frowned a little as one corner of his mouth quirked. Allie followed his gaze straight to the glass with the splash of amber liquid in the bottom sitting in a puddle of whiskey next to the bottle itself. She looked back at him, raising an eyebrow, daring him to say something. Anything. Like “wow, that’s a giant whiskey glass.”

He did not. Not on the subject of the whiskey anyway. “I heard that you’ve recently considered selling the ranch.”

Allie’s chin slowly rose as her eyes narrowed. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Ray Largent.”

Her insides went cold at the mention of her ex-father-in-law. “The ranch isn’t for sale,” she said abruptly. How many ways could her ex-in-laws come up with to try and get this place away from her? And how was Kyle going to cash in on this?

“I understand that.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, no longer caring about politeness or the fact that he was even hotter than he’d been back in the day.

“To let you know if you decided to sell, I’d be interested.”

“All right,” she said in a clipped voice. “If we decide to sell, I’ll let you know.”

“I appreciate that.” He shifted his weight. The silence stretched, then he said, “I’m moving back to the Eagle Valley to be closer to the family. My dad had a pretty serious heart attack.”

Was he making small talk or playing the sympathy card? Either way she wasn’t biting.

“I’m certain you can find a suitable acreage to buy.”

“No doubt. This ranch is close to Dad’s place, but not too close, if you know what I mean.”

Dad’s place. One of those monstrosities overlooking the lake at the center of the valley. Allie lifted a shoulder. “Sorry. And not to be rude, but I was in the middle of something.”

His eyes strayed to the bottle and Allie felt her color rise, even though she told herself she owed him no explanation. “Then I won’t take up any more of your time.”

She saw him to the door, closed it behind him, waited until she heard his car engine start before she headed back to her whiskey. After putting the stopper in the top, she took the bottle to the kitchen and resolutely stowed it away on the shelf. Then she returned to the living room, lifted the glass from the puddle and sipped the small amount of liquid in the glass—not as a toast to the past, but to still her nerves.

She didn’t know what was going on here. How the Largents and the Hudsons were involved, but once again the Largents were after her ranch and she wasn’t going to put up with it. And to send the golden boy...

She tossed back the rest of the whiskey.

* * *

“THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HOME.” His sister, Kate, spoke in a low voice as Jason came in the back door. “I need someone to distract Dad.”

Jason smiled even though he didn’t feel much like smiling. There was something about his conversation with Allie Brody that stayed with him—something beyond being told no, the ranch wasn’t for sale. “That’s what you’re here for.”

Kate blew out a breath. “My life has just been thoroughly evaluated—for the third or fourth time this month. Your turn now.”

“I already had my turn today.”

“That you, JD?” his father called.

Kate gave him a push toward the living room. “Go and get counseled.”

Jason went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. Paternal counseling, especially for the second time in one day, went down easier with alcohol. He popped the top, tilted the can at his sister with a wry smile and then headed to the living room. Behind him he heard the fridge door open again and another top popping.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You were gone awhile. Any luck with Ray?”

Jason shook his head and sat on the leather sofa across from his dad’s recliner. “He’ll keep looking, though.”

“What about the house around the corner that overlooks the lake?”

“I want something with more privacy.”

Max frowned deeply as he sat in his recliner. “Maybe right now, but as time goes on, people are going to get used to having you around. They won’t be gawking.”

“I know,” he said patiently. Once upon a time he and his dad triggered each other by merely walking into the room, but dealing with more than one megalomaniac coach had taught him a thing or two about thinking before reacting. “This is more about me wanting a place where I can have privacy because I like privacy.”