Riding Home

“I do, but I’m sure more appropriate clothes will help me with that. That’s so obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it, although I wouldn’t know where to go. The party’s being held outside, so jeans would be good.”

“And boots.” Zach glanced down at her yellow shoes.

“Guess so. These aren’t going to work for a barbeque.” She lifted one foot to peer at the sole. There wasn’t much surface area to the bottom of her stiletto, but the little that existed was dotted with smashed chocolate chips, dirt and bits of straw. “Good Lord.” She groaned. “I probably tracked chocolate chips all over Sarah’s hardwood floor on my way out.”

“Probably.”

“Worse yet, the housekeeper is one of Regan’s sisters. Cassidy idolizes that brother of hers. She’s already wantin’ to snatch me bald-headed, and now she’ll have to clean up my trail of chocolate. I’ll have to go back inside and apologize to her. To all of them.” She glanced up at Zach. “You must think I’m a total screwup, but I swear I’m not. At least not normally.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?” She met his gaze. “I don’t know why. I’m the woman who cheated on my fiancé with his best friend. Then I showed up here in designer clothes more suitable to a country club than a ranch, and obviously I made a mess of things in the kitchen.” Her voice caught. “If that’s not a description of a screwup, I don’t know what is.”

She seemed to be on the verge of tears and he considered pulling her into his arms and letting her have a good cry on his shoulder. She probably needed to release some of that tension that had her wound way too tight. But they’d just met, and he also sensed a Southern reserve in her. If he coaxed her into crying it out, she might be horribly embarrassed afterward.

Besides, if she were going back inside to apologize for the chocolate on the floor, she wouldn’t want to have red, puffy eyes. He’d only known her a short time, but he could already tell she wouldn’t want her vulnerability made public. Unfortunately, her natural reserve might be working against her, too.

So he settled on words of encouragement to shore her up instead of physical contact that would make her lose her cool. “You can’t be a total screwup. You flew out here and made peace with your ex. That took diplomacy and guts. Even though you know nothing about cooking, you volunteered to help prepare the food for tomorrow’s party while working with women who aren’t all in your corner. That takes nerves of steel. I’m just a bystander to this drama, but from my perspective, you’re pretty damned incredible.”

She stared at him for a long time, her eyes growing suspiciously bright. Then she sniffed and used her thumbs to flick away the moisture gathering on her lower lashes. “Thank you. You can’t know how much that means to me.”

“Oh, I have some idea. I’m a recovering perfectionist.”

Her smile trembled. “I’m just a plain old perfectionist. Maybe on the drive to Jackson you can tell me how to get rid of that tendency because it’s a royal pain in the ass.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you never get rid of it.”

“That is bad news.”

“But you might be able to cut it down to size.”

“Then I want to know how to do that.” She held out her hand. “Until tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” He clasped her hand and his adrenaline spiked. Her grip was firm but her skin was petal-soft. He forced himself to let go when all he wanted to do was draw her closer...and closer yet.

Awareness flashed in her green eyes. “See you later, Zach Powell.” Turning abruptly, she walked out of the barn without looking back.

He was grateful for that, because he couldn’t seem to move. He stood there like a fool and watched until she was out of sight. His visceral reaction to her had him by the throat, or more accurately, by the gonads.

But she didn’t need a lover right now. She needed a friend. Even if she had been in the market for a lover, she worked in the profession he’d vowed to avoid. So he’d help her shop, share a nice dinner and that would be that.

2 (#ulink_ae21289a-dba1-5b31-8648-dfe7e1bf7338)

ALTHOUGH IT WASN’T quite five-thirty, Jeannette came downstairs to wait for Zach in the Bunk and Grub’s parlor. Usually someone was in there reading or knitting or texting, but the room was empty. Then she remembered that the other guests were probably gathering on the back porch for the B and B’s scheduled happy hour.

She’d attended that event the previous night and had enjoyed herself until she’d received a text from work. Then she’d gone back to her room so she could straighten out an issue at the office, and by the time she’d finished, happy hour had ended. The porch had been deserted.

For a little while, though, she’d been a welcome part of a social occasion. The guests were all from someplace else so no one knew that she was persona non grata in Shoshone. She could go back there now, reconnect with those nice people and have some wine while she waited for Zach. The young woman at the reception desk near the front door could come and get her when he arrived.

But even though that was a pleasant idea, she’d rather stay here and watch for him. She didn’t care if she looked eager for the trip to Jackson and the chance to be with him again. She was eager. He was her new friend.

In addition to that, he was a beautiful man. At first glance she’d noticed his broad shoulders and lean hips. She’d registered his confident stance. But when he’d moved closer she’d been captivated by the expression in his cloud-gray eyes. His Stetson had shaded his face slightly, but shade couldn’t mute the intelligence and compassion in those eyes.

