The Rancher's Request. Stella Bagwell
She looked ghostly pale, except for her lips—and they were almost cherry-red from the hard kiss Matt Sanchez had planted on them. Much of her naturally curly hair had come loose from its pins and several locks were now swinging in front of her eyes.
She’d left her tiny handbag back in the kitchen under the table where she’d been sitting with the old cook, so she was without a compact, lipstick or comb. Her hands shook as she tried her best to finger comb her tumbled hair back into place and she scolded herself for having such a violent response to the man. It shouldn’t matter that he’d taken her unaware with that kiss. She’d been kissed before, she told herself.
But not like that. For a few seconds you were swooning, dreaming of more.
Disgusted with herself, she straightened the straps on her dress, then bravely stepped out of the room and back into the party.
In the great room she was quickly swept onto the dance floor by one man and then another. The music was lively and normally Juliet loved to dance, but as each partner struck up a conversation, she found herself looking around the room, searching for him.
Eventually, Juliet decided she’d lost the partying mood and decided to retrieve her purse from the kitchen and head home. She’d already gotten what she’d come for anyway. And more, she thought dismally.
When Juliet entered the kitchen, she found Cook stirring up another bowl of punch. She told the older woman goodbye, then collected her wrap and left the house through the nearest exit. As for thanking Geraldine Saddler for the wedding invitation, she’d do that later through a card in the mail.
Outside the massive, hacienda-style house, the clouds had grown even heavier than when she and Matt were on the patio. The wind was chillier and she gathered the velvet stole higher on her arms as she hurried to her parked car.
Juliet was so intent on getting away from the ranch she almost missed the young girl sitting on one of the half-buried railroad ties that lined the edge of the driveway. She was wearing a long, pale pink dress and her light brown hair flowed in waves down her back. If it weren’t for the lost expression on her face, she would have looked totally adorable.
Curious as to why the girl was out here alone, Juliet walked over to her.
“Hello,” she said warmly.
The girl, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen, glumly glanced up at her.
“Hi,” she mumbled.
“Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”
Bending her head, the girl plucked absently at her skirt. “Why aren’t you?”
Carefully, Juliet sat down next to the girl, while telling herself it didn’t matter if creosote stained the seat of her dress. The child emanated sadness, an emotion that Juliet was well acquainted with, and she couldn’t leave until she’d found out what was upsetting her.
“Well, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m not all that good at talking to strangers.” Or kissing them, either, Juliet thought wryly. “So I decided to head home.”
Big brown eyes looked curiously up at Juliet. “I know everyone here today. Except for you. Are you a relative?”
Juliet shook her head. “No. My name is Juliet Madsen and I write stories for the newspaper. I’m going to do one about the wedding.”
“Oh.” The flicker of curiosity fell from her face and the corners of her lips turned downward. “Then I guess you know my daddy was a groomsman. You probably have all their names down and all that kind of stuff.”
“That’s right. What’s your father’s name?”
“Matt Sanchez. I’m Gracia Sanchez and my daddy’s the general manager of the Sandbur. Did you know that?”
Juliet didn’t know why she was so stunned to discover that Matt Sanchez had a daughter. The man was probably closer to forty than he was thirty. He’d had plenty of time to acquire a family. But when he’d kissed her—well, she’d never imagined that he had a wife somewhere in the wedding crowd. Dear God, what if the woman had walked in on them? The idea burned Juliet with anger and embarrassment.
“Uh—no. I didn’t know that. You must be very proud of him.”
The girl shrugged. “I guess so. He’s always busy.”
The simple statement said volumes and Juliet suddenly remembered her own childhood and a father who’d never been around. No matter if she’d needed him or not. Hugh Madsen’s indifference to his daughter’s life had left a deep wound inside Juliet, one that had never healed.
Juliet nodded with understanding. “Most men usually are,” she said more wistfully than she’d intended, then looked pointedly at Gracia’s pink satin dress. “Your dress is beautiful. Did your mother let you pick it out yourself?”
The girl’s eyes shadowed over and then she quickly glanced away from Juliet. “I picked it out myself. But I don’t have a mother. She died when I was six.”
Juliet was suddenly struck with empathy for the girl. Looking at Gracia was like seeing herself twelve years ago.
Gently, she reached over and stroked a strand of gold-brown hair lying on Gracia’s shoulder.
“My mother died when I was eight,” Juliet told her. “So you don’t have to tell me how awful it is. I understand.”
Gracia’s head twisted back around and she looked at Juliet with surprise. “Your mother died, too? Really? How come?”
Juliet’s heart squeezed as faded memories of her ailing mother drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Eva Madsen had been a softspoken, gentle woman who’d made Juliet’s world a magical place with smiles and laughter and a loving hand. When she’d passed away from cancer, Juliet’s life had never been the same.
“She was sick for a long time and could never get well.”
“Oh. My mother got hurt on a horse and died all of a sudden.”
Juliet was suddenly thinking about Matt and how the tragedy must have affected him. He seemed such a stern, unyielding man it was hard to imagine him grieving. But people dealt with personal loss in different ways. For all she knew, the ranch manager might still be mourning his wife’s death.
“I’m sorry, Gracia. But sometimes bad things happen to nice people.”
She gave Juliet a solemn nod as though she’d already accepted such a fact. “Do you have a stepmom?”
Juliet shook her head. “I only have a father and no brothers or sisters.”
A petulant look suddenly stole over the young girl’s sweet face. “Me, too. And that’s why I don’t like being inside today—with the wedding going on. My daddy won’t—”
“Gracia! Finally, I’ve found you!”
Matt’s voice interrupted his daughter’s words and both girl and woman looked over their shoulders to see him rapidly descending upon them. The cowman’s strides were long and purposeful, his expression dour. Juliet felt herself bracing for his presence and when his eyes zeroed in on her face, she unconsciously rose to her feet.
“You! What are you doing out here with my daughter?” he asked sharply.
How could she have had one sympathetic thought for this man, Juliet wondered. Too bad she hadn’t managed to get that slap off. Whacking his jaw would have given her supreme pleasure.
“I’m trying to get to my car and go home.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”
“You don’t know what anything looks like,” Juliet shot back.
His gaze settled on her lips and Juliet felt her cheeks fill with unaccustomed heat. Had she actually kissed this man? It seemed impossible and