Opposing the Cowboy Page 6

Jonah nodded. “I saw you over here when I pulled in, so I thought I’d come say hi.”

  Both women went completely still, like animals in the wild when something startled them.

  What did I say?

  Slowly, Kylie unclasped her hands and raised them to cover her mouth. Then she let out a string of curses that would have put his biggest, strongest, hardest-living, toughest-talking cowboy friends to shame.

  LeeAnn didn’t curse. In fact, she didn’t say anything—but her face went completely white.

  “Why don’t you two go ahead and tell me what’s going on,” he said. “Maybe I can help.”

  Silently, LeeAnn pulled her hand from behind her back and held it out toward him, a pair of plastic bull testicles hanging from the wires gripped in her closed fist.

  He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the beautiful yoga instructor in a pair of blue jeans and a tight T-shirt that outlined every curve, dangling toy balls at him.

  He couldn’t decide if it was hot, or terrifying.

  Anyway, why was she showing him giant plastic nuts?

  When she stepped away from the rear of the Ford—the green, fifties-era Ford—it all clicked.

  A slow grin spread across his face, then he erupted in a snort of laughter.

  “Shut up,” Kylie hissed, glancing around the parking lot. “You’re going to get us arrested.”

  LeeAnn’s face turned a bright shade of pink. “This isn’t your truck, is it?”

  “No,” Jonah managed to get out, in between guffaws. “It’s not.”

  She stared at the balls in her hand. “We’re going to have to figure out how to reattach these.”

  Kylie shook her head. “I think that truck castration might be permanent,” she said mournfully. Then a tiny snicker escaped her. LeeAnn glared at her friend for a moment—and suddenly the two women were leaning on one another, howling with laughter.

  “Oh, dear,” LeeAnn said, waving the balls back and forth. “I don’t know what to do about these.”

  “I think I can help you out,” Jonah said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jogging back to his truck, he opened the toolbox in the back and rummaged around, coming up with a length of baling wire and a pair of pliers.

  “Give them to me,” he said as he got back to the two women. LeeAnn handed over the testicles and crouched down next to him as he worked to reattach them to the trailer hitch. “Keep an eye out?” he said to Kylie, who nodded and stared around the parking lot, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “I can’t believe we’re putting these back on,” LeeAnn said.

  “I can’t believe you thought they were mine.” Suppressed laughter threaded through his voice. He pushed his Stetson back on his head to see better, then twisted the wire up through the hitch connection.

  “Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like there are that many trucks like yours around.” She jerked her chin up toward the truck above them. As she leaned back in to watch him, her shoulder brushed against his, sending a tiny electric shock through his entire body.

  Pay attention, Hamilton.

  Right. Pay attention. To the testicles in my hand.

  Great.

  “Are you kidding? This is nothing like my truck.” With a final twist, he cut the wire and pulled on the decoration to make sure it was securely attached. Standing, he tucked the pliers into a back pocket of his Levi’s. “This is a Ford. Probably a 1958 or so. Look at that clunky hood, the square grill. No. My truck is a 1956 Chevy—chrome bumpers, small-block V-8 engine. They’re nothing at all alike.”

  “They’re exactly alike,” LeeAnn protested, moving in one fluid motion to stand up. “Old green pickups.”

  Resettling his hat, Jonah shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. “I’m disappointed, Ms. Walker. I’d expect a Texas girl to know a little more about trucks.”

  But as soon as he said her name, LeeAnn’s own smile faded. Reaching out to grab Kylie’s arm, she tugged her friend back toward the gift store. “Thank you,” she said to Jonah, her tone suddenly formal. “I appreciate your help.”

  Kylie glanced back and forth between the two. “Yes,” she said. “Thanks. We really do appreciate it.” With a little wave, she turned to catch up with LeeAnn, who had spun around and started marching toward Cowbelles.

  Jonah watched LeeAnn walk away, her back stiff and straight.

  What just happened?

