Barefoot Blue Jean Night. Debbi Rawlins
turned from watching the Daniels woman park her car and stared at his sister. “You better be joking.”
“We were fourteen when I told her that. She should’ve gotten over it by then and married Paul Haas,” Rachel muttered, and walked toward the car.
Cole stayed where he was, able to get only a vague glimpse of the new guest through her car’s tinted-glass windows. The driver’s door opened, and she climbed out, the sun catching the gold in her tawny hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail.
The open door blocked a good part of his view as she shook hands with Rachel. She matched his sister’s height of about five-five, and he could see the woman had a pleasing profile and the good sense to wear jeans. Boots, too, worn ones—not the impractical high-heeled pointy kind so many of the guests had shown up wearing.
Rachel indicated the parking area on the east side of the barn, and the woman lifted her hand to shade her eyes. No flash of some god-awful color on her fingernails. Already she’d risen in his esteem, but that didn’t mean he’d offer more than this meet-and-greet. He’d made it clear from the get-go. The dude ranch was Rachel’s baby. He had better things to do.
Stepping away from the car, Rachel waved him over. His reluctance ebbed when she motioned to the trunk and he realized she wanted his help carrying in luggage. Adjusting his hat, he strolled over, wishing he’d changed his dusty blue work shirt. He almost stumbled at the errant thought. Hell, he’d insisted Rachel advertise the place as a working ranch and since he seemed to be the only person at the Sundance paying more attention to the cattle than the females, he wasn’t about to put on airs.
“Jamie, this is my brother, Cole. He’s the oldest, a bit ornery and stubborn, but a real nice guy when you get to know him.”
Cole tightened his jaw, did his fair best not to react. But he and sis needed to have another little talk. Though Rachel’s light laugh said she already knew she’d irritated him.
Their new guest laughed, too. “I don’t have any brothers but I’m guessing you just earned yourself an earful.” She offered him her hand just as she had done with Rachel. “I’m Jamie Daniels, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Cole McAllister.”
That wouldn’t happen. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat, then pressed his palm to hers, which was soft and small while his was rough and callused.
She held on a few seconds longer than he expected. “Did you know that in ancient times men shook hands to show they weren’t hiding a weapon?” Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. She let go, lifted her hands, palms out, and glanced down at herself. “Not carrying, promise, no need to call me ma’am.”
Cole blinked; that was the best he could do to keep from staring at the tempting swell of her breasts, the small waist, flat belly, the way her hips curved out enough to fill a man’s hands when he took her …
“Sure …” He silently cleared his dry throat, moved a cautious step away. “Jamie, uh, you wanna pop the trunk?”
“Everything I brought is right here.” She opened the back door, then leaned in to grab a duffel-style leather bag.
His gaze went straight to her shapely backside. It wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. The way she was bending over, her hind end angled up … and he was a man, after all. The sudden feeling that he was being watched made him glance over to see Rachel standing by the hood, regarding him with wide-eyed curiosity.
He sent her a warning look, then shifted his attention back to getting her guest inside so he could be on his way. “Let me get that,” he said, and received a shock all the way to his toes when unthinkingly he nearly grabbed Jamie by the hips to move her aside.
Christ almighty.
He jumped back, waited for her to get clear. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind moving the car while I take your bag inside,” he murmured, and out of the corner of his eye caught her smile.
“Will do. Thanks.”
“You know which room?” Rachel asked as he lifted the bag from the backseat.
He didn’t like the devilish tone of her voice. “No, you’d better come show me.”
“After I move the car,” Jamie said, “I’ll meet you inside, if that’s all right?”
“Perfect.” Rachel hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s cold lemonade and cookies on the porch. Help yourself, then come on in.”
Cole hefted the bag and closed the car door. Rachel trailed him inside, and when he headed for the kitchen stairs that their housekeeper, Hilda, and the guests used, Rachel stopped him.
“I gave Jamie the room next to yours,” she said, then breezily passed him as if the change of plans didn’t matter.
“You hold on there.” He stood stubbornly in the big foyer, and waited for her to face him.
She’d already made it partway up the main staircase but she turned, her expression all innocence.
“You’re already reneging on our deal?”
“What deal?”
“Dammit, Rachel.” He set down the bag, exhaled sharply. “We agreed no guests in the main part of the house.”
“Yes, we did. But number one, we’re full, and number two, this is Jamie Daniels we’re talking about.” Rachel’s gaze drifted to the window, and then, in a muted voice, she added, “We can’t talk about this now.”
“And you had the nerve to call me ornery? You sneaky little cuss. If you think you’re gonna bushwhack me like this—”
“What’s going on?” Hilda pushed through the swinging doors between the dining room and kitchen.
Barbara McAllister was right behind her. “You two hush up. We have guests.”
“A fact about which I’m painfully aware.” Cole dialed down his tone but continued to glare at Rachel. “This little pipsqueak has taken it in her mind to give up the family’s privacy.”
After a short silence, his mother sniffed and quietly said, “It is Jamie Daniels, after all.”
Hilda added her agreement.
Cole shifted his disbelieving gaze to the two older conspirators, who gave him small guilty smiles.
Rachel said, “You didn’t seem to mind her too much when she was bending across her backseat.”
He turned back to glare at his sister, but damned if he could think of anything to say. So he pulled his gloves out of his rear pocket and started pulling one on. “You can take this bag up yourself.”
“Wait,” Rachel called after him as he headed for the swinging doors. “Mom, tell him not to leave yet.”
He brushed past Hilda and his mother, ignoring their soft pleas, determined to escape through the kitchen door. “Women,” he muttered, and refused to look back.
JAMIE DIDN’T WASTE much time unpacking. With all the traveling she did, she was an expert at hauling only what she needed. Besides, she was pretty anxious to see that cowboy again.
Cole was even better-looking in person with those bedroom brown eyes and sexy mouth. His dark hair was a bit too long, but she suspected it was more due to indifference than anything else. She sure looked forward to seeing him without the hat, although when he’d casually touched the brim in greeting, her silly heart had done a little curtsy.
Her guess was he’d shaved early this morning, but already stubble had shadowed his strong jaw. At first she’d thought he had a cleft in his chin but then she’d realized it was a small scar—which totally worked for her. The man was the real thing, all right. The kind of cowboy who might star in a fantasy or two. She wondered if a roll in the hay was as uncomfortable as it sounded.
Rachel