“Come on. We’ll go to my place and I can taste this pie.,” When she glanced toward the main house as if deciding whether or not she should go and get Mac right away, he added, “Mac’s playing with Brody. You can take a few minutes. See if I like this pie. I happen to be a pie-eating expert. I can tell you if it’s any good or not.”
“I’m not worried,” she said proudly, lifting her chin slightly. “That’s the best pie you’ve ever eaten.”
He tipped the brim of his hat back. “That’s a big statement since my mother makes the best apple pie on the planet.”
“I really like Cora Lee,” she said, “but I’ll put my pies up against hers anytime.”
“Well,” Jesse said nodding, “now there’s no choice. You have to come over so we can settle this.”
She chewed at her bottom lip for a second before saying, “Okay. For a few minutes. Then I’ve got to get Mac and head home. I’m later than I thought I’d be, but I wanted to finish the pie so I could bring it to you.”
The first raindrops plopped into the dirt as they climbed the steps to the stone porch. Jesse opened the heavily carved front door and stood back to allow Jillian to enter first.
He watched her as she looked around and Jesse saw his place through her eyes. Wide plank, golden oak floors, Native American paintings and family photos on the walls and Navajo rugs scattered across the floors. She wandered through the entryway, peeked into the main room, and he knew she saw a completely masculine space. Well, hell, he lived here alone, so why would there be feminine touches? The only women who ever came into his house were his mother and sister and the housekeeper, once a week. When Jesse wanted a woman he went to her place.
He never brought them to the ranch. To this house. He didn’t want some woman to start feeling cozy in his place. Start leaving bits of clothing or makeup or whatever, trying to stake a claim both on him and his world.
This was different, though, he assured himself. Jillian wouldn’t be here long. As much as he’d like to, he wouldn’t be steering her down the hall to his room and laying her out across his bed. Gritting his teeth, he pushed that thought away and watched her. She looked around the main room and he saw it fresh, through her.
Burgundy-colored leather chairs and couches were grouped in front of a stone fireplace that was perfect when it was cold enough for a fire. Thank God he had a housekeeper, so the place wasn’t covered in an inch of dust, but there were books stacked on tables, an abandoned coffee cup and invoices, records and bills scattered on the floor around the chair he usually sat in.
“It’s a great place,” she said, taking in the wide windows that overlooked the corral and the ranch yard. Then her gaze landed on the paperwork. “Interesting filing system.”
“Yeah.” He pulled his hat off and set it, crown down, on the closest table. “I was working when Carlos came to get me to ride out to the pasture and check on a few of the herd. We’ve got some pregnant cows out there and wanted to make sure they had enough water.”
“I thought you had ponds and lakes.”
“We do,” he said, “but sometimes, the stock ponds get gummed up or start going dry.”
“How do you keep track of so many animals?”
He shrugged. “The cowboys ride the land most days, we keep a running head count of the cattle so if any wander off, we can go find ’em.”
“So you’re riding across the ranch every day?”
“I wish,” he muttered, then glanced at the paperwork. “If I had my way, yeah. But there’s a lot of that to be done, too. Plus there’s more than the animals to care for. There are stock ponds to keep clean and clear, feed fields to manage and the pastures themselves.”
She shook her head. “It sounds intimidating.”
“Can be,” he agreed, and realized this was the first time a woman had actually asked him about his work. And she looked as though she really was interested. “If you don’t learn from the best. I did. My dad knew everything there was to know about ranching and he taught me.”
“From everything Lucy and Cora Lee have told me about him, he sounds like a very special man.”
“He was. In every way.” Jesse stared out the front window at the ranch he’d loved from the first moment he’d set foot on the place. “He loved Lucy and me and raised us as if we were his own.”
Nodding, she turned, too, to look out the window at the darkness creeping in as twilight ended. “That is special. Not everyone can accept a child other than their own.”