  “That was sort of rude,” Kylie said, after catching up with LeeAnn. “He did help us out—even knowing that you meant to castrate his truck. That was really nice of him.”

  “I know,” LeeAnn replied. How could she explain to Kylie that the sound of his voice as he called her “Ms. Walker” had suddenly reminded her of all the times he had called her on the phone, attempting to get her to discuss allowing his company to drill on her ranch?

  She could barely explain her reaction to herself.

  She felt like she was on a seesaw, riding back and forth between thinking of Jonah Hamilton as the smooth-talking businessman out to screw her out of her mineral rights…and as the cowboy who pulled her out of the way of oncoming trucks and fixed her screwed-up attempt at some semi-political statement about Truck Nutz.

  And who kisses like he means it…even when he doesn’t.

  The two women walked in silence for a moment until, with a grin, Kylie leaned over to bump against her friend with her shoulder. “Definitely Henry Cavill hot.”

  LeeAnn laughed. “Okay, okay. I have to work with him tomorrow,” she said. “I can be polite then.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, LeeAnn woke early and took her yoga mat outside to the top of the hill behind her house. Out in the farthest field, bluebonnets were beginning to bloom, creating a gorgeous sea of blue and green. Closer in, the grass of an enclosure had been grazed down by her horse, Blackie, and she reminded herself that she needed to make sure none of the flowers were blooming in any of the pastures where he might eat—bluebonnets could be deadly to horses. She still had the battered copy of Guide to Texas Plants Poisonous to Animals the county agent had given her grandmother years ago, and over the years she had grown to enjoy weeding the pastures, especially in spring. It made her feel like she was doing something important.

  She spread her mat out on the dew-damp grass and breathed in deeply. In the distance, she heard a few birds chirp, then the harsher caw of the grackles that nested in the big live oak tree that shaded the western side of the house. Sami always said she hated the quiet out here, but it wasn’t ever really quiet. Not with the sounds of the animals and insects, the wind through the tree leaves. The sky directly overhead was a bright blue, but she could see clouds gathering in the distance. Spring was by far her favorite season, in part because of the frequent thunderstorms that crashed through North Central Texas. She loved curling up in her living room with a cup of tea, watching the lightning flash.

  Not that she would be able to enjoy the storm through a window today. Instead, she would be digging through the piles of stuff in one of the barns, if Jonah Hamilton had his way.

  Don’t overreact. Calm.

  Breathe.

  Stretching her arms above her, she began moving through the sun salutation asanas—the postures and stretches with which she began every day. As ever, her mind wandered, though she tried to focus on her breathing.

  Jonah has no idea what he is getting himself into.

  Was it wrong for her to feel a little gleeful at the thought of his reaction when he saw the outbuildings? Where should they start? Some of the buildings had been locked up for as long as LeeAnn could remember, the items stashed away well before she was born. Maybe the old stables? It was the last building Gran had closed off. She could remember a time when the ranch still had more than one horse, when all the stables were in use on a regular basis. If Gran had done anything with the mineral rights in the years before she died, the paperwork would probably be in there. It certainly hadn’t been in the box she’d pulled down from
the attic. That had been schoolwork from LeeAnn’s childhood—stuff she hadn’t even known Gran had saved.

  Then again, Jonah had said that the mineral rights could have been split off from the main title years ago. If that was the case, the paperwork might very well be in one of the other buildings.

  She hadn’t ever done more than take a peek in a couple of them since she had inherited the ranch, preferring instead to start clearing out the rambling farmhouse—Gran’s hoarding habits hadn’t been limited to the outbuildings, so it had taken quite a while to comb through what had been locked away in closets and extra bedrooms.

  The activity had helped her move through her grief after Gran’s death.

  Most of it had been junk, but there had been some lovely furniture that only needed refinishing to make it useful again, and she had run across a few pieces of beautiful costume jewelry. She had refinished the furniture herself and used it to redecorate the farmhouse. The jewelry she had given to Sami, who had the most amazing ability to wear vintage clothing and make it look chic—on LeeAnn, it looked old. She’d passed Gran’s wedding china to Sami’s sister, Beverly, who was most likely to use it.