Sure, male appreciation had flickered in his gaze. That was fine. She wouldn’t complain about getting that look, which hadn’t been sleazy in the least. But it was his sincere compliment that had blown her away. His empathy for her situation was greater than she’d felt from anyone since she’d arrived. Much as she understood everyone’s reaction to her, she’d desperately needed someone like Zach to show up.

Bolstered by his understanding and his praise of her courage, she’d managed to walk back into the ranch house with her head high. She’d apologized for her clumsiness and inexperience in the kitchen. She’d apologized specifically to Cassidy for the chocolate smeared on the hardwood floors in both the hall and the living room.

Had it still been there, she would have gotten down on her hands and knees and cleaned it up herself. But the chocolate had been gone—no doubt someone had seen the chaos she’d left in her wake and reported it to Cassidy.

Jeannette didn’t want to think about the comments that must have flown around as the floor was cleaned. Yet when she’d come back into the kitchen, everyone had been perfectly nice to her, including Cassidy. She gave them all credit for that.

But there hadn’t been a lot of warmth coming her way, and she’d caught a few exchanged glances that had made her stomach twist. Maybe if she’d gotten to know them prior to the Christmas Eve drama, this situation wouldn’t be so awkward. But during her engagement to Regan, she’d only met his parents. There hadn’t been time to fly out to Jackson Hole to see his sisters.

Now they were obviously only being nice for Regan’s sake, which was admirable. But if they could somehow manage to see past her awful mistake and get to know and like her as a person... No, that was probably asking way too much under the circumstances. She couldn’t help longing for it, though.

Before she’d left the kitchen, she’d mentioned the clothes issue and had acknowledged that hers weren’t suited to the weekend’s activities. She’d told them about the planned shopping trip with Zach, which had caused a few more exchanged glances.

She hoped that eighteen-year-old Cassidy didn’t have a crush on Zach. Jeannette didn’t want her to be jealous on top of everything else. Cassidy was the only single woman on the ranch, but Zach was too old for her. Jeannette wasn’t good with ages, but the crinkles at the corners of his amazing eyes put him at somewhere past thirty.

And that made him the perfect age for her, since she’d just hit the big three-oh this year. Not that she had any business comparing ages as if they had a future together. He seemed very happy to be a ranch hand in Wyoming living in his Airstream. She was very happy as an attorney in Virginia.

But that hadn’t kept her from fantasizing about him taking his solar shower in front of God and everybody. Or replaying his kind words to her right before she’d left the barn. In her fantasy they ended the moment with a kiss instead of a civilized handshake.

She was intensely grateful for his encouragement and help, and their relationship would probably only be a platonic one, but he was very handsome. She’d been doing penance for her sins ever since she and Drake had admitted they weren’t right for each other. She hadn’t gone on a date since, which had been almost eight months.

Maybe she could be forgiven for having inappropriate thoughts about Zach. She wondered if his sensitive behavior had nudged her libido because it telegraphed his potential as a wonderful lover. It was a logical conclusion.

Any man who’d take the time to listen to a woman’s troubles and offer to help her solve them would likely also be committed to giving his sexual partner pleasure. He would employ all the skills he possessed in that endeavor. He wouldn’t rest until she was utterly and completely satisfied.

Oh, Lord. That concept made her hot. She got up from the sofa and began to pace the small parlor. She’d better rein in her fantasies before he arrived because a man like him would sense her reaction. That would be plain embarrassing.

The receptionist, a slim brunette, left her desk and walked into the parlor. “Happy hour is about to start,” she said. “Would you like a glass of wine while you wait? I can bring it to you.”

“No, thanks. But that’s very sweet.” Jeannette estimated the girl was about Cassidy’s age and conscientious about her job.

“I like your outfit.”

“Thank you.” Jeannette had chosen the least dressy combination she’d brought, but even so the ankle pants were beige linen and the black blouse was silk. At least she’d tied the shirttails at the waist in a faux casual way. Her black Ferragamo mules added a good three inches to her height. She’d left off the bangle bracelets and wore the smallest gold hoops she owned. “I’m afraid my clothes don’t fit in very well, though.”

“They would if you were staying in Jackson. It’s more cosmopolitan there. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some wine? When Pam’s not here, it’s my job to make sure the guests are happy.”

“She’s not?” Jeannette had thought the B and B owner would be on the back porch serving drinks as she had the night before.

“She’s spending the night with her husband. Good thing I’m over twenty-one so I can serve liquor.” The girl smiled.

“Where’s her husband?” Vaguely Jeannette remembered a ring on Pam Mulholland’s left hand, but she hadn’t seen a husband around.

“Over at the Last Chance. He’s the foreman there. Emmett Sterling.”