Betting on Texas. Amanda Renee
She had grown accustomed to her new truck over the past few days. Anything beat the broken-down cracker box she’d driven for the past six years.
After she passed three unmarked turnoffs, she decided to try her luck on the next one. It was next to impossible to tell which led to ranches and which ones were legitimate roads. Acres upon acres of pastures and crops lined the narrow lane, but there was no sign of a town.
A few attempts down others brought her to an intersection identical to the one she’d passed a few miles before. Now she was lost.
An hour later, she found herself in front of Double Trouble—no closer to town than she was before she left.
“Shoot!”
Miranda drove down the ranch drive, watching for signs of Jesse. The noise her tires made on top of the cattle guards made an unnoticed entrance highly unlikely. There was no way she was about to admit she’d never made it to town. He would enjoy it a little too much. She parked the truck and ran up the stairs. Mable would give her directions and she would try again tomorrow.
Miranda threw open the screen door and smacked face-first into Jesse’s chest.
“How was town, sugar?” He raised a brow as if to challenge her.
“I...uh.” Miranda tried to sidestep the cowboy, but he braced his arms on either side of the doorjamb.
“What was it you were saying?”
Jesse’s wicked grin said it all. He knew.
“So what?” Miranda pushed him aside and stormed into the kitchen. “So, I never made it into town.”
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said I never made it to town!” Miranda shouted. “Are you deaf or just stupid?”
Miranda swore she felt steam rise from her skin. In a matter of hours, Jesse learned the right buttons to push. In one day, he managed to infuriate her more than most men did in a lifetime.
“My hearing’s fine, but you appear to be the stupid one,” he said as he strolled out the door. “Couldn’t even get your sorry self to town. Guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight after all.”
The screen door slammed in his wake.
“Oh!” Miranda stomped her feet.
“We’ll have none of that, dear.” Mable joined Miranda as they watched Jesse’s retreat to the foreman’s house. “Pay no mind to him. His feathers are still ruffled over this place.”
“None of which was my fault,” Miranda added. “What’s his problem, anyway? He’s so angry and bitter.”
“Pride. Pure pride.” Grabbing a bottle of pink lemonade out of Miranda’s cooler, Mable opened it and took a sip. “Eww. I need to teach you how to make this stuff from scratch. It sure would taste better.”
Miranda felt her anger leaving her as she stared at the old kitchen floor. A layer of wax left a thick residue on the stained linoleum. She eyed a box of steel wool Mable had brought and got up to fill a bucket of water. On her hands and knees, Miranda began to scrub. Mable followed suit, and the two of them slowly began stripping the floor. It was cathartic in its own way.
“He’s a tough one to figure out,” Mable said.
Miranda only nodded in agreement.
“Jesse’s father never forgave him when he opted out of the family business.” Mable continued to scour as she spoke. “It’s not so much he didn’t want to be a part of the family ranch. He wanted to build one of his own.”
“And that didn’t go over well with Jesse’s dad?”
“Langtry men are all stubborn. The whole lot of them. Jesse despises having anything handed to him.” She plunged the steel wool into the water. “If he had joined his brothers and taken over Bridle Dance, he wouldn’t think that was much of an accomplishment.”
“But it’s different. It’s an inheritance.”
Miranda would have given her eyeteeth to have a family. Let alone one who wanted her to join the family business.
“I know it. But Jesse never saw things that way. And his father never saw it Jesse’s way. Don’t get me wrong. Jesse respects his brothers for their decisions, but it wasn’t what he wanted out of life.”
“Sounds like he has something to prove.”
Miranda understood how he felt in that regard. A year of should haves and what ifs had passed since her mother’s death, combined with a broken engagement, and she still felt that way.
“He does. To himself. Jesse wasn’t in the rodeo spotlight like his three brothers always were. He’s an honest man. Just wants to make a life for himself. One he can be proud of.”
“I guess it’s noble when you think about it.”
While it wasn’t a choice Miranda would have made, she understood his reasons, to a certain degree. She always dreamed of what life would be like if she had been part of a large family instead of the disaster she came from. Jesse, on the other hand, felt the need to break free from his.
The grass is always greener.
“Jesse demands things his way. His way was buying this ranch. Years ago, the Carters promised to sell it to him when they retired. He saved every penny he ever made to buy this place. He was downright devastated when he lost it.”
“I’m sorry, Mable, but I refuse to feel bad about buying this place.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Mable stood and rubbed the small of her back. “I’m just making you aware of why he’s acting the way he is. In the end, he only wants a family of his own.”
So the cowboy was human.
“Why doesn’t he go back to Bridle Dance now?” Miranda wondered aloud. “At least for a little while, to regroup. Instead of this new job in Abilene.”
“Heaven knows his father tried to talk him into it. Jesse even considered it, for a spell. But like I said, he’s a stubborn one. I’m surprised he’s agreed to stay on and help you out.”
“He’s staying on for the sake of the animals,” Miranda said. “Not me.”
“Maybe so. But he’s still here.”
“For the time being.” A deep voice echoed throughout the kitchen.
Startled, Miranda knocked the bucket of water, sloshing half of it onto the floor. She scrambled for a roll of paper towels while avoiding any eye contact with him. She now had more of an appreciation for the man who stood before her. However, she wasn’t about to let her guard down around him just yet.
“Instead of eavesdropping,” Mable chided, “go see if you can find a mop.”
Without a word, Jesse left the kitchen.
Annoyed at the ease with which Jesse unsettled her, Miranda attempted to soak up the black water. This was crazy. Why does this man have such a hold over me? Whenever he was around, she was as nervous as a schoolgirl.
“Well, no sense crying over spilt milk,” Mable said, getting to her feet. “We best head into town and pick up some food.” Mable wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’m famished.”
“Don’t let her drive,” Jesse interjected. He was standing there holding a rope mop like a knight ready to joust. “She’ll take you round in a circle and back again. You’ll end up starving to death.”
“We’ll have none of that,” Mable chastised him, pushing Miranda out the door. “Make yourself useful, Jesse. Mop up the floor.”
The woman ignored Jesse’s grumblings while Miranda found it impossible not to smile. Mable sure could put Jesse in his place at the drop of a dime.
“I’ll