  But there hadn’t been any legal paperwork in the main part of the house.

  And other than that single box, she hadn’t even gotten to the attic yet.

  Oh, yeah. Jonah is going to be utterly horrified.

  Maybe he’ll even forget about the Truck Nutz incident.

  Ignoring the blush that the memory brought to her face, she finished her sun salutation and went inside to brew a cup of tea.

  This could turn out to be fun.

  At least, that’s what she would tell herself.

  Om…

  …

  When Jonah pulled his truck into the caliche-paved driveway that led up to the old farmhouse, LeeAnn stood up from where she had been seated in one of two white wicker rocking chairs on the broad front porch.

  Placing a teacup on the side table, she moved down to the bottom of the steps to greet him.

  “Hi,” he said, tilting his head toward her. “You ready for this?”

  The glare of the rising sun behind her hid her face in shadows, so he couldn’t see her exact expression. Nonetheless, he focused on the shadows of her face rather than the outline of her body, trim and muscled in yoga pants and a matching tight shirt.

  “I guess,” she said, her tone dubious. “I’ll go change and meet you back out here.”

  A half step to the left brought her face into the light as she began to move back to the house. She paused, staring at him thoughtfully for a moment, then jerked her chin toward the closest outbuilding. “Feel free to start looking around.” Without waiting for a reply, she headed into the house.

  With a shrug, Jonah followed her direction toward a medium-sized barn. The door swung open when he pushed it. The space was much cleaner than LeeAnn had given him to expect.

  Maybe this search won’t take long, after all.

  Then he would move on to senior landman. More responsibility, more pay, more security.

  He wouldn’t have to spend very much time trying to work with LeeAnn Walker.

  Why did that thought make him uncomfortable? Pushing it aside, he prowled through the quiet room.

  A covered saddle hung on a stand outside one of the stalls. Lifting the treated canvas, Jonah ran his hand across the well-worn leather. It was also well cared for—the saddle oil scented the entire barn, underlying the persistent smell of hay and horse. Next to the stand stood a closed box made of heavy-duty plastic, and at the back of the room was a freestanding metal storage unit. Tack closets like that weren’t exactly cheap, Jonah knew.

  Pulling the door open to let in more light, he checked out the rest of the stable. Only one stall seemed to be in use, though no horse currently occupied it. He unlatched the half door and swung it open, curiosity overcoming the knowledge that he certainly wasn’t going to find any legal papers in the otherwise empty stall.

  Once inside, he kicked aside clean hay. The wooden floor of the stall was covered with a rubberized mat—fairly new, by the look of it—and the hay had been recently placed, given the lack of any mold or mildew.

  So there was—or recently had been—a horse, and like the saddle and tack, it was well taken care of.

  He was beginning to see where the money went. Not toward making sure the outer perimeter fence was up or the various storage buildings were repaired, but maybe toward taking care of the things that mattered most to LeeAnn—her horse, her riding gear, and her barn, for example?

  Kicking the hay back into place over the mat, Jonah stepped out of the stall and relatched the door.

  He glanced around again. Unless LeeAnn’s grandmother had used the hayloft as a storage space, they weren’t likely to find any paperwork anywhere in here. There was an old tractor off to one side, parts scattered on the floor around it, but he didn’t see how that could help him.

  Still, he was drawn to it.

  “I haven’t been able to get it running since Gran died,” LeeAnn said from behind him. “Haven’t been able to sell it, either. I might not even be able to give it away, for that matter, but I haven’t actually tried that yet.”

  Jonah didn’t turn around. “My grandfather had a tractor like this one—an old-model John Deere from the fifties. The damn thing broke down all the time.” He laughed softly. “I spent a lot of my childhood working on getting it running again. We worked on all types of engines together.” Gently setting down the carburetor he had picked up, he faced LeeAnn and gestured out the barn door toward his Chevy. “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be able to keep Betty running.”

  “You named your truck Betty?” LeeAnn shook her head, but she was smiling.

  “I heard it on some television show once.” He shrugged. “I liked it.”

  “You seen Blackie yet?” she asked.

  “That the horse?” He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Come on, then. I need to say hello before we get started. It’s something of a ritual for us.” She led him out of the barn, carefully latching the door behind them. “It’s a bit of a hike,” she warned. “I was only able to keep two pastures for him, so I chose the two best. But they aren’t the two closest to the house.”

  More evidence that she cares more for the animal than herself?

  This didn’t exactly fit into his image of her as part of the hippie crowd.

  “I’m up for a walk,” he said, following her as she made her way down a dirt path worn into the scrubby Texas flora.

  Out in the full sunlight, the sight of LeeAnn walking in front of him almost stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t like she hadn’t worn formfitting clothes around him before. Her yoga gear left little about her long, lean body to the imagination. But something about the sight of her in faded denim jeans and an old gray T-shirt with “Fort Worth Stockyards” emblazoned across the back hit him right in the chest, taking his breath away. Strands of her blond hair escaped her ponytail and fluttered around her face under a straw cowboy hat with a pink bandanna replacing the hatband. And her boots were scuffed and worn—not the stylish, rhinestone-studded pink footwear he’d seen her wear when working at Cowbelles, but real work boots in plain brown leather.

  The boots matched the gear in the barn. Used, but cared for.

  As he looked around, he realized that the land fit that pattern, too. This was no longer a working ranch, and the lack of money was evident—hell, it was all he’d seen the first time he’d surveyed the place.

  On closer inspection, though, he could see the care put into what maintenance had been done.

  Not much money, but what there was had been spent well. The fence next to the horse barn showed evidence of recent patching, the newer wood showing up as a lighter color. The house hadn’t been painted recently enough for his taste—it was beginning to peel—but the rain gutters were clear of debris, and the porch had been recently swept.

  She hadn’t exaggerated about the dis
tance from the house—by the time they reached the small corral right outside two large fenced pastures, he couldn’t see the road any longer. The ranch stood right at the edge of the Texas Hill Country, so there was just enough roll to the land to obscure any straight line of sight.

  The fencing around the corral was wooden and carefully tended—no peeling paint here. The larger pastures were surrounded with wire fencing interspersed with tall wooden fence posts, and these fences were also in much better shape than the barbed-wire ones that edged that outer perimeter of the ranch.

  LeeAnn skirted the smaller enclosure, coming up to lean on the nearest post by one of the pastures. Putting her fingers to her lips, she let out a piercing whistle. A rustling erupted in a small copse of trees against the eastern fence about a third of the way down pasture, and a large black gelding emerged from the spring foliage, nickering as he cantered toward them. When he reached the fence, he stopped, shook out his mane, and stretched his head out over the fence beside LeeAnn with a decided nod.

  “Show-off,” she murmured. Wrapping her arms around the graceful arch of his neck, LeeAnn greeted the horse. “Hey, baby,” she said, grinning. “You have a good morning? Yeah? Me, too.” She murmured a few other inanities, then stroked his ears as he snuffled around her hands. Laughing, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few sugar cubes. “Looking for these?” The horse’s lips flared as he delicately picked them off her outstretched palm.

  Watching her interact with the animal, Jonah couldn’t help but smile.

  This is definitely where all her care goes.

  “Want to meet him?” she finally asked, turning to Jonah.

  “Sure,” Jonah said.

  LeeAnn’s mouth quirked up in an impish grin. “I was asking the horse.”

  A bark of laughter escaped Jonah, and he replied, “Well, then, let me know what he says.”

  She bent her head back to the gelding, her blond ponytail swinging around and shining bright against the black of the horse’s mane. “Yeah, he’s okay with it,” she finally said, her gray eyes sparkling. “Jonah, meet Blackie